Detective Frank Behr finds himself neck deep in white collar crime and facing off with cold-blooded killers more terrifying than anything he's faced before.   Bernard "Bernie Cool" Kolodnik is a hard-driving business mogul in the process of making a move into big-time Indiana politics, and it's Frank Behr's job to protect him. When a gunman takes a shot at Kolodnik, Frank does what he does best: saves Kolodnik's life. So why then was he taken off the detail? And why are the usually adept Indianapolis cops making no headway? To discover the truth, Behr navigates a labyrinthine landscape of hardened former Feds, crooked real estate developers, casino magnates, and power seekers feeding on the edge of a dangerous and deadly political scheme.    Praise for David Levien: "Crime fiction at its finest."--Christopher Reich  "Relentless Suspense.”—Harlan Coben   "Top shelf-writing . . . [imagined] with icy . . .  precision."-- Entertainment Weekly   "[As] real as it gets." – The New York Times Book Review   "The new must-read thriller writer." --Lee Child “Stunning crime fiction” —Dayton Daily News         "Levien has an ear for dialog that many of us don't often hear. . . Gripping."--Indianapolis Star         "Heart-wrenching emotion."--People         “David Levien is a marvel. His dialogue is straight-up, so street that it’s a wonder the pages aren’t coated with grit.”—Bookreporter         "Overflowing with intrigue."--The Free-lance Star DAVID LEVIEN, author of Where the Dead Lay and City of the Sun , has been nominated for the Edgar, Hammett, and Shamus awards, and is also a screenwriter and director (including co-director of Solitary Man (2009) starring Michael Douglas). He lives in Connecticut.  13 Million Dollar Pop is his third Frank Behr novel—and is on sale August 2011. Chapter 1 Frank Behr walked two steps ahead of the principal toward the blacked-out Chevy Suburban. The winter had cracked a few weeks earlier, and the night air swirling around them had lost its bite. The report of their hard shoes on concrete reverberated off the walls of the underground parking garage of the Pierson Street office building. The principal was half a foot shorter than he was, so looking back, Behr had a clean view of the amber-lit geometric rows, now mostly devoid of cars due to the late hour, that spread out around them.     “Yeah . . .  yes,” the principal said into his cell phone, “it’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon lat­est. Shugie’s just getting the press conference together.”     The principal was Bernard Kolodnik, a prominent business­man with a real estate and property development background who was so smooth and successful in his dealings that he was admiringly known around greater Indianapolis, and through­out the Midwest, as “Bernie Cool.” Fit at fifty, Kolodnik had a strong jaw, blue-gray eyes, and hair the color of steel-cut wheat.     “What? What?” Kolodnik said, fighting reception that was growing choppy as they got farther underground. “You’re crap­ping out on me, Ted . . .  Ted?” He clicked off the call.    “Damn things,” Kolodnik muttered to himself of the cell phone, and began walking more quickly. Behr, in turn, stepped up his pace.    Executive protection. It wasn’t an area in which Behr was expert. He was pinch-hitting for Pat Teague, who had approached his desk at 6:15, when he’d been about done for the day, and asked him to fill in. Teague was an involved father apparently, and had a few kids playing several sports or vice versa. Either way, there were a lot of games for him to go to, as Behr had got­ten similar requests a few other times over the past six months he’d been at the Caro Group, the private investigation and secu­rity company that was as close as it got to a white-shoe firm in the field.    The job was an uneasy fit for Behr. Working for someone else—along with the starched collars, the suits and ties, and the stiff and shiny black Florsheim wingtips he was required to wear—rubbed him the wrong way. In fact, the outfit chafed his feet and neck raw for the first couple of weeks. But with Susan near nine months pregnant he found himself doing what he had to to earn a living, and trying to make his peace with it.    Behr had been reluctant about filling in for Teague the first time he was asked, not being professionally trained as a body man. But Teague assured him he was up to it without any advance preparation, that Kolodnik was a low-maintenance client who just wanted someone to organize his table at restaurants and to keep away “wakeboppers”—his term for business aspirants hop­ing to make contact and gain by the association. There was noth­ing against the switch in company policy, so Behr had asked a few questions, read some tactical guidance in the archives, and gone ahead in order to collect the extra money. He soon learned he was basically meant to be a hybrid of chauffeur and babysitter.    All sound besides their footsteps dropped away as they