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?

alley I pass, where they can lurk in

Could be anywhere.

alongside the river. Once an attractive place for pleasure

the more reputable parts of town. As the name suggests, it

by floodlights set in grassy lawns. The fountain, also floodlit, dances and sparkles by the central Christmas tree

think of one or two exceptions

moment I drop, hands resting on knees as I regain

For what?

pace, scanning

I in the

“James?”

arrived, Ross, but I don’t

the message

reading aloud. “Corner of

right along behind the western side of

Stupid… Stupid…

right. I’ll

James. Keep your thinking

He’s right, but I

on three

Still nothing.

and down, my breathing tightens again as I

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

would they make it hard to

to bubble inside me. My watch tells

be watching

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