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

Could be anywhere.

the river. Once an attractive place for pleasure boats and day-trippers; now derelict, the

Square is 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 four blocks of houses and shops set

The fountain, also floodlit, dances and sparkles by the central Christmas tree

can think of one or two exceptions to that

drop, hands resting on knees as I regain

For what?

pace, scanning my

in

“James?”

arrived, Ross, but I don’t see

did the

the note, reading aloud. “Corner of Birch Square

side of

Stupid… Stupid…

I’ll

down, James. Keep

don’t reply. He’s right, but

built on three stories

Still nothing.

my breathing tightens again as I look for whatever

Doorways…

Store windows…

A mailbox…

Nothing…

they make it

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

must be

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