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The whooshing sound he had been listening to as he moved through the grove was coming from the wind turbine. Cosgrove so believed in the power of the wind that he had built one of his iron giants in his own backyard. Bosch guessed that the lights that bathed the exterior of the château were powered by the winds that tirelessly moved across the Valley. Bosch refocused his attention on the lighted mansion, and almost immediately he was struck with a feeling of hesitation, a second-guessing of his actions. The man who lived inside the walls in front of him was smart enough and powerful enough to
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As he waited for Henrik to come back, Bosch raised his eyes over the edge of the cubicle wall like a soldier peeking out of a foxhole. O’Toole happened to be standing in the doorway of his office, surveying the squad room like a land baron watching over his fiefdom. He thought it was about numbers and statistics. He had no clue as to what they were really doing here. He had no idea about the mission. O’Toole’s eyes eventually came to Bosch’s and they held each other’s stare for a moment. But then the weaker man looked away.
