Free Levon's Night by Chuck Dixon

need more.”
    “This is becoming an expensive enterprise.”
    “Risk and reward. You are a businessman after all. You understood the odds. You know the prize is worth the investment,” Koning said.
    “Investment. How proper. I understand the concept of venture capital. I only remind you that I expect results,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.
    “This next target seems most likely. It was the most carefully hidden. That tells us something.”
    “Your people are with you? They are ready?”
    “They are near the target.” Koning’s crew had arrived on the continent the day before. They were divided between Montreal and Toronto. The only exception was his advance element sent well ahead to gather the intelligence needed.
    “And you need funds.”
    “There is special equipment we require.”
    “You cannot steal it?”
    “Risk arrest for petty theft in pursuit of Aladdin’s cave?”
    “How much?” There was a chuckle in the voice.
    “A million. Dollars. Part of that covers our exit.”
    “The getaway,” the voice said in English, amused.
    Koning said nothing.
    When can I expect good news?” the voice said with growing impatience on the edges.
    “Watch CNN. They will tell you when it is over.”
    “Good hunting, Koning.”
    The line went dead.
    He opened the phone to remove the battery and SIM card. These he disposed of in two different dumpsters on his way back to the hotel. The body of the phone went down between steel grates in the sidewalk.
    Koning shrugged off his raincoat and draped it over the back of his chair at the hotel bar. He gestured to the bartender for another gimlet of Stoli. The woman played the opening of “Easy To Love” in an easy tempo that came off the keys like treacle.

 
     
    Fifteenth entry
1/16
----
    Finished the electrics for the kitchen. Plumbing is next.
    M spending more time with C and G.
    She’s begging for a sleepover. Maybe that’s a good thing.
    Time away from her gloomy old man.
    Snow started after lunch. Wet snow.

 
    18
----
    The night of the sleepover, Danielle Fenton cooked enough spaghetti for an army. She insisted that Levon stay and eat with them.
    “Where’s Nate?” he asked, pulling up a seat at the table where the kids were already digging into a steaming basket of rolls.
    “The artist couple called. Something about their hot water heater,” Danielle said and lowered a huge ceramic bowl of pasta onto the table.
    “Artists? What kind of artists?” Merry asked.
    “I’m not sure. Painters I think. Your father met them when they were moving in,” Danni said around the oven mitt between her teeth.
    “What did dad say they were like?” Giselle asked as she toured around the table grinding fresh parmesan on everyone’s pile of pasta.
    “He said they were hippies,” Danni said, taking a seat opposite Levon.
    “Hippies!” Giselle declared with a guffaw.
    “Well, to your father anyone who doesn’t earn a paycheck is a hippie.” Danni shrugged.
    They passed around a milk pitcher that was doing duty tonight as a sauce tureen. This was followed by a platter of Danni’s famous venison meatballs.
    “The secret is I grind the meat with just a little pork,” she said as she encouraged Levon to spear a third meatball the size of a baseball.
    “Then it’s not really a secret,” Levon said without a trace of a smile.
    “I guess it’s not. Now that I told you I guess I’ll have to kill you, Mitch,” she said with an open smile.
    Everyone laughed at that but Levon. He made the best smile he could and bent to his plate.
    “Daddy calls them ‘deer balls’,” Carl shared with a broad grin.
    “Carl!” Danni cried.
    The kids surrendered to a snuffling of barely suppressed giggles. Danni turned red and covered her mouth with a napkin to hide her smile.
    After dinner Levon made for a quiet departure. “Let you kids have fun,” he said as he pulled on his coat at the door.
    Merry burst across the room, leaping the board game they had