Dead Tomorrow

52

On the flat screen high on the wall, a short distance in front of her desk, Lynn read the words in large gold letters: COLLECTOR BONUSES TOP TEN.

Below was a list of names. The top was currently Andy O’Connor, on a rival team, the Silver Sharks. The screen informed her that Andy had collected a total of £9,987 in cash this week, so far. His accumulated bonus, if he maintained this position, was £871.

God, how she could do with that!

She looked enviously at the other nine names beneath his. The bottom was her friend and team-mate Katie Beale, at £3,337.

Lynn was way off the scale. But one sizeable client had just agreed to a plan. He would make a lump sum payment of £500 and a regular £50 a month, to pay off a MasterCard debt of £4,769. But that £500 – assuming it did come in – would only bring her weekly total to £1,650. Leaving her with an almost impossibly long way to go.

But perhaps she could stay late tonight and catch up on her hours. Luke had come over to see Caitlin after they’d got back from the hospital this morning, so at least she would have company. But she did not want to be away from her for too long.

Suddenly an email pinged on to her screen. It was from Liv Thomas, her team manager, asking her to have another try with one of her least favourite clients.

Lynn groaned inwardly. A golden rule of the company was that you never actually met with your clients, as they were called. Nor did you ever tell them anything about yourself. But she always had a mental picture in her head of everyone she spoke to. And the image she had in her head of Reg Okuma was of a cross between Robert Mugabe and Hannibal Lecter.

He had run up a bill of £37,870 on a personal loan from the Bradford Credit Bank, putting him up among the largest debtors on their client list – the highest topping out at a whopping £48,906.

A few weeks ago she had given up on ever recovering a penny from Okuma, and had passed his debt over to the litigation department. On the other hand, she thought, if she did get a result, then it could be fantastic and would propel her into contention for this week’s bonus.

She dialled his number.

It was answered by his deep, resonant voice on the first ring.

‘Mr Okuma?’ she said.

‘Well, this sounds like my good friend Lynn Beckett from Denarii, if I am not mistaken.’

‘That’s right, Mr Okuma,’ she said.

‘And what can I do for you on this fine day?’

It may be fine inside your head, Lynn thought, but it’s pissing with rain inside my head and outside my window. Following her long-used training script, she said, ‘I thought it might be a good idea to discuss a new approach to your debt, so that we can avoid all that messy litigation business.’

His voice exuded confidence and oily charm. ‘You are thinking of my welfare, Lynn, would that be right?’

‘I’m thinking of your future,’ she said.

‘I’m thinking of your naked body,’ he replied.

‘I wouldn’t think about that too hard, if I were you.’

‘Just thinking about you makes me hard.’

Lynn was silent for a moment, cursing for falling into that one. ‘I’d like to suggest a payment plan for you. What exactly do you think you could afford to pay off on either a weekly or a monthly basis?’

‘Why don’t we meet, you and I? Have a little tête-à-tête?’

‘If you would like to meet someone from the company I can arrange that.’

‘I have a great dick, you know? I’d like to show it to you.’

‘I will certainly tell my colleagues.’

‘Are they as pretty as you?’

The words sent a shiver rippling through her.

‘Do your colleagues have long brown hair? Do they have a daughter who needs a liver transplant?’

Lynn cut the call off in terror. How the hell did he know?

Moments later her mobile rang. She answered it instantly, spitting out the word, ‘Yes?’ convinced it was Reg Okuma, who had somehow got hold of her private number.

But it was Caitlin. She sounded terrible.