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

Could be anywhere.

river. Once an attractive place for pleasure

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

floodlights set in grassy lawns. The fountain, also floodlit, dances and sparkles by the central Christmas tree which stands tall, proclaiming Goodwill To

one or two exceptions to

I drop, hands resting on knees as I regain my breath, then, straightening up,

For what?

pace, scanning

in the right

“James?”

but

the message

reading aloud. “Corner of

extend right along behind the western side of the

Stupid… Stupid…

right. I’ll go

down, James. Keep your

right, but I

red-bricks built on three stories ending in a small parade

Still nothing.

breathing tightens again as I look for whatever the next contact

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

make it

begins to bubble inside me. My watch tells me

must be watching

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