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“I don’t need you to confess, Novak. I just need you to remember.”

“I remember, I remember. Now take me to jail.”

“I told you, that’s not happening.”

“Then, what do you want?”

“Let’s start with who you were talking to this morning on the sat phone.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t talk to anybody.”

“I was in the house, Novak. I heard you. Who was it?”

“A guy I know. A guy in Ukraine.”

“Same buyer as before? You making a deal with him in case Cutler doesn’t come through? He gets you out of the country, you deliver the weapons?”

“You think you know everything, don’t you, Bosch? There’s no buyer. The weapons were never for sale. They were gifts for Putin, and you don’t know shit.”

“I know this. You told Cutler you have access to the remaining missiles. And you told your Ukraine guy on the phone this morning that you wouldn’t deliver until he delivered. That tells me the missiles aren’t in transit yet. And that tells me that if you end up dead, they don’t go anywhere, which means they’re somewhere close, and we’ll keep looking till we find them.”

He waited for a comeback but Novak said nothing. Bosch knew that his play in the next few moments hinged on Novak believing that his life was truly in danger.

“So, here’s the deal,” Bosch said. “Either I leave you here dead or I leave you here alive and go wherever you have the missiles stashed.”

Novak scoffed.

“What are you gonna do, shoot me?” he said. “You think that’s going to work?”

Bosch put the Taser down on the floor and pulled the duffel bag over close to him. He opened it and took out a bundle of black plastic zip ties held together by a rubber band. He pulled out two and started linking them.

“I worked a suicide once,” Bosch said, “back when I had a badge. The guy put two zip ties together into a loop like this. You know, so it would fit over his head. Then he pulled it tight. The thing is, it looked like he changed his mind at the end. He broke his fingernails trying to get it loose. Down to the bloody nubs.”

Bosch held up the plastic loop he had just made.

“You killed my friend, Stokely,” he said. “Right here in this place. The hollow. I’m going to put this around your neck, pull it tight, and watch your face turn purple and your eyes bug out. I’m going to watch you take your last breath. Maybe they’ll find you in here in about two weeks, when they make the last checks before tearing it down. Maybe they won’t. Either way, you’ll be nothing but bones after the rats get to you. The cops will figure you had nowhere to run and ended it right here.”

Novak just stared at him and Bosch thought he could see a flash of fear in his eyes.

Bosch slid toward him on his knees with the loop in his hand. Novak tried to avoid it by turning his head and leaning away, but there was little he could do in the cramped space with his hands bound behind his back. Bosch looped the plastic noose over his head and pulled the tab slightly to tighten it around his neck.

“What’s it going to be, Stokely?” he said.

“Okay, okay,” Novak said.

Bosch waited, his hand tightly gripping the tab.

“I’ll take you to the missiles,” Novak said.

Bosch shook his head.

“No, that’s not how it’s going to work,” he said. “You get one chance here. You tell me where they are. I leave you here and go check. If you’re telling the truth, I send the FBI back. If you’re lying, I come back. And you don’t want that.”

Bosch tugged the tab again to drive home the point, and a few more teeth ticked through the head of the tie.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Novak said. “Just stop pulling that thing.”

“Where are they?” Bosch pressed.