‘This is a full rundown of how we’re going to do it.’
I flick through the pages and I’m stunned by how detailed it is.
‘What’s to stop me from going to the police and telling them everything you’ve just said?’
‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘But it would be your word against mine, and I’ll deny it. You won’t get your money, and all that work you did will have been for nothing. Even if you take me to court, I can’t pay you if I don’t have the money, can I?’ For a moment, his bravado slips, and he looks ashamed. ‘I want to pay you, Neville. You’ve done a good job.’
I sigh. What the hell has this bastard dragged me into? ‘How can I trust you? According to this,’ I say, nodding at the paperwork, ‘you’ll be getting the ransom money. For all I know, you’ll keep the lot, stitch me up, and I’ll spend the next fifteen years in prison.’
‘How canItrustyounot to tell Jo?’ he counters.
‘Okay, touché. But you’ll still be pocketing the ransom.’
He reaches for the whisky bottle and realises it’s empty. He starts to stand, but I stop him with a hand on his shoulder.
‘If you want me to take this seriously, you’ll do it sober.’
He nods and sits back down. ‘Here’s the deal,’ he says. ‘When I get the first ransom payment, I’ll do a drop-off. Make it look real. I’ll leave half of what I owe you at the drop. If I don’t, you go to the police. That way, you’ve got protection, and I’ve got some guarantee you won’t talk. I’ll still need the next payment to clear the rest of my debts, so I’m not about to screw you over. We’ll both get what we want, and I’ll throw in extra for your trouble.’
I scoff. ‘I only want what I’m owed.’
Daniel leans across the table.
‘I’m not going to screw you. One look at my bank accounts, and the police will know I’m in deep shit. I’ll be their firstsuspect. However, if we work together, we both come out ahead. The only person who will know Jo has been kidnapped is her friend, Gil. I need someone to witness the demands being made.’
How the hell didn’t I see this coming? He seemed like a decent guy when we first met, the man with everything. Christ, I’ve even been jealous of him these past few months: beautiful wife, perfect house, no money worries. And in the seven months I’ve been renovating his place, he’s been flushing it all down the bog.
‘She’ll recognise my voice,’ I say.
‘Put cotton wool in your mouth, it muffles the sound. She won’t know it’s you. Besides, we’re keeping her safe. It’s not like we’re chucking her in some dingy hole. You can even cook her nice food.’
That makes me laugh out loud. I can’t cook to save my life. I live on microwave meals. I take the folder and stand up. His expression changes.
‘You don’t expect me to make a decision right now, do you?’ I ask.
‘We don’t have much time.’
‘I need to look this over. I’ll be in touch.’
‘It’s taken me hours to work this out,’ he snaps, his face flushing. ‘And you’re going to make me wait?’
I down the last of my whisky. ‘Yeah, I am because I’ve got a lot to think about. Maybe you’ve had hours, but I haven’t. You had the world at your feet. A wife who adored you. What kind of fucking idiot are you?’
At least he has the decency to look ashamed. ‘Don’t think I don’t know.’
‘It was greed. It’s always greed. People like you, it’s never enough. Now look at you. I don’t have much, but I’ve got my self-respect, and for some reason I’m seriously considering letting you take that away from me.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he mutters, staring at the table.
‘I’ll be in touch.’
‘Aren’t you coming to Jo’s do?’
‘No. I couldn’t look her in the eye.’
With that, I walk out of the pub. I’m in such a state of shock it takes me ten minutes to realise I’m walking the wrong way. I turn around, my head pounding. I stop at the off-licence, buy a bottle of vodka, and try to process what the hell just happened.
***
