Page 87 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

THE FIRST FEW images from Capital showed four tightly wrapped pallets, each as big as an industrial-size washing machine. The next focused on a much smaller vessel: a black polycarbonate container.

“Whoa,” Mike Hardy said with the awe of a car enthusiast checking out a high-end sports car. “What are we looking at here, Haller?”

“We will forward copies of the itemized lists, along with serial numbers and requisite paperwork, within the hour,” James Haller replied.

“Walk us through it now,” Nicky said. “The more we know about the ransom, the better we’ll understand how the kidnappers might move it.”

Randolph Schraeder said in his gruff voice, “Go on and tell them, Jim.”

“Of course, Mr. Schraeder,” Haller said, sounding as if he’d been smacked on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

The pallets were stacks of cash, Haller explained, all in hundred-dollar bills, each pallet containing one hundred million dollars.

“There was no way to make the stacks more compact, since the US government no longer circulates anything larger than a hundred-dollar bill,” he continued. “These four pallets add up to four hundred million, forty percent of the ransom.”

“How much does each pallet weigh?” Nicky asked.

“A little north of two thousand pounds.”

So the handoff would require a pallet jack or power stacker. A good operator could transfer the pallets from one vehicle to another in short order. But it wouldn’t be instantaneous, meaning they’d have a little bit of time on their side, Nicky thought. “Nonsequential numbers?”

“Naturally, because they’ll ask. But each bill has been scanned and recorded.”

“What’s in the little guy?” Mike asked.

The “little guy” was the polycarbonate container. It held the other 60 percent of the ransom.

“Assorted jewels,” Haller said.

Randolph Schraeder snorted, clearly offended by the terse summary. The man was strangely proud of what he’d been able to gather, and he began to detail the contents of the container.

“That single case,” Schraeder said, “holds a number of one-hundred-carat diamond rings worth nearly twelve million each. Also, a collection of rare Colombian emeralds, the largest collection of its kind anywhere in the world, and they run about seven million for each fifty-carat gem. There are also rubies, padparadscha sapphires, paraiba tourmalines…”

All of which added up to six hundred million dollars—and not a penny more, according to Schraeder, who had insisted on having a certified gemologist assist Virgil Tighe in gathering the ransom.

The next series of photos sent by Capital showcased those precious gems. If you were into fine jewelry, the images were borderline pornographic.

To Nicky, it looked like someone had smashed the front windows of a fancy jewelry boutique on Rodeo Drive and cleaned out the displays.

Just one of those gems would take care of Kaitlin’s educational needs forever.

All that value depended on eons of geological formation—and all of it was set to change hands in a couple of days.

Human beings, Nicky thought, are absurd creatures .

“As soon as we have the delivery point,” James Haller said, “we’ll have the cash and jewels in the air. My associate Virgil Tighe will accompany the ransom the entire way.”

“They’re gonna ask about tracking devices,” Jeff Penney said.

“I’m sure they will,” Haller responded.

Nicky frowned. “Anything you need to tell us?”

An awkward silence descended. Randolph Schraeder started to say something, then apparently thought better of it.

“That won’t be a problem,” Haller said. Which was not a denial that there would be tracking devices.

“One is back on the line,” Hope said.