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filled two cups from the urn, then paid for them and went over to the condiments counter to get Nord’s cream and sugar. While he was pouring a shot of cream into one of the cups he felt a presence next to him at the counter. He made room at the station but no one reached for any condiments. He turned toward the presence and found himself looking at the smiling face of Deputy Chief Irvin S. Irving.
    There had never been any love lost between Bosch and Deputy Chief Irving. The chief had at various times been his adversary and unwitting savior in the department. But Bosch had heard from Rider that Irving was on the outs now. He had been unceremoniously pushed out of power by the new chief and given a virtually meaningless posting and assignment outside of Parker Center.
    “I thought that was you, Detective Bosch. I’d buy you a cup of coffee but I see you already have more than enough. Would you like to sit down for a minute anyway?”
    Bosch held up both cups of coffee.
    “I’m kind of in the middle of something, Chief. And somebody’s waiting for one of these.”
    “One minute, Detective,” Irving said, a stern tone entering his voice. “The coffee will still be hot when you get to where you have to go. I promise.”
    Without waiting for an answer he turned and walked to a nearby table. Bosch followed. Irving still had a shaved and gleaming skull. His muscular jaw was his most prominent feature. He took a seat and held his posture ramrod straight. He didn’t look comfortable. He didn’t speak until Bosch sat down. The pleasant tone was back in his voice.
    “All I wanted to do was welcome you back to the department,” he said.
    He smiled like a shark. Bosch hesitated like a man stepping across a trapdoor before answering.
    “It’s good to be back, Chief.”
    “The Open-Unsolved Unit. I think that is the appropriate place for someone of your skills.”
    Bosch took a sip from his scalding cup of coffee. He didn’t know if Irving had just complimented or insulted him. He wanted to leave.
    “Well, we’ll see,” he said. “I hope so. I think I better -”
    Irving held his hands out wide, as if to show he wasn’t hiding anything.
    “That’s it,” he said. “You can go. I just wanted to say welcome back. And to thank you.”
    Bosch hesitated, but then bit.
    “Thank me for what, Chief?”
    “For resurrecting me in this department.”
    Bosch shook his head and smiled as if he didn’t understand.
    “I don’t get it, Chief,” he said. “How am I supposed to do that? I mean, you’re across the street in the City Hall Annex now, right? What is it, the Office of Strategic Planning or something? From what I hear, you get to leave your gun at home.”
    Irving folded his arms on the table and leaned in close to Bosch. All pretense of humor, false or otherwise, evaporated. He spoke strongly but quietly.
    “Yes, that is where I am. But I guarantee you that it will not be for long. Not with the likes of you being welcomed back into the department.”
    He then leaned back and just as quickly adopted a casual manner for what he delivered as casual conversation.
    “You know what you are, Bosch? You are a retread. This new chief likes putting retreads on the car. But you know what happens with a retread? It comes apart at the seams. The friction and the heat-they’re too much for it. It comes apart and what happens? A blowout. And then the car goes off the road.”
    He nodded silently as he let Bosch think about that.
    “You see, Bosch, you are my ticket. You will fuck up-if you will excuse my language. It is in your history. It is in your nature. It is guaranteed. And when you fuck up, our illustrious new chief fucks up for being the one who put a cheap retread on our car.”
    He smiled. Bosch thought that all he needed was a gold earring to complete the picture. Mr. Clean all the way.
    “And when he goes down my stock goes right back up. I’m a patient man. I’ve waited for over forty years in this