“Let’s begin at the start,” Wingo said. “The ten serial numbers you gave me belong to a lot manufactured in Italy in nineteen eighty-eight. Those ten weapons were among three thousand weapons manufactured and sold to the Government of Iraq’s Ministry of Defense. Delivery of the weapons cache was on February first, nineteen eighty-nine.”

“Don’t tell me, the trail disappears after that?”

“No, actually not quite yet. The Iraqi Army kept some limited records that we have gotten access to since the second Persian Gulf War. A little benefit that came from the distribution of records confiscated from Saddam Hussein’s palaces and military bases. Remember the search for weapons of mass destruction? Well, they might not have found any WMDs but they found a shit pile of records involving lesser weapons. We eventually got access to it.”

“Good for you. What did they tell you about my gun?”

“The entire shipment of guns from Italy was distributed to the Republican Guard. The RG were the elite soldiers. Do you know the history of what happened back then?”

Bosch nodded.

“I know the basics. Saddam invaded Kuwait, and after the atrocities started, the Allied forces said, enough.”

“Right, Saddam invaded in nineteen ninety, right after receiving these weapons. So I think the obvious conclusion is that he was outfitting for the invasion.”

“So the gun went to Kuwait.”

Wingo nodded.

“Most likely, but we can’t be sure. That’s where the records stop.”

Bosch leaned back and looked up at the sky. He suddenly remembered he’d asked Rick Jackson to watch over him. He didn’t think it was necessary anymore and his eyes searched the glass surface of the PAB. The reflection of the sun on the glass coupled with Bosch’s tight angle prevented him from seeing anything. He held his hand up and made the okay sign. He hoped Jackson would get the message and stop wasting his time.

“What’s that?” Wingo asked. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I had some guy checking on me because you were so spooky about me coming alone and everything. I just told him it was okay.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Bosch smiled at her sarcasm. She handed him the file. Her report was complete.

“Look, I’m a paranoid guy, and you hit the right buttons,” Bosch said.

“Sometimes paranoia is a good thing,” Wingo replied.

“Sometimes. So what do you think happened to the gun? How did it get over here?”

Bosch was working on his own answers to those questions but wanted to hear Wingo’s take before she left. After all, she worked for the federal agency charged with monitoring firearms.

“Well, we know what happened in Kuwait during Desert Storm.”

“Yeah, we went over there and kicked the shit out of Saddam’s soldiers.”