Page 54 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

MIKE AND NICKY met outside FBI headquarters in Westwood.

Mike held up a smoked-turkey wrap from the Corner Bakery, and when Nicky raised her eyebrows quizzically, he smiled and said, “Special K’s not the only one who needs good food in her belly.

” Nicky took the wrap gratefully. She hadn’t eaten anything since their hurried breakfast many hours ago.

Nicky noted that Mike’s own dinner appeared to be hits from his vape pen, which was why they were standing outside in the warm evening air.

“Who’s that financial-crimes guy again?” Mike asked. “Guy who looks like a linebacker?”

“Ross Lindbergh,” Nicky said. “Why?”

“We’re going to want Lindbergh to nail something down for us,” Mike said. “If this is true, then I think this case is about to solve itself.”

“You want to tell me first, maybe? You know, before I send out for the champagne?”

Mike smirked. “An old buddy from the narcotics squad hit me up while I was waiting for your wrap. Apparently, he and his buddies saw Randy Schraeder ranting on TV, and the eye-rolling started.”

“Why?”

“According to the narcotics guys, these kidnappings are clearly a cartel deal. They’re the only ones with the bankroll, the bodies, and the organizational muscle to pull it off.”

Nicky could follow the logic, but it didn’t feel right. This threat felt homegrown.

“So, what, the cartel is doing a little fundraising by targeting one of the wealthiest people in America?”

“Not targeting. Working with. ”

“What?”

“The narco boys have long suspected that Old Man Schraeder and one of the most powerful cartels go way back. They can’t prove any of it—the guy is too slippery for that.”

Nicky was only two bites into her turkey wrap, and already she felt like tossing it away. “The same Randolph Schraeder who goes on cable news ranting about wanting to get the border wall built and sending refugees back to wherever they came from?”

“There’s a lot of money in hypocrisy,” Mike said.

“Okay,” Nicky said. “Forget that for now. That’s a DEA headache. But in terms of our case—”

“I’m right there with you,” Mike said. “It’s looking more and more like Schraeder had his own family kidnapped.”

“He’d collect his own ransom and the insurance on top of that.”

“All stage-managed by the cartels and those assholes at Capital.” Mike took a long hit of his vape. The pale fumes floated above them for a moment before being swallowed up by the thick evening air over Westwood.

Nicky couldn’t stomach another bite of her turkey. The mom in her refused to waste food, so she wrapped it up and tucked it into her jacket pocket despite knowing she’d never return to it.

“Let’s see what Lindbergh can find,” Nicky said. “We need something real before we go after Schraeder directly.”

As they made their way into the building, Mike said, “Promise me you’re going to finish that wrap.”

“As soon as you promise you’ll quit vaping,” Nicky replied, “which, by the way, is just as bad as actually smoking.”

“You sound just like Special K.”

As soon as he mentioned Kaitlin, Nicky’s cell phone rang. She answered it eagerly, thinking it was her daughter giving her the obligatory Hey, Mom, I’m here and safe, now please let me go live my best life call.

That’s not who it was.