Page 34 of King’s Ransom

Then Mrs King’s iPhone rang.

She was still standing near Hooper and Longmuir, holding her son.

It was a FaceTime video call.

The caller ID on the screen said: ari (work).

‘Ari’s other phone . . .’ Yasmina King said, perplexed.

‘My goodness, Mrs King,’ said the voice from my phone. ‘I think your husband’s calling. Might want to answer that.’

She accepted the call and held it up for us all to see.

Aristo King’s face appeared on the screen.

He was in a dark place, his face filling the frame, lit by the light of his own cell phone.

Over his nose and mouth he wore a clear-plastic oxygen mask.

‘Ari!’ Yasmina King cried. ‘Are you hurt? Are you all right?’

‘I’m . . . I’m okay . . .’ he said, his voice muffled behind the mask.

Director Longmuir stepped forward. ‘Mr King, this is the FBI. We’re at your apartment and on your case—’

‘He’s taken the children, Ari!’ Mrs King called. ‘Alexei, Katya, and your other children! He brought in five detectives who’re here now with the FBI. He wants money!’

King seemed to absorb this.

He gasped behind his mask.

Then he said quickly: ‘To those detectives, hear this. Whoever finds me, I’ll pay you thirty million dollars—’

The line went dead, cutting him off.

The voice on my phone sighed theatrically.

‘Honestly, once a W.O.R.M., always a worm, I suppose. I should add that Mr King is inside a confined space with only a finite amount of air. I told him to breathe shallowly, since you may not find him in time. Are you satisfied now, Mr Insurance Man?’

All eyes turned to McCade.

‘Um, yeah, yeah . . .’ he mumbled quickly.

The voice went on pleasantly.

‘So glad we settled that. Now. To more business. I’m sure the W.O.RM. would appreciate it if you all paid a visit to two more of his children, Ajax and Cassandra.

‘They live in this building, several floors down. But they’re not in their apartment, I’m afraid. I put them in another one.

‘What a pair they are, in the prime of their lives, living every twenty-something’s dream in New York City. Exclusive clubs, celebrity parties, endorsement deals—gosh, it’s all over their Instagram feeds—kind of like when the other worm was in L.A.

‘Alas, nothing lasts forever. At least they now have unobstructed views of the park.

‘Find them and I tell you the price for their lives.

‘But be careful, go to the wrong apartment and you might be the ones who die.

‘You have ten minutes.’