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?

pass, where they

Could be anywhere.

alongside the river. Once an attractive place

me; an attractive name for the edge of the more reputable parts of town. As the

trees, up-lit by floodlights set in grassy lawns. The fountain, also floodlit, dances and sparkles

can think of one or

on knees as I regain

For what?

scanning my

I in the

“James?”

Ross, but I don’t

did the message

reading aloud. “Corner of Birch Square

Moorings extend right along behind the western side

Stupid… Stupid…

I’ll

Keep your

He’s right, but I don’t need

built on three stories ending in a small parade of designer

Still nothing.

tightens again as

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

would they make

bubble inside me. My watch

be

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