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“Get off!” he yelled, raising his arms to protect himself. “Get off me!”
But I didn’t stop, I kept on attacking him, hitting him with my fists, clawing at his face. He stumbled under the force of my anger, and I aimed a kick at him. He grabbed my leg.
“Let me go!” I yelled, hanging onto the door. “Help! Help!”
“Shut your mouth!” He had managed to stand. Blood oozed from his gouged cheeks and there was fury in his eyes as he yanked me away from the car, up the steps, and in through the front door. His strength was overwhelming; each time I managed to grab onto something, he wrenched me away.
“Let me go!” I yelled again.
I swung my arm and my fist connected with his face. He gave a howl of pain, grabbed my shoulders, and slammed me against the wall, pinning me there with his body. He was panting, cursing, squashing the breath from me. His hand came over my mouth, and he raised his other hand, pinching my nose with his fingers. I couldn’t breathe; my eyes bulged. I thought of Lina and my body went limp.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
PRESENT
Ned’s abductor is back in the basement room.
“So, what have you got for me?” I hear him ask.
“Around a million on day twenty-one, so probably ten million if he paid today, exactly like I said.” Ned sounds pleased with himself. “But don’t worry, my father can pay it.”
“You’re right about the million on day twenty-one but I’m afraid he owes us a lot more than ten million today. Let’s work it out, shall we? What would he have owed if he’d paid us on day twenty-two?”
“Two million.”
“Day twenty-three?”
“Four million.”
“Day twenty-four?”
“Eight million.”
“Day twenty-five?”
“Sixteen million. Look, do we really have to do this?”
“Humor me, Ned, humor me. Today, day twenty-six?”
“Thirty-two million.” Then it hits him. “Wow, that’s a lot of money. Are you really asking him for thirty-two million pounds?”
“No, Ned, we’re not.”
“Thank God for that. I mean, my father’s rich but—”
“You misunderstand me. He’s not paying us today, so he’ll have to pay us more.”
“But—”
“Let’s carry on. And by the way, because you’ve been rounding down, the actual figure your father would owe us today is around—”
“Thirty-three million,” I whisper.
“Thirty-three million. In fact, the exact figure is thirty-three million, five hundred and fifty-four thousand, four hundred and thirty-two pounds. So, let’s carry on. What will your father owe us if he pays us tomorrow?” A pause. “You can just double the millions, if you like.”
“Sixty-six million.” Ned’s voice is sullen now.
“And the next day?”
