Chapter Eleven.

The ringing phone broke Cowley from his thoughts with a start and he grabbed up the handset angrily.

"Yes!" he snapped.

"Now, now Mr. Cowley," a deep voice growled back at him, "I'd be a bit nicer if I were you, after all, I've got something I think you want."

Cowley paused in surprise, gathering himself before replying as calmly as he could,

"I could say the same to you."

The voice chuckled deeply and Cowley narrowed his eyes as he focused, trying hard to distinguish anything familiar or unusual about it.

"Indeed. But then again, I don't think your guest is in the same condition that mine is."

In his analysis of the wording, 'mine' instead of 'ours,' Cowley almost managed to overlook the meaning of the sentence altogether, it's implication suddenly hitting him hard,

"Now you listen to me! If my man is harmed in any way - ,"

"No Mr. Cowley, you listen to me. Paula will be returned. If that is done, then your man will be released. It's simple really, so let's not make it too difficult."

Cowley massaged his brow wearily, weighing up the options of which there weren't many.

"When and where?" he replied finally.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" he repeated incredulously, "But Bodie's sick! He needs - ,"

For the second time in the conversation Cowley found himself cut infuriatingly short.

"Tomorrow morning Mr. Cowley. Nine o'clock. I'll be back in touch with a location."

Then the call ended.

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Next one on its way!!