Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chapter 5

James

Despite the cold, my heated face streams sweat which soaks down my neck and into my clothes.

Slow down, Man…

You can’t sprint for a mile…

I drop to a trot and my heartbeat decelerates to something more sustainable. The banging behind my ears subsides.

Don’t panic…

The kidnappers may say Don’t be late, but their priority is the money.

Irony slaps me around the cheeks. Here I am, in an area I wouldn’t normally consider walking at night, certainly not alone. And I’m running through it, toting a bag containing a cool million in cash.

The steady rhythm of my jogging sets a metronome ticking in my head, clearing my thoughts.

How fast is a jog?

Six miles an hour?

So, I should cover my mile in the ten minutes I have.

Calm down…

Nonetheless, I find myself counting paces; eating up distance with each one…

They must be watching me…

Where are they watching from?

A parked car?

Some alley I pass, where they can lurk in the darkness?

Could be anywhere.

There… ahead of me… Waverly Moorings… A series of berths alongside the river. Once an attractive place for pleasure boats and day-trippers; now derelict, the jetties and piers rotted and broken.

Birch Square is at the far end from me; an attractive name for the edge of the more reputable parts of town. As the name suggests, it consists of four blocks of houses and shops set around a central quad.

I draw closer, seeing the silhouettes of trees, up-lit by floodlights set in grassy lawns. The fountain, also floodlit, dances and sparkles by the central Christmas tree which stands tall, proclaiming Goodwill To All Men…

Just now, I can think of one or two exceptions to that sentiment.

In the Square, for a moment I drop, hands resting on knees as I regain my breath, then, straightening up, look for… Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

For what?

I pace, scanning my surroundings…

Am I in the right place?

“James?”

“I’ve arrived, Ross, but I don’t see anything.”

“What did the message say, exactly?”

I check the note, reading aloud. “Corner of Birch Square by Waverley Moorings”

“The Moorings extend right along behind the western side of the square. Perhaps it’s the other corner?”

Stupid… Stupid…

“You’re right. I’ll go look.”

“Calm down, James. Keep your thinking clear.”

I don’t reply. He’s right, but I don’t need reminding of it.

I follow the line of houses; handsome red-bricks built on three stories ending in a small parade of designer stores.

Still nothing.

Wandering up and down, my breathing tightens again as I look for whatever the next contact is.

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

Why would they make it hard to find?

Anxiety begins to bubble inside me. My watch tells me I’m two minutes over time…

They must be watching me…

They must know I’m looking…

But my heart is pumping, sending panicky messages whirling around my brain…

I dash along the block, then back again, the bag swinging in my hand, weighing on me.

Calm down…

Think…

Look…

Across the road, a simple park bench, angled to view right along the parade, timber slats set into wrought ironwork. On the uppermost slat, a small brass sign with engraved lettering. Once ‘Harry and Nancy loved this place’.

Now, some lowlife has sprayed the bench… No a los fascistas capitalistas… They might do better not despoiling what said capitalists have provided for them…

Deliberately taking a deep breath, then another, I sit, scanning out and around…

Houses... Apartments... Parked cars... Dental surgery… Greengrocer… Pharmacy… Children's wear store…

Then as I look to my left, I feel like a complete idiot. Laid on the seat, an envelope.

And inside…

Bad Boy! Ditch the headphone. Ditch the phone. Leave them here on the bench…

Next go to Saint Mary’s church, by Quay Street. Any sign of the phone, she dies.

“Ross,” I mutter. “They’ve told me to get rid of your mobile and the earpiece.”

“Oh, crap. Where are they sending you next?”

“Saint Mary’s church. Quay Street.”

“That’s back into the rough areas. You’re on your own. Good luck, James. I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

I set the phone down on the bench, peel out the earphone and set it down too, then once more, I set off.