Decker called Rina, telling her it looked like a long night. After he had hung up, his eyes focused on five men in dark suits stepping out of a black town car. “Special Ops…or maybe feds.”

Oliver said, “It’s not a federal case.”

“Maybe SMPD requested the help,” Decker said. “Maybe FBI has a field office close to here. Or maybe the hostage negotiator lives nearby.”

“Too many people around,” Oliver said. “We should go home. We’re not doing anything here, and by morning it’ll probably be resolved.”

“You can go,” Decker said. “I’m sticking around.”

Marge managed to find her way back with Liam O’Dell in tow. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans with slippers on his feet. “Any sign of Mudd?”

“I don’t know a thing, O’Dell,” Decker shrugged. “We’re just watching, same as you.”

“Who are all those guys?”

“FBI or Special Ops,” Decker said. “Can’t tell without a scorecard.”

O’Dell pursed his lips. “Shouldn’t we go over there or something?”

“No, O’Dell, we should stay right here,” Decker said. “If the men in black want to talk to us, they’ll come get us.”

“What’re they doing?”

“If I had to guess, they’re probably figuring out how to establish phone contact with Rudy.”

“How long is that going to take?”

Decker slapped an arm around O’Dell. “Liam, my friend, the wheels of justice grind very slowly.”

Cindy showed up a half hour later with a laptop, a large keg of coffee, and a pile of paper hot cups. She poured some java for all to share, and then she logged on to one of the local networks.

The group sat around watching themselves sit around.

It was after midnight, and the crowd hadn’t thinned a whole lot. Since L.A. usually shut down by eleven, Decker figured he had provided the city with its late-night entertainment.

A half hour passed, and the suits deigned to come their way. The agent who spoke looked to be around forty. He was well dressed with a chiseled chin and an angry expression. He was chomping gum. “Who’s Decker?”

“It’s Lieutenant Decker and that would be me. Who’re you?”

“Special Agent Jim Cressly of the FBI. What do you know about this?” Decker told him everything he knew. “So you have a prior relationship with Rudolph Banks?”

“I told you I spoke to him once over the phone. What’s going on?”

Cressly said, “He wants to talk to you.”

“Who does? Rudy?”

“Yeah, Rudy. This way.” When the group of detectives started to surge forward, Cressly held up his hand. “Uh-uh. Only Decker.”