Page 64 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

TWO DID NOT like the sound of any of this. Not One’s irritated tone. Not the abrupt change of plans. What the hell was going on? Clearly, something had gone wrong, and some part of the plot, if not the whole thing, was collapsing. But all Two could say in this moment were words of total compliance:

“Yes, One, I understand.”

One disconnected before Two had the chance to do it himself.

Shit.

Two truly missed the built-in gossip network of the LAPD.

Even if your commanding officer wouldn’t tell you jack shit, there was always someone you could ask for insight on any given situation.

Maybe a fellow cop who’d had one too many after a long shift.

Or bored retirees keeping a hand in the mix.

Ex-wives. Even somebody else’s CI, someone who might want to get one over on their handler.

But with One, there was no network. One was the lone nexus point for all of them.

Two didn’t even know the identities of his fellow teammates.

(He had some vague ideas, but nothing concrete.) There was no way to know if one of them had screwed up or maybe turned snitch on the rest of them.

They were all operating in the dark, except for those times when One deigned to let a little light slip in.

“What is it?” Boo asked.

Two realized his captive had been studying his face and could easily read the complex emotions playing out on his features. There was no time to sugarcoat it for her.

“We have to move,” he said. “Right now.”

“Where?”

“I’ll let you know when we get there.”

Boo reached out and grabbed his forearm as if trying to stop him from touching a hot stove. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t pretend we’re right back to the way things started. I can help, you know.”

“Help? Help how, exactly?”

“I think best when I’m under pressure. First, tell me why we’re leaving in such a hurry.”

Two almost blurted it out, but hesitated.

This was moving too fast. He suspected he could trust her, but it was far from a certainty.

If he told Boo Schraeder what One had just told him—that a SWAT team was en route to this location—she could easily make trouble for him.

Even delaying him by thirty seconds could make all the difference.

And then Two would end up in jail, the last place someone in his former profession would want to be.

And even if he survived for a while, One would surely offer a reward for his murder.

Probably wouldn’t even require much of a bounty.

A few extra candy bars and cartons of cigarettes from the commissary would do it.

And then there was Boo… something about her touch. Her kiss. The way she spoke to him, even reassured him despite the circumstances.

Two had always trusted his gut. And his gut was telling him this was real. Was this the world’s most bizarre meet-cute? Absolutely. But that made it even more special.

“We have to leave because I just received a tip that the police are on their way.”

“Here?” she asked. “To this address?”

“Yeah,” Two said.

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” Boo said. “You could have just said it was all part of the plan.”

“I know I could have. But I thought you deserved the truth.”

Boo considered this. “Either you’re the world’s worst kidnapper or you’re actually a decent human being.”

Two shrugged. “Both can be true.”

“Did you call your boss Mr. One?”

“I called him One,” Two admitted. “We all have code names, like in the Taking of Pelham One Two Three .”

“I was thinking about the code names from Reservoir Dogs .”

“Pretty sure Tarantino got that idea from Pelham .”

Boo laughed. “Well, then, Mr. Number Two, my fate is in your hands.”

“Forget all that. Call me Tim.”

Boo smiled as if her captor had just shared his deepest, darkest secret. “Is that your real name? Tim?”

“Yes,” Two said. “That’s my real name.”

“Tim what?”

Why not? Two thought. I might as well tell her everything. And maybe she’ll be smart enough to get us out of this place alive.

“Tim Dowd.”

“Well, then, let’s go, Tim Dowd.”