Page 86 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

“THIS IS AGENT Gordon,” Nicky said. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Who I am is not important,” a modulated voice said. It sounded similar to the voice on the cassette tapes, only this version was crystal clear and obviously spoken live.

“What should I call you, then?”

“You may call me One.”

“Thank you, One. Are you prepared to guarantee the safe return of the Schraeder family?”

“First, we need to discuss the money. Do you have it gathered as per our specifications?”

“We were waiting for your final delivery instructions,” Nicky said. “Are you ready to share them?”

There was silence on the line. The word final, of course, was pointed. Nicky knew One was playing games. One knew that he was playing games. It was time to end the games and get down to business.

“Yes,” One finally said. “We will be sending coordinates once we know the payment is ready for delivery. But first we will require visual proof of the ransom and accountant-verified documentation.”

Nicky had anticipated something like this. She knew they would be wary of a ringer package, perhaps counterfeit paper and Hollywood-style costume jewelry that would pass a visual test.

“And we require similar proof,” Nicky said. “We want to see Boo Schraeder alive and well. And Tyler Schraeder. And, most of all, Cal and Finney Schraeder. Otherwise, there will be no ransom delivery.”

“Unacceptable,” the synthesized voice of One said, and he disconnected.

Huh .

After a moment of stunned silence, Mike Hardy exhaled. “Well, that was interesting.”

“What did you people do?” bellowed Randolph Schraeder, who clearly had not been muted by James Haller. “If my family suffers because of your bungling—”

“This is give-and-take, Mr. Schraeder,” Nicky said calmly. “We need to make it clear that this is a negotiation, not a one-way street. This is for the safety of your family.”

“Are you seriously trying to school me on how to negotiate, Agent Gordon? I’ve been closing multimillion-dollar deals since before you were a gleam in your daddy’s eye. Hell, before your daddy was in diapers .”

Nicky had expected Schraeder to say something like this—to throw his age and so-called experience in her face.

She nodded to Hope Alonso, who had the power to mute Randolph Schraeder during any future communication with the kidnappers.

The nod meant Be ready . Hope sat with her finger ready to click the mute button on the call software.

She had been tasked with managing the communication among the parties if things went south.

“Agent Gordon,” James Haller said, “I hope you’re doing everything in your power to get the mysterious Mr. One back on the line.”

Hope nodded at Nicky, who said: “We’re trying him again right now.”

“You’d better pray he responds,” Schraeder said, “or I swear to God, I will destroy all your careers. You will spend the rest of your miserable lives in courtrooms being deposed.”

Mike Hardy made a gesture with his right hand indicating self-pleasure. Nicky shot him a glare: Funny, but not the right time.

“The kidnappers will respond, Mr. Schraeder,” Nicky said. “They don’t want your family. They want your money.”

“They had better respond, Agent Gordon.”

But Hope shook her head—no response yet. Nicky remembered the long stretches of silence on the two previous tapes and realized they might be in for a long wait. These kidnappers took a sadistic pleasure in keeping their targets twisting in the wind.

“While we wait to reconnect,” Nicky said, “we’re going to need those photographs of the ransom. Can you forward them to us?”

“My team just sent everything you need.”

And so they had. Hope opened the dozen images and pushed them to the Sandbox’s largest overhead screens.

So that was what a billion dollars looked like.