MARX COMMANDEERED a conference room, then called out an elite SWAT tactical team with supervisors and plus-one team leaders to plan the mission. They let me participate because my role was key—the task was not simply to capture Alan Levy, but to elicit a confession. They broke down a plan, selected a location, and deployed surveillance and tactical teams even before I made the call. We didn’t know if Levy would agree to meet, but the SWAT boys wanted everyone in place asap. If the plan changed, they would roll with it. They were the best in the business.
A surveillance technician named Frank Kilane stuck his head into the room and gave us the thumbs-up. Marx patted me on the back.
“Ready to make the call?”
I grinned, but my grin was too large and strained.
“I live for making calls like this.”
“Want some more of that coffee?”
“You trying to kill me?”
Marx grinned back with the same fractured leer.
“Not until after we get this bastard.”
Nervous humor.
Pike and Munson were waiting in the interview room, but Bastilla had moved Jonna so they could continue the interview. Frank Kilane had wired my personal cell phone into a recording monitor through a hands-free jack. We were using my phone so Levy would recognize my incoming number.
Kilane gave me the phone.
“All you have to do is use the hands-free like you normally would. Don’t worry about losing the signal. We have a pretty good signal here anyway, but I hooked you in with a booster.”
Marx waved toward the two-way glass.
“Okay, then. Everybody out. Let’s clear the room.”
They left me alone to minimize background noise.
I took Jonna’s seat. A yellow legal pad with Levy’s number and the address of the location was on the table. I was glad they thought of it.
Marx’s voice came over a hidden loudspeaker.
“Go when you’re ready.”
I dialed, and listened to the soft burring ring tone. The silence between each ring felt longer than usual, but Levy answered on the seventh ring. He sounded normal in every way.
“Hey, Alan, you still want to talk to Ivy Casik?”
“Fantastic. You found her?”
“Am I not the World’s Greatest Detective?”
Mr. Just-Kidding-Around-Because-Nothing-Is-Out-of-the-Ordinary. Levy chuckled, showing me nothing was out of the ordinary with him, either.
“Ah, well, did you speak with her?”
“Uh-uh. I figured I would wait for you. I didn’t want to spook her.”
I gave him the address without waiting to be asked. It was an abandoned meth lab in a residential area. The SWAT guys selected it because the location offered cover for the surveillance teams and other advantages. The light traffic would make Levy easy to identify as he approached the location, and if he lost his resolve and departed without stopping, he would be easy to follow. If he left, we would let him. We didn’t want him to know we were on to him until he had incriminated himself. I finished setting the stage.
“It’s a little house at the bottom of Runyon Canyon. A dump, man. She appears to be alone.”
He sounded hesitant for the first time.
“Okay, well, this is great work, Elvis, like always. You don’t have to wait. I can’t get over there until later.”
I did my best to sound disappointed.
“Alan, your call, but I really busted my ass to find her. She didn’t unpack her car. I don’t know how long she will be here.”
“Uh-huh, well, I have an appointment with some people at Leverage. They probably have more to offer about what Marx is up to than this girl.”
“I can’t watch her all day, Alan. I have things to do.”
“It’s all right, Elvis. Really. I have the address, but I have to see these people at Leverage first. Don’t stay. If I get by to see her, I’ll call you about it later.”
“Whatever you want.”
As soon as I turned off the phone, Marx pushed open the door.
“That bastard’s going straight for the girl. Let’s roll.”