Sharp nodded. “I’ve never seen that in a ransom note before. It’s almost as if he’s protective of the child.”

“He’s had him a while, he might have become attached.” Charlie was thoughtful. “He was very careful when he carried the boy out of here. Remember?”

Kelly sure did. She turned to Amy. “I know Agent Bane spoke with your husband about the ransom money two months ago. Does he still have the cash handy?”

“Yes. But didn’t you guys mark it?”

Charlie spoke. “No. We just recorded the numbers on twenty percent of the bills.”

“Why didn’t you record all the numbers?” Amy asked, her tone slightly demanding.

“This guy is too careful to use the money himself,” Kelly explained. “He’ll shop it to a third party—drug dealers most likely—probably out of the country, and accept, say, sixty bucks on each hundred.” Kelly paused. “It’s the diamonds he really wants.”

“Why?” Amy asked.

“It’s very hard to trace them,” Kelly said.

“Why do they have to be between one and three carats?” Amy asked.

“Four-carat diamonds and larger call attention to themselves,” Charlie replied. “Smaller than a carat wouldn’t be worth his time to dispose of.” Charlie nodded. “The guy is thinking.”

Amy stared down at the note, quoted, “‘They cannot help you anyway.’ Why is he so confident he’s going to get away with it?”

To that question, none of them had a good answer.

FALLING, AS he liked to be addressed, called three days after the delivery of his letter. He rang the Techer’s directly, on their home line, on a Saturday morning at ten o’clock. He stayed on the line only fifteen seconds, his words distorted through a voice modulator. There was no chance to trace the call. In those few seconds he directed David to a phone booth at the corner of Chapman and City Drive in Orange County, on the other side of town. Falling wanted him there by two. He told David to go ahead and enjoy his lunch. Cool customer.

Kelly listened in on the call. She had been staying at the Techers’ residence since the letter had arrived, sleeping in a downstairs bedroom. Amy was lousy company, a waif on Valium. David at least tried to make her as comfortable as possible. The two nights she was there, Kelly heard them going at it in the bedroom.

Carl Techer, David’s father, had not flown in for the excitement.

They had gotten nothing out of him when they had questioned him about the kidnapping. The man had had too many lawyers in the room. Yet everything said the Techer Securities link was a dead end.