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?

they can

Could be anywhere.

river. Once an attractive place

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

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

I can think of one or two exceptions to that

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

For what?

scanning

in the right

“James?”

arrived, Ross, but I don’t see

the

“Corner of

Moorings extend right along behind the western side of the square. Perhaps it’s

Stupid… Stupid…

right. I’ll go

James. Keep your

but I don’t need reminding

red-bricks built on three

Still nothing.

tightens again as I look for

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

would they make it hard to

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

be watching

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