The show was finally on the road. Kelly and Charlie picked up David ten minutes later, on the freeway, heading toward Orange County. As usual, Charlie drove like a fiend, even following someone who didn’t. They could communicate with David directly via his microphone, and the implant in his ear. Kelly did a trial test and David complained about the weather. He was a piece of work.

“Think she married him for love?” Charlie asked after she broke the connection.

“Love of money. The real question is, why did he marry her?”

“She’s a fox,” Charlie said.

“She’s strange. She has no personality. She stares too much.”

“She’s probably a great fuck. The weird ones always are.”

“The voice of experience?”

“Damn right. Let’s talk about the case. Does this guy have a partner or not?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“No way. His connection to David and Amy is personal.”

Kelly followed his leap in logic. “I’ve been thinking the same. So you agree with Vicki that we hammer whoever grabs the money? You think it will be him?”

Charlie paused. “This guy is not going to let us see him.”

“Then how is he going to get the money?”

“I don’t know.”

“Be vague why don’t you.”

Charlie smiled. “We’re in for an interesting day.”

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon: overcast but still sticky; L.A.’s infamous June gloom. David drove the speed limit all the way to Orange County, worried the legion of surrounding FBI agents would give him a ticket. He waved to her and Charlie once and she was on the line in an instant, yelling at him not to do that.

“Why are the children of the rich always so stupid?” she wondered aloud.

They had not cased the phone booth, although they had plenty of time. There was an excellent chance the kidnapper could be in visual range of the booth. But they had the corner videotaped in four different directions in case he drove by. Because if he did it once—and he directed David to another location—then he might drive by a second time. Then, later, they could compare tapes and identify his car, if not his face. But Charlie did not think Falling would make such an elementary mistake.

They parked around the corner from the phone booth. They had others to watch David; it was more important for them to listen. The time was ten minutes to two. Vicki came over the line. Kelly was not sure where she was, only that she was close. Their helicopter was five miles south, invisible, carrying a high-powered telescope and a sharpshooter.

“He stands, waiting for the call,” Vicki said. “At least he does that well.”

“Does he look nervous?” Kelly asked.

“He has his hands in his pockets. I think he’s masturbating.”

“Crude,” Kelly said.