Page 14 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

“That’s my favorite!” Finney exclaimed.

Four smiled. “I know.”

Truthfully, someone else had done the research (and, yes, the children’s dietary habits were fully detailed). But Three and Four had had to choose the hideaway location. The only rule One had insisted on was that no one could help them or be in contact with them at any point.

That meant no babysitters, no spotters, no nothing. If One discovered they had secret coconspirators, he’d warned, two things would happen: They would never see a dime of the ransom, and they would be turned over to the authorities within the hour.

It’s not as if they would be in a position to point a finger at One; nobody knew his name or had any way to identify him.

Finding the hideaway had been left up to them, and that was a whole other challenge. Cal and Finney were white. Three and Four were not. There were certain neighborhoods where that would attract attention. And they wanted zero attention. So that shrank the map of possibilities.

Luckily, Four was a part-time real estate agent, one of her many side hustles over the past seven years, so she’d searched for an ideal neighborhood with a house that had been on the market for a while. Which was difficult these days; LA’s housing market was so tight, it practically squeaked.

But Four had kept searching—she always worked bestunder pressure—and found this modest town house in Garden City, which had been a multiracial town since its founding. The private garage on the ground level was a bonus. As was the well-equipped kitchen, which was far nicer than the one they had at home.

As she opened the oven, Four was startled to find Cal watching her from the doorway.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Four replied.

“Why are you doing this? Kidnapping is a serious felony.”

“What we’re doing,” Four said very carefully, “has nothing to do with the two of you. You and your sister will be safe and well cared for. You have my word on that.”

“I’m not worried about us,” Cal said.

“You’re not?”

“I’m a good judge of character,” Cal replied. “And like I said, you and your husband seem like very nice people.”

“Why, thank you.”

“But clearly you didn’t doallyour kidnapping research, because my father isnota very nice person. And he’s not going to like that you did this.”

From the other room, Four heard a cry of disbelief from her husband, followed by a bit of gloating from Finney Schraeder.

“Guessed it inthreemoves!”

“Are you cheating?”

“Ha-ha-ha! Who’s the Mastermindnow?”

CHAPTER 17

Wednesday, 5:21 p.m.

“SO WHAT NOW?” Boo Schraeder asked.

“What do you mean, what now?” Two said.

Boo looked up at him with impatience on her pretty face, and Two resisted the urge to smile.

Must have been a real shock to roll out of a Beverly Hills salon and wind up handcuffed to a chair in an unfinished room with no windows, spartan furniture, and soundproofed walls and ceiling. The overall effect was not unlike a backroom massage parlor in a bad part of town. The minimal lighting covered up a whole lot of ugly.

Two’s eyes had adjusted to the near darkness. Boo’s had not. He could feel her straining to read his expression.

“I mean, how long are you planning on keeping me here? Wherever this is.”