Harris walked back into the room a minute later.

“We’re in,” he said.

“The director approved the operation.”

“We’ll have agents inside the clinic dressed as staff.”

“And two unmarked vehicles in the underground garage.”

I nodded, my chest tightening.

“What about the codes?” I asked.

“We’ll give you a dummy flash drive,” Harris said.

“It will look like a secure federal transfer key.”

“Once he takes it, we move in.”

“He has to bring the ledger,” I said.

“He will,” Harris said. “He has nothing else to buy his way out.”

We spent the next three hours mapping the clinic layout.

The Westwood clinic was on the fourth floor of a medical high-rise.

It had two entrances: the main lobby elevators and a rear service exit.

Harris pointed to a blueprint on the table.

“We’ll place Agent Miller in the reception area,” he said.

“She’ll be dressed in medical scrubs.”

“You will be in Exam Room Three.”

“We’ll let Julian get to the room.”

“Once he shows you the ledger, you give the signal.”

“What signal?” I asked.

“You’ll wear a small transmitter under your collar,” Harris said.