Page 56 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

“WHY DIDN’T YOU message me immediately?” Nicky asked.

“This was hand-delivered just three minutes ago,” Hope said. “It literally just reached your office.”

Three minutes ago, Nicky thought. Just as she was held up by the mystery caller. The only way to hand-deliver something to FBI headquarters was to give it to someone at the security station downstairs.

That meant whoever delivered it had passed right by them both.

The first tape-delivery person had turned out to be a true nobody—no priors, no criminal past. Chances were, the second one would be the same, but Nicky sent agents in pursuit of this person anyway. The kidnappers might have slipped up.

The plastic cassette tape was rushed to the Sandbox and prepared for playback while Hope started the chain of calls that would gather the team.

The tape could not be played until all members of the task force—the mayor of Los Angeles included—were connected to the Sandbox so they could hear it at the same time.

The mayor herself had insisted on this after their first meeting, and Jeff Penney from the SWAT team backed her up.

We all need to work together on this one, blah-blah-blah.

Although Jeff was backing up the mayor not so much because he agreed with her as because he was angling for a promotion in the near future.

The wait was driving Nicky up the wall. In a rapidly evolving situation like this, every second mattered. What if the kidnappers had given time-specific instructions for the drop-off? Clearly they had arranged to have this tape delivered at a specific time.

In the Sandbox, Nicky said, “Alonso, play the tape now.”

“Ma’am? Are you sure?”

Even Mike Hardy raised an eyebrow at this one.

“One hundred percent,” Nicky said. “Any blowback will be on me. I’m tired of these bastards screwing around with us. If they do have a mole on the task force, I’m sure they’ll know about the built-in bureaucratic delay.”

Hope glanced over at Mike. A mole?

Mike Hardy shook his head slightly. Not the time.

Hope pressed play on the thirty-year-old machine. After a minute-long silence, which appeared to be the kidnappers’ way of making sure their listeners were paying attention, the tape began.

“Surely Mr. Schraeder has been able to gather the money by now. Yet we are seeing no signs of him being prepared to deliver it.”

Hope frowned. “How do they know if Schraeder has the money ready?”

“They’re confirming that they have someone on the inside,” Nicky said.

After two minutes of additional silence:

“We are growing impatient.”

And then an even longer stretch of nothing but magnetic-tape hiss, to the point where Nicky found herself checking her watch to see if time was passing as slowly as it seemed to be.

Finally Mike grunted. “They’re not the only ones getting impatient.”

“Should I fast-forward it?” Hope asked.

“No,” Nicky said. Later, she’d have the tape analyzed for any subliminal or ambient noises in the long silences. For now, they would experience the tape recording as intended.

After what felt like a pocket-size eternity, the same voice spoke again, but in a hushed tone, as if sharing a dirty secret:

“Do we have to kill someone to get your attention?”