Excerpt of Venom by Joan Brady

Chapter 1 SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS

'David?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know who this is?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Get out. Now.’

There was a slight pause. David looked into the living
room. The pale cotton curtains were closed across the
patio doors; a light wind billowed them out towards him.

‘How many guys are there?’

‘One.’

‘Who?’

‘He’s a professional, David.’

‘Size? Build?’

‘For God’s sake, what does it matter? Just get out. Right
now.’

David Marion snapped his mobile shut. When it had rung,
he’d been in the kitchen of his house, folding sheets with
the military precision that comes from years as a convicted
man in a prison laundry. His cupboards showed the same
influence: a couple of cans each of peaches, Heinz
spaghetti, baked beans, spam, an aerosol of Reddi-wip. He
shook out a pillowcase, tossed this whole store into it –
except for the Reddi-wip – carried it to the entrance
hall, set it beside the door and went back to the living
room.

It was the end of March, an unexpectedly warm night in the Midwest; people had windows open all along the close where he lived. He shut the patio doors behind his curtains. Then he turned on the TV, lit a cigarette and sat down to wait.

But David was hardly a man at ease watching a TV quiz; he still had the Reddi-wip clutched in his hand when he heard a gentle knock. He balanced his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and went into the entrance hall.

‘What do you want?’ he said irritably through the front door.

‘I’m really sorry to disturb you’ – the voice was
frightened, wavery, old – ‘but I saw your light. My wife—’

‘I’m busy.’

‘I got to get her to emergency. You got to help me.’

‘Call an ambulance.’

‘Oh, come on, mister. Please help us. Please.’ David sighed, more irritably than before. ‘Give me a minute.’ He turned the key in the lock and leaned against the door while he slid back the bolt. The abrupt pressure from the other side was all he needed to know. He yanked the door open...