“What is this?”
“He fell in front of a train last night.”
“What?”
The young man reached into his pocket again before leaning forward and taking back his phone. He left a folded piece of paper in front of me.
“Check it yourself. Talk to your ex, if you like. This is real. It’s happening. And now you owe us a favour.”
“Kak.”
I didn’t know many Afrikaans words, but that was one of my favourites.
The young man stood up and moved towards the door. “The person who lives at that address.” He pointed at the paper on my desk. “Needs to have an unfortunate accident tonight at 7pm.”
I stood up. Took a step back from the paper that threatened from the desk.
“Wait a minute. What? I never agreed to this.”
He shook his head, laughing quietly. But not at me.
“That’s how it works. They pull you in. Get you involved. Then you belong to them.”
Now I was the one to shake my head. “No.”
He opened the door. “I’m just the messenger. I make contact. I deliver the instructions. Because if I don’t…” He stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door open. “Remember this. They know everything about you.”
“New client?”
“What?”
Jenny stood in the doorway, shaking her blonde curls. “Honestly, you guys get so caught up in your financial schemes, I sometimes wonder how you make it through the day.”
I nodded, mind still spinning.
“I need to leave early today. Got something I need to take care of. Is that alright?”
I nodded again. “Yes. Yes, of course. No problem.”
My eyes returned to the folded paper on my desk.
“In fact, I might leave early myself. So I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She smiled. “About time you got out the office. Catch you tomorrow.”
I nodded again. As Jenny closed the door, I picked up the piece of paper.

Latest in a series of emails sent to me by an old Valhalla drinking buddy. He couldn’t post them himself, for reasons that will become obvious over time. I’m publishing them here at his request, as I received them.

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