Page 79 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

MIKE HARDY LOOKED up from the screen, where new instructions had just appeared. “Anybody seeing this insanity? Is anyone actually in charge over there at Kidnappers Inc.?”

“Now they want delivery near San Clemente,” Jeff Penney said. “That’s damn near halfway to Mexico. Maybe that’s their plan?”

“Who are we liaising with down there, Gordon?” Mike asked. “Maybe they’ve got a team in TJ waiting for the handoff.”

“Handoff?” Jeff said. “This isn’t a football, Hardy. This is a billion dollars . They’re not going to shove the money down the front of their pants and take a stroll over the San Ysidro crossing.”

“It’s a long border, genius. I’m not suggesting we guard it. I’m saying we get our Mexican pals to hunt for the team on their side. You know, look for suspicious transport vehicles, anything out of the ordinary—”

The usually reserved Ross Lindbergh, who had volunteered to stay in touch with Schraeder’s team, was becoming increasingly agitated.

“Quiet, quiet! I’m on with Omaha. They’re preparing to load the bags onto the jet. Do I tell them to proceed?”

They all looked over at Nicky Gordon. She was still considering the sudden change of delivery instructions, trying to see the bigger game.

Moving something as monumental as a billion dollars—ten tons in paper money—would be a logistical challenge on an ordinary day.

And damn near impossible to change on impulse.

So all this noise was just that. Noise and disinformation.

Of course the kidnappers know their plan, right down to the smallest detail.

“They just haven’t given it to us yet,” Nicky mumbled.

“What’s that?” Mike asked.

She turned to Ross. “Tell Omaha to stand by. Delivery instructions aren’t complete yet.” And then, to the others gathered: “Nobody respond unless I say so. Let’s let them finish clearing their throat, and maybe they’ll get around to giving us the real instructions.”

Nicky’s hunch was correct. For the next half hour, the delivery details continued to shift like beach sand.

From San Clemente, the drop-off was switched to nearby John Wayne Airport, then to an absurd number of closed roads in the immediate vicinity, none of which gave them any indication of where the billion might be moving after the drop-off.

After sending what seemed to be the final version of these instructions, the kidnappers demanded the task force acknowledge their receipt, and they wanted separate confirmation from the Schraeder team via Capital.

“What do we say?” Ross asked.

“Nothing,” Nicky Gordon responded.

“Come on,” Jeff said. “At the very least, we have to let Schraeder’s team know what’s going on. The last thing we told them was Santa Monica. They might be preparing a flight plan. Hell, they might be in the air as we speak!”

“No,” Nicky said. “Not yet.”

In this moment, she was multitasking like crazy: Considering the shape of the kidnappers’ ultimate plan. Checking the faces of her fellow task force members to see if anyone displayed a nervous tell or was trying to urge a specific course of action.

And of course, her thoughts were on Kaitlin. Where she might be. What was going through her daughter’s mind.

“Hey.”

This was Mike, who had rolled his chair over next to hers. He leaned in close and flashed her a warm smile. “Real talk. You doing okay?”

Nicky nodded, trying not to betray any emotion on her face. Are you asking for me, Mike, or are you asking because you’re the mole?

“What I mean is, are you still okay doing this?”

This meaning “the job.” Nicky didn’t know if she should be touched by his concern or insulted by the implication that she could no longer head up the task force.

“I’m good,” she replied. “But I would appreciate it if you could follow up with your detective friend about Kaitlin.”

“We’re in constant contact,” Mike said. “We’ll find her, Nick. Don’t worry.”

“I know she’s in good hands.”

Ross Lindbergh slammed his fist on the table, which was an extremely un–Ross Lindbergh–like thing to do. He was the quiet man of their team, the patient and methodical money expert.

“I can’t believe these assholes!” he shouted.

That was because, abruptly, an entirely new set of ransom instructions had been delivered to their internal chat service. This one focused on the Santa Anita racetrack and involved an entire fleet of police helicopters. Which meant they had to start the process all over again.