Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (top 100 novels of all time TXT) 📕

worked it out yet? I pressed play. Colour drained from her painted face as she stepped forward, squinting, and her bottom lip started moving. Small quivers turned to tremors, as I turned the volume up as loud as it would go.

‘Dear Lord.’ Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she mumbled more words I couldn’t make out.

‘Take your hand away from your mouth, so I can properly understand what you’ve got to say for yourself. There’s a good girl,’ I said like a headmaster to a child. Was I having fun or what? ‘What do you think Pete and Alisha will have to say to all this?’

She stood there in defiance. Or was it denial? One of the two. I picked up the phone and held it closer to her so she could get a better look. Wouldn’t want her to miss anything.

‘What do you want, Luke?’ she asked, her breathing laboured.

I dug out the scrap of paper I’d prepared earlier and handed it over to her. ‘Ten thousand pounds into this account by nine o’clock or this little montage goes to your husband and your lover’s wife.’ I nodded at the screen. ‘And all the loyal dog owners who use your services.’ I gave her the biggest smile my lips would form. ‘Have a nice day, Penelope,’ I finished, before strolling towards the door.

She hurled herself after me, screaming high-pitched like something out of the wild. ‘You won’t get away with it!’

‘Won’t I?’ I waved the phone at her. ‘Oh, and if you try any funny games, this will upload to all the contacts on your phone as well.’ It wouldn’t, but she’d not know that.

She held her hands together, the tips of her fingers touching her lips as her tacky façade began to crumble. ‘Please, Luke.’

‘It’ll be fine. Calm down. Transfer the funds, and I’ll delete this.’ Oh, the satisfaction in using a derogatory tone. It wasn’t as much fun as when I faced Robbins and Chelsea, but I was still enjoying myself. Immensely.

‘How do I know you will?’

I scrunched my features into my hurtful face and traced a fake tear from my eye to my jaw. ‘Oh, Penelope. Come on. Honestly, do I look like the kind of guy to play silly games? I’ve been pretty straightforward and fair with you, don’t you think? I mean, I’ve given you every chance to stop me exposing your grubby little secret to all your friends and family, have I not?’ I swung out my arm and swept it around the room. ‘Not to mention all your clients.’ I opened the door and stepped outside. ‘Nine o’clock, don’t forget. And that’s nine o’clock tonight, to be clear,’ I said, waving. ‘Cheerio, for now.’

‘You’ll pay for this, Luke Walker. You won’t get away with it.’

I stifled my laughter all the way to the road. It was only fifty metres or so, but it felt like heaps longer. When I was out of view, I let it out – a hearty roar of satisfaction which jiggled my shoulders the entire walk to the Tube.

The second part of my plan for the day was yet to be executed so, once in the station, I regained control. Luckily, a train pulled in straight away. I positioned myself at the end of the carriage where the door met that of the adjoining one. Steadying myself with the handrail, I closed my eyes and ran through the next stage. This one was going to be trickier. But being such a tenacious individual, I’m a firm believer that nothing is insurmountable.

The journey was straightforward – only twelve stops and zero changes. I skipped off at Goodge Street, my head swimming with the spiel I was about to drown Pete Price with. His firm dominates the top two floors of a building above an ostentatious retail outlet for the older man. The kind of place where Pete kits himself out with handmade suits and expensive shirts. I’d done my homework. The exclusive global brokerage firm he now works for specialises in over-the-counter derivatives in the commodities market. So, he’s still a trader at the end of the day. Like Mr Patel, who owns the small, indie supermarket on Balham Hill. Both of them selling coffee or electricity, but on differing scales.

I wanted to keep things simple. There was no benefit whatsoever in causing any commotion. Not at this stage. So, in accordance with my intricate plans, as soon as I was sitting in the café opposite his work, and had ordered an Americano, I called him.

‘What can I do for you, Luke?’ he asked before giving me the chance to say hello. ‘Looking for a job now you’ve finished school? I knew you’d come around in the end.’

Such arrogance. So unattractive. ‘Kind of. Well, it’s more like payment than a job. I’m in Café Bacoli now, opposite your work. I need to speak to you as a matter of urgency. Get here, now.’

I felt and heard him shuffle uncomfortably in his seat. Now that was fun. He tried to argue with me. The man tried to argue with me. Who did he think he was? Actually, it was more of a negotiation. Spilling the names of a couple of nearby pubs, he told me to make myself comfortable with a pint, and he would join me within the hour.

‘Not possible, Pete. You need to come now.’

‘I can’t leave work at the moment.’

‘Oh, yes you can, because I’m telling you. You don’t want me coming over there because you’ll find yourself leaving and never going back. I’ll see you in five minutes.’

He got it at that point. ‘What is going…?’

I stabbed the red cross on my screen. There was no point in prolonging the situation. I’m not that evil.

He arrived out of breath with a flushed face and an uneasy smile. I felt sorry for him for a second. But only a nano one. He pulled out a stool opposite me and climbed onto it. Was that a