Page 6 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
Her task: Disabling every traffic and surveillance camera within range of the stopping point, which was marked on the asphalt with a spray-painted grayX.She’d steadily, carefully, taken aim and fired the laser at each camera, one by one, and the intense heat fried the pixels inside. Sophomore was grateful for all those archery lessons at summer camp back in New Jersey.
Within twenty minutes, the only operating street camera was the one that would record the two-minute abduction from the perfect angle. Again, all per her mysterious employer’s instructions.
Sophomore’s last job on her way out of the house was to avoid that lone functioning camera, which was why she left through the back and cut through the yard of the adjacent property. All of this had been scouted out in advance. There were no cameras, and the only neighbors were in Europe for the next few weeks. Sophomore made her way to the street where she’d parked the SUV that had been rented for her.
She didn’t have to go through the hassle of returning the vehicle. All she had to do was park it at the designated spot on Hilgard Avenue and walk back to UCLA. She was almost sad to leave the SUV; it was nicer than any car she’d ever driven.
Sophomore refused to be the weak link in this operation and prided herself on handling the little details. She pulled disinfecting wipes from her pack and took a minute to clean the steering wheel, gearshift, and start button. She used a lint roller on the driver’s seat to pick up any stray hairs that might have escaped from her baseball cap.
There. Perfect.
Hopefully.
She waited until she was back in her room on campus to check her account balance.
Like magic, there it was: She was twenty-five thousand dollars richer. For the moment. She needed to visit the bursar’s office and catch up with her tuition payments. But there would be alittleleft over for recreational activities.
Sophomore checked the news on her personal cell phone, the one she’d left in her dorm. There was nothing yet, of course, but she set a Google alert to stay informed. She had to make sure the kids were okay. She didn’t need that on her conscience as well.
CHAPTER 8
THREE AND FOUR made the getaway a kind of game for Cal and Finney, and they seemed perfectly happy to participate. Cal was assigned the role of timekeeper; Finney was the traffic cop.
“Now, Cal, you keep your eyes on the stopwatch,” Four said. “And Finney, you check the streets for a white Audi. If you see the car before the minute is up, you get a point.”
“And if she doesn’t see the Audi before time’s up?” Cal asked.
Well, there was zero chance of that. Three and Four had the route and switch cars plotted out perfectly. It should take only forty-five seconds to reach the next car. The goal was to keep the children busy so they wouldn’t think about ways to run away or alert any passersby.
“Thirty seconds to go!”
“I see it! I see it!”
“No, dummy, that’s a Rolls-Royce, not an Audi!”
“Look again,” Four said.
“There it is!”
Three and Four and the kids changed vehicles three times in the next seven minutes.
The Schraeder children racked up multiple points, clearly excited to be winning so easily—and not thinking about where they were going. Four could practically read their minds:What’s bad about this? So far, being kidnapped is fun!
CHAPTER 9
Wednesday, 3:14 p.m.
PARADISE CAME IN many forms. But the best versions of paradise—at least in Tyler Schraeder’s opinion—were those private Edens that kept out the snakes.
Edens like this insanely exclusive Baja California resort not far from Cabo San Lucas on Mexico’s East Cape. Spacious villas right on the beach, their kitchens stocked with gourmet food, each with a private pool and spa complete with sauna, mud bath, and jet bath. For Tyler, the resort’s most attractive feature was its location—over a thousand miles from the nearest Hollywood studio. Tyler could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted, and no one would be photographing him, recording him, or even glancing in his direction.
In fact, since stepping off the private jet earlier this afternoon, Tyler and Cass hadn’t had to deal with a single human being. Even the journey to their private cottage had beenentirely automated. It was like everyone else on the planet had disappeared, and they enjoyed the place in peace and quiet for once.
Back on the studio lot in the real world, it was 3:14 p.m., but here on the Mexican coast of Baja California, time ceased to exist, along with all the rules.
“Bring that gorgeous ass over here,” Cass said to Tyler with the come-hither smile she hoped would become her trademark on the big screen.
See, right there—in the real world, Cassandra Bart wouldn’t risk uttering those six words in front of any human being, let alone to a camera. She wouldn’t even risksextingthose words; that wasn’t her brand. On-screen, she was an earnest and determined hero who would not stop until she saved the world. But here in paradise, she could say anything she wanted and just get herfreakon.
