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 can lurk in the

Could be anywhere.

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

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

now, I can think of one or two

Square, for a moment I drop, hands resting on knees as I regain my

For what?

scanning my

in

“James?”

but I don’t

did the

the note, reading aloud. “Corner of Birch Square by

side of the square. Perhaps

Stupid… Stupid…

right. I’ll

Keep

but

on three stories ending in

Still nothing.

and down, my breathing tightens again as I

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

would they make it

inside me. My watch tells

be watching

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255