Chapter 70

Crying himself to sleep, David had had a fitful night. He had been aware of the breathing of his two companions within the dark cellar room and had been unable to move from his spot by the door. He was rooted in position and had been, since arriving in the early hours of the morning, still dressed in his black tie from the ball the previous evening.

David truly was a sorry sight. He appeared to be empathising with the two captives. Their forms were dimly outlined against the wall, sleeping underneath their respective grey blankets on the two old bed frames across from David. If he had been able, he would have been sorely tempted to release his prisoners from their shackles, attached to each of the bed frames. But he was unable, and had to focus his attention to the money. Yes, the money, keep thinking about the money, he told himself; what he could do with it; how it would change his life; all the ways the money would benefit him and change his future. Taking care of these captives would feel like a slight hiccup in the overall scheme of things; a trial to test him. Come on David, if you cannot cope with this simple situation then do you really deserve all of those extra notes?

But was it worthwhile? What good was all this if he had lost the love of his life? What really was the love of his life? The girl? The money? The buzz of the adrenalin in doing a deal? His head ached from all of the different thoughts going around like a whirlwind.

What did he want? Where was he going to be in ten years? Well, forget that, how about in two or three years? No, it was not possible to think that far ahead. Let’s be realistic. How about a half year tops, yes, a half year? David focused on the next six months of his life. He was dreaming of a beautiful motor yacht somewhere warm. The Caribbean would do, yes the Caribbean. He was surrounded by friends, some lovely ladies and a wonderful, beautiful, giggling girl with slightly curly hair, right by his side. She was laughing at the joke that he had just told. His humour had always been good. It reeled her in. Let’s finish the wine, David was saying to the gorgeous and sexy and curvy lady, and then go for a dip in the sea. Her body language indicated that she could not wait. There was a loud rattle of the anchor chain, but it was not in David’s dream. It was the here and now. Oh no, thought David, crushed again, back to reality. The reality of this pit of a hole that was once a cellar. The teenage daughter had just turned over and it had caused her ankle chain to rattle. David sighed; he would get out of this. He was not the type to give up. People had adored his company for his humour and companionship but, with money as well, he would be laughing.