Page 19 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

Nicky said, “We’re all about to hear it for the first time.”

“So how do we know it’s legit?” asked Jeff Penney, the SWAT leader. “This could be somebody’s idea of a sick joke.”

Mike Hardy laughed. “You’re right. This is all just an elaborate prank on you, Penney.”

“Don’t do that, Hardy,” Jeff said. “This could easily be some jerk trying to cash in on a bad situation.”

“Except that nobody outside this building knows what happened a few hours ago,” Mike said. Then, with a smirk, he added: “Unless you’re talking to the press.”

Nicky had to bite her lower lip to stop from smiling as the LAPD’s SWAT team leader’s face turned a furious shade of red. Mike loved to push things to the edge and see what happened. And what had happened now was that Jeff looked like a tick about to pop.

“The kidnappings happened two hours ago, ” Jeff said. “Shit, I was hearing rumors before I set foot in this building. Word spreads like greased lightning in this town!”

“Enough of that, Captain Penney,” said the mayor. “Agent Gordon? Let us hear the tape.”

Nicky pressed play. The first thing she noticed was the ambient hiss on the tape. This message, whatever it might be, had been recorded on a device with a primitive microphone.

But the voice itself sounded as if it had been digitally distorted. Either that or the speaker was underwater.

“We have the Schraeders,” the mysterious voice said, so garbled it was almost unintelligible.

Nicky flinched. Deep in her bones, she knew this was the real deal. This was not someone playing a joke. This person meant every word.

“Elizabeth, aka Boo, thirty-four years old, last seen wearing a pale blue L’Agence blouse and white jeans.

Calvin, aka Cal, nine years old, last seen wearing a red Burberry polo shirt and dark trousers.

Finnegan, aka Finney, eight years old, last seen wearing a light top and a plaid Dolce and Gabbana skirt.

Tyler, forty-eight years old, and Cassandra Bart, twenty-six years old, were both unclothed at the time of the abduction.

All five were taken at three fifteen p.m. Pacific daylight time. ”

“Shit,” Jeff said. “Nobody except the kidnappers could possibly know all that detail.”

Mike didn’t give him so much as an I told you so glance. Like Nicky, he was troubled by what he was hearing. Not the details so much as the tone.

The voice continued:

“We removed the Schraeders from their ordinary lives with great care. If you want them safely returned to their ordinary lives, you must act with equal care.”

Here it comes. Nicky braced herself for the follow-up punch.

She’d been in these situations dozens of times.

The ransom demands varied in terms of price, but they all featured the same elements: The personal details no one except the kidnappers could possibly know.

The threat that unless the authorities followed the kidnappers’ instructions to the letter, the victims would be killed.

Next would come a series of complicated directions that would push the task force to the edge of its capabilities and then, finally, the ransom demand itself.

But the tape contained nothing but hiss.

After ten seconds, Jeff cleared his throat. “Is that it?”

“Shhh,” the mayor said from the screen.

Another ten seconds of ambient noise.

Then thirty more.

Around the sixty-second mark, Mike Hardy leaned over the conference table and murmured to Nicky: “That can’t be all.”

But this was the Sandbox; every other participant could hear him.

Nicky couldn’t believe it either. This wasn’t a ransom demand. It was simply a prelude. A table setting. But to what end? What did these kidnappers want, ultimately?

After more interminable silence…

“Should we fast-forward this damn thing?” Jeff Penney asked. “I mean, what the hell is their point?”

“No,” Nicky said impulsively.

After three full minutes of silence, the mayor sighed. “That’s enough. These bastards are toying with—”

“Congratulations,” said the voice on the tape. “If you are listening to these words, you demonstrated a degree of patience. You’re going to need that to bring the Schraeders home safely.”

The mayor was right, Nicky thought. The bastards were toying with them. But the kidnappers were also teaching them all how to behave, much like you teach dogs to behave by not letting them enter the house until you give the verbal cue.

Sit. Stay. Stay…

Then:

Come .

“Tell Randolph Schraeder to meet with his money manager right away. If he wants to see his family members alive again, he’ll need to gather one billion dollars.”

Everyone in the Sandbox looked at each other. Did they just hear that right?