The call was an unwelcome surprise, triggering a frantic panic that made him feel as though the walls were closing in on him. The phone buzzed against his chest, insistent, and he pawed for it as though it was a burning coal.
He hit the answer button, clamped it to his ear, a thousand thoughts tumbling through his mind. ‘H-hello?’
‘Good afternoon.’ The same voice, formal, businesslike, as though the devil himself had started making insurance calls. ‘I take it you’ve seen the latest news.’
‘Ah, yes. I have. But why are you calling? Is there a problem with the payment or—’
‘No, the payment was fine. But I wanted to tell you there’s been a slight change of plan.’
Another stab of panic, the phone growing heavy in his hand. ‘What? What change of plan? I thought we agreed.’
‘We did. But then I started thinking. While there’s no risk of exposure, it couldn’t hurt to muddy the waters a little.’
He felt as though the world was tilting, the floor threatening to fall away beneath him. ‘W-what do you mean?’
A glint of humour, jagged and cruel, coloured the normally businesslike tone. ‘You’ll see soon enough. Just keep watching the news. Stick to your routine, keep your head down. And, trust me, you’ll like this. It’ll really give you something to talk about.’
The line went dead and he stared at the phone. His gorge rose, his stomach giving a watery lurch. He swallowed, forced himself to breathe, then smoothed down his tie with a hand that was almost steady. He reached for the door to ask Margaret to arrange his next appointment.
The caller was right. He had no option but to go on as normal, keep up the lie he had been living for so long. He would see what was planned soon enough. And when it happened, when he had ‘something to talk about’, he would do what he always did.
He would adapt. And survive.