Guy Fawkes Day

by KJ Griffin

  ***

  Folly Bridge, Oxford: 10:00 p.m.

  Sophie was working at her desk when her mobile rang.

  ‘Oh, hello Omar,’ she muttered grumpily. She had been trying to keep him from her mind.

  ‘Good evening, Sophie, and sorry to bother you at this hour. I wanted to tell you that there are some papers for you to sign. Can you arrange to see Hasan tomorrow? He will tell you what you must do. I’m sure it will not take long.’

  ‘Oh. Yes…I suppose so.’ She was hesitant. Yet again, she felt she was walking blindly into some sort of trap, but the more she thought about reneging on the deal, the more she felt drawn by some ineffable and arcane power. It was no longer just the lure of fabulous wealth that was propelling her at breakneck speak into the very heart of Omar’s lair. She had been consumed by the mystery of everything about him, and the thought of returning to the safety of her former mundane little world was no longer a possibility.

  As if he could read her thoughts from the other end of the phone, he pressed his advantage home.

  ‘And while we are making arrangements, how about fixing a date for our first ‘duty night’, as you so eloquently put it! How about after the dinner party tomorrow evening? After that I may be away for a while on business. Would this coming Wednesday night be convenient for you?’

  The immensity of what she was about to agree to reduced her assent to the merest murmur.

  ‘Good,’ he continued as if they had just settled on a date for a business lunch, ‘Hasan will call you in the morning and we will meet again on Wednesday.’

  She couldn’t remember afterwards if she had even said goodbye, for no sooner had Omar had rung off than one huge complication dug its accipitral talons into her conscience: Marcus would be at the party on Wednesday too.