It was a perfect, blue-skied morning in Washington - well, almost perfect. The Mastermind was on my cell phone. ‘Hello, Alex. Did you miss me? I missed you, partner.’
The bastard had been making obscene, threatening phone calls to me every morning for over a week. Sometimes he just cursed at me for several minutes; this morning, he sounded positively civil.  ‘What’s your day look like? Any big plans?’ he asked.
Actually, yes. I was planning to catch him. I was inside an FBI van
that was already on the move. We were tracing his call and would
have the exact location very soon. A court order had been put
through the FBI and the phone company was involved in ‘trapping’
the call. I was in the rear of the speeding van with three Bureau
agents and my partner, John Sampson. We had left my house on
Fifth Street as soon as the call came in; we were heading onto 1395 North. My job was to keep him on the line until the trace was
completed.
‘Tell me about Betsey Cavalierre. Why did you pick her instead of me?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, she’s much, much prettier,’ the Mastermind said. ‘More fuckable.’
One of the techie agents was talking in the background. I tried to listen to both conversations. The agent said, ‘He’s living up to his name. We’ve got a wire tap and should be able to trace the call immediately. It isn’t happening for some reason.’ ‘Why the hell not?’Sampson asked and moved closer to the agents.
‘Don’t know exactly. We’re picking up different locations, but they keep changing. Maybe he’s on a cell phone in a car. Cell phones are harder to trace.’
I could see that we were getting off the D Street Exit. Then we headed into the Third Street tunnel. Where was he?  ‘Everything all right, Alex?You seem a little distracted,’the Mastermind said.
‘No, I’m right here with you. Partner. Enjoying our little breakfast club.’
‘I don’t know why this is so goddamn hard,’ the FBI techie complained.
Because he’s the Mastermind, I wanted to yell at him.  I saw the Washington Convention Center on the right. The van was really clipping along, doing sixty or seventy on the city streets.  We passed the Renaissance Hotel. Where the hell was the Mastermind calling from?
‘I think we have a fix on him. We’re real close,’ one of the young agents said in an excited voice.
Suddenly the FBI van stopped; it was chaos inside. Sampson and I pulled out our guns. We had him. I couldn’t believe we had him.  Then everyone inside the van groaned and cursed. I looked outside and saw why. I shook my head in disgust.  ‘Jesus Christ, do you believe this shit!’ Sampson yelled and pounded the wall of the van. We were at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, the J. Edgar Hoover Building. FBI headquarters.  ‘What’s happening now?’ I asked the agent in charge. ‘Where the hell is he?’
‘Shit, the signal is roaming again. It’s moving outside Washington.  Okay, now it’s back in the city. Christ, it just skipped out of the country.’
‘Goodbye, Alex. For now anyway. As I told you before, you’re next,’ the Mastermind said. Then he hung up on me.