It was as if he had left his body. He could see himself shrinking in front of his eyes, a tunnel of darkness closing in around the fringes. All focus drawn to a single point. The computer screen.

With a throaty gasp he scrunched his eyes tight, forcing his attention back inside himself. He could feel his mind screaming, racing to escape and spill in every direction. He was dizzy and nauseous. The panic was setting in.

He opened his eyes and looked again at the email in front of him. The single picture it contained making his stomach churn, and his blood freeze. The text accompanying it simply stated.

‘If you want to see her again be at the corner of 5th. 11.30pm. Bring your phone.’

He looked into the terrified eyes of the woman on the screen. His wife, bound and gagged, stared desperately back at him.

11.10pm. He had 20 minutes.

He launched himself out of inaction, swaying as he made his way to the door. He felt drunk with despair and realised he was panting, mouth aimlessly gaping.

The stagger towards 5th was a blur, people crossed the street to avoid him as he lurched his way along the sidewalk. He was barely aware of anyone else, his body on autopilot, his energy focussed solely on keeping the searing panic at bay.

He reached the street corner, trembling. Eyes scanned the darkened streets frantically. No one approached.

His phone buzzed. A text. One sentence.

‘You know what we want, make the call’

He choked back a bitter sob, took a deep breath, and dialled.

Cold sweat soaked through the back of his shirt. Clammy palm clinging the phone to his ear. The phone rang for what felt like eternity. Then a voice.

The call was brief, the voice at the other end was angry, disbelieving.

‘But we’ve worked so hard on this John, you can’t pull support now.’

‘I’m sorry, Andrew’

Obscenities, threats, accusations followed. It was to be expected. But he had no choice. He hung up.

‘It’s done!’ He shouted, voice echoing around the high rise buildings. Silence.

Another buzz.

‘Behind you’

He turned as a nearby car’s lights flashed. Tentatively he approached, dread creeping up his spine, threatening to wash him away completely if he were to let it.

The vehicle was empty, no license plates, unmarked. He felt the dread wave rolling higher.

Buzz.

‘The trunk’

Hands shaking he shuffled around the car and reached for the latch. It opened with a soft click. The trunk rose to reveal his wife. Still bound, gagged and terrified. But very much alive.

He broke down, lifting her out of the trunk and clasping her to him. Body wracked with wrenching sobs.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry’ he whispered, it was all he could say.

He felt another buzz in his pocket. He could barely read the text through his tears.

‘Pleasure doing business with you Senator. We’ll be in touch.’