‘Send me the GPS coordinates. One of my men will do it for you.’
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My hands were shaking. Control yourself.
Control yourself‘I’ve not long left the site. I’ll go back and do as you ask.’
‘Good.’ My father hung up.
I called Steven, said I was coming back, would be there in thirty minutes, and I’d explain when I got there.
Before I turned the car around I used Google to find out what makes convincing fake blood. The easiest was ketchup and water. I’d have to stop at the supermarket on the way back. I dismissed using tomato sauce instead of ketchup because I knew it was runnier.
Steven sat at the table at the far end of the van. He was biting his lower lip, tapping his foot on the base of the seat, and turning the phone I gave him over and over in his hands.
