Page 11 of King’s Ransom

She had a point.

Tourists would stop by our office to take selfies in front of the door, eager to post its now-celebrated logo on their social media pages:

People interrupted me at lunch at Hooters to get a selfie, even if I was chewing on a mouthful of food.

When you become famous, you kind of become public property.

Sometimes, when you refuse someone’s selfie, they get angry. They think they own you.

It can become a little trying.

That said, my fame would ultimately lead to something far worse than annoying selfies.

The summons from the FBI to New York City.

BILLIONAIRES’ ROW,

NEW YORK CITY

New York City

21 December, 1125 hours

With only thirty-five minutes to go until the noon deadline, our Gulfstream landed at Teterboro Airport, a private airport located just across the Hudson River from Manhattan and the closest to the city.

Stepping out of the jet, I felt the chill instantly, even though I was wearing my trucker jacket and ball cap.

It was cold here.

Much colder than in Texas.

Directly across from our plane was an FBI chopper, its rotors already turning, waiting for us.

Heidi and Bill strode directly across to the helicopter.

I lingered back.

I don’t like flying in helicopters.

If the motor of a single-engine plane fails, that plane can still glide to the ground. If a helicopter’s lone engine fails, it can (in theory) use autorotation to arrest its fall, but I’m very doubtful about that concept.

In order to combat this fear, my therapist Dr Lucy suggested I learn how to fly a helicopter, given that when I know how something works, I accept it more readily.

I’d met her halfway and done 37 hours on a helicopter flight simulator, but I’d still never actually piloted a real chopper.

Bill noticed my hesitation.

We’d discussed my helicopter phobia before, since he’d flown Army choppers in the US invasion of Grenada in 1983 (yes, he was that old; and no, he’d never done an autorotation landing).

He came over and clapped my shoulder reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, son, we’ll be okay. I’ve flown in tons of whirlybirds and I’m still here to tell the tale.’

‘Thanks, Bill.’

I figured on this occasion, given our hurry, I had no choice, so I took a deep breath, girded myself, and boarded the FBI helicopter.

The pilot introduced himself as Jim.

‘Have you ever done an emergency autorotation landing, Jim?’ I asked as I strapped on my seatbelt.