Forty eight hours, Jon had said. I’ll give you forty eight hours and then, but he hadn’t said what and Joshua knew he couldn’t do it. Always been weak, Jon, ever since they were kids. Weak and jealous.
It had played out like some version of Jon’s wet dream, being an American gangster, threatening his victim. Joshua had played it through in his head as he trudged over to the hotel, keen to just get this over with and done. Jon – Mr. Steele says you can have forty eight hours, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Joshua – You in charge now, big man? Jon – you’re not making this any easier for yourself. Joshua – Just give me the time, Jon. Just crawl back into your hiding space and I’ll sort this. Jon – like you said last time. Took us a while track you down. Joshua – Well you should get better at your job then. Jon – How the hell are you going to raise that sort of cash in forty eight hours? Joshua – that’s not your concern
and so on. Joshua didn’t care about Jon, except maybe about his irritating smugness, thinking he was in control for a change. He didn’t care about Dark Angel either, the so-called legendary enforcer who he heard had come over to join the chase. There was only one person he cared about and only one way to get out of this.