Chapter 30
Flynn handed me the phone, and I talked to Mickey. His distraught voice filtered through the speaker. “They’ve got her. Said if I don’t come up with the money, they’re going to kill her.”
"Who's got her?" I asked.
"I don't know.”
“When did they contact you?"
"Just now.”
"By phone?”
"Yes.”
"We’re talking about Kendra, right?”
"Yes.”
"Did you get proof of life?"
"No,” Mickey said. “The call caught me totally off guard, as you can imagine."
"Did they make any other demands, set a timeline, give you a location for the exchange?”
“No. None of that. They just said they'd be in touch, and details would follow. They warned me not to go to the police or involve anyone else.” Mickey panicked. "What if they're monitoring this phone call right now? What if they know I'm talking to you?”
"Just take a deep breath and try to relax. JD and I handle this type of thing all the time. One thing to keep in mind is that they need to keep her alive if they want to get paid. Did they give you a specific ransom demand?"
Mickey hesitated. "$150 million.”
That hung there for a moment. It certainly wasn't chump change.
"They either think I have the money, or they think I know where it is.”
“Do you?”
Mickey hesitated again. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Un-complicate it.”
Mickey went silent for a long moment. “I don’t remember.”
My brow wrinkled with annoyance. “What do you mean, you don’t remember?”
He sighed. “It was the fucking ’80s, man. Do you know how much cocaine, weed, and whiskey I ingested? Jail was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. It saved my life. I was on the fast track to a pine box.”
“Let me get this straight. You stole $150 million from Pepe Sandoval, hid it somewhere in the Keys, and you don’t remember where?”
“Stole might be a strong word.”
“Mickey!”
“Okay, yeah. I stole the cash and ratted him and all his buddies out. I figured I’d grab the money when I got out. I’ve been looking for it ever since.”
“You weren’t worried about reprisals?”
“Hell yes, I was worried. But Pepe Sandoval is dead.”
“This could be someone from his crew. Maybe someone who just got out.”
“Or it could be some random loser trying to get their hands on my stash.”
There was another long silence as we contemplated our next move.
“You know where Diver Down is?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet us there,” I said. “We’ll go back to my boat and come up with a game plan. In the meantime, I’ll try to track the call to your phone.”
“You can do that?”
“I have resources. Where are you now?”
“I’m at home.”
“Make sure you’re not followed.”
“I can do that. I know how to lose a tail.”
“Alright. We’ll see you in a bit.”
I ended the call with Mickey, gave the phone back to Flynn, and told Tiffany we had to run.
She made a sad face. "I totally understand. I was hoping you guys would get to hang out a little bit longer, but the shoot is over, and duty calls."
"I'll look for the magazine cover when it comes out," I said. "You have any idea what the lead time is?”
"Usually it's three to six months, but they're bumping it up to stay current. I'm told the images will hit the online version of the magazine as soon as next week, and the print version next month."
"I'll be sure to keep an eye out.”
We said our goodbyes, left the warehouse, and hurried back to the Revenant.
We climbed into the behemoth, and Jack took the wheel.
He powered up the beast, and we rolled out of the parking lot, the knobby tires whirring against the asphalt.
By the looks of the thing, you’d think it would be bouncy and uncomfortable, but the advanced suspension made it ride like a limousine.
This wasn't a nimble vehicle that you zipped around town in. It could roll over most cars on the road. It was a big, lumbering cruiser.
I called Isabella along the way and asked her to track incoming calls to Mickey’s phone. I wasn't surprised to learn that the kidnapper’s call had been bounced around the Internet through a VPN and multiple proxy servers. It would be almost impossible to trace.
While I had her on the phone, I asked her to look into possible suspects—anyone associated with Pepe Sandoval.
We made it back to Diver Down. Jack found a place to park, we climbed out of the beast, stepped inside, and waited. Flynn’s presence drew plenty of stares. He could leave people a little star-struck.
He chatted with Teagan a bit.
“Tango & Tequila is one of my favorite movies,” she said.
Flynn smiled. “That was a lot of fun to make. Did well at the box office too.”
A girl came up to Flynn and asked for his autograph.
Flynn grabbed a pen and a napkin from the bar. “What’s your name, sugar?”
She told him, and Flynn scribbled something.
Mickey arrived shortly thereafter, looking frazzled. His hands trembled with nerves, and he was all over the map. A thin mist of sweat coated his brow. It was enough to set anyone off kilter.
“Have you heard any more from the kidnappers?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“No.” He glanced around at the patrons. All eyes were on us now. “Is there somewhere we can talk about this in private?”