“Put your hands on your head and walk backward toward the sound of my voice. Now.”

The distant, bovine moan of a truck horn.

Milo repeated the order louder.

Nothing.

“Suit yourself, friend. One way or the other you’re coming out.”

Silence.

“You like fire hoses?”

Zoom zoom zoom from miles away.

He called for three Hollywood patrol cars and a locksmith. Five officers arrived under the tutelage of a sergeant who scoped out the situation and said, “Don’t see what we can do.”

The locksmith showed up ten minutes later, squinted at the gate from ten yards away. “He armed?”

“Don’t know.”

“What do you expect me to do? That’s electric, anyway, I can’t do anything with it.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Use a tactical nuclear weapon.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome. Can I go now?”

Five more minutes of nothing before Milo called out, “You up for a climb, buddy?”

No answer.

“Pal, one way or the other, you’re busted.”

The sergeant said, “Maybe he’s deaf. Central had a deaf guy last year, got shot, big trouble.”

Milo continued his monologue. Alternating cajoling with threats.

When he said, “Okay, do the tear gas,” a voice from behind the gate said, “I’ll come out.”

A figure stepped out to the center of the enclosure. The moon lit up half his face.

Thin, gaunt black man. Ragged hair, scruffy beard, sagging clothes.

“Hands on your head.”

Scrawny arms shot up fast.

“Turn around and walk toward me. Back up so you’re touching the gate.”

The man said, “I know the drill.”

Milo cuffed both his hands to the mesh gate.

“Thought you wanted me out of here, Officer. I climbed in, could climb out.”

Milo turned to the sergeant. “There should be some kind of manual control over there, near the motor. Anyone in good shape?”

The sergeant said, “Someone feeling like Tarzan?”

A short, stocky female officer said, “I used to do gymnastics.”

“Go for it, Officer Kylie.”

After a couple of false starts, Kylie got a foothold on the mesh. Moments later, she’d scrambled up and over. “Here it is, right on the box.”

Milo told the cuffed man: “Listen carefully: Gate’s gonna swing open, just move with it, don’t panic.”

“I never panic,” said the man.

“Unflappable.”

“That, too.”

Freed from the gate and recuffed, the man stared off into space.

Milo let the uniforms go, sat him on the curb.

“I finally get to meet you, Bradley.”

Bradley Maisonette hung his head.

“Here to see your old pal, Will? Interesting way to visit.”

“You know me?” said Maisonette. “’Cause I don’t know you.”

“Been looking for you, sir.”

The honorific gave Maisonette a start. He smiled. “You didn’t find me for a while.”

“Congratulations. Let’s talk.”

“How’d you do it?” said Maisonette. “Look for me, I mean. Like what’s your technique? I was in plain sight, living the good life on Fourth Street.”