Bosch paused there as he tried to consider what he still needed to ask. Sometimes when a witness opened up, there were so many aspects of a case or a crime to cover that it was hard to keep track. He remembered that what had brought him to this moment with Banks was the gun. Follow the gun, he reminded himself.

“Whose gun was used to kill her?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Not mine. Mine’s at home in a safe.”

“You all had Berettas from Iraq?”

Banks nodded and told a story about their unit driving truckloads of seized Iraqi weapons out to a hole dug in the ground in the Saudi desert so that they could be blown apart and buried. Almost all of the members of the unit working the operation cadged handguns from the trucks, including the five men who would later be on the Saudi Princess at the same time as Anneke Jespersen.

The weapons were then shipped home, hidden by Banks—the company’s inventory officer—in the bottom of the company’s equipment cartons.

“It was like the fox guarding the henhouse,” Banks said. “We were a transportation company and I was one of the guys in charge of breaking everything down and putting it in cartons. Gettin’ those guns home was easy.”

“And then you distributed them when you got back here.”

“That’s right. And all I know is that I still got mine at home in the safe, so that proves I wasn’t the one who killed her.”

“Were you all carrying them in L.A.?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t. You’d have to hide the thing the whole time.”

“But you were going to a city that you saw on TV was totally out of control. You didn’t want to bring something extra just in case?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know, man. We weren’t that tight anymore, you know? After Desert Storm we came back and we all did our own thing. And then when we got called back up for L.A., we were back together. But nobody asked nobody who was bringing their extra gun with them.”

“All right. But one more thing about those guns. Who removed the serial numbers from them?”

Banks looked confused.

“What do you mean? Nobody, as far as I know.”

“You sure about that? The gun that killed that woman in that alley had the serial number removed. None of you guys did that? You never filed down the numbers?”

“No, why would we? I mean, I didn’t. The guns were sort of like souvenirs from being over there. Like a keepsake.”