"Shut up." The voice wasn't having any of it. "No more excuses. You have twenty-four hours to deliver my money. All of it. And I want it in gold."

Gold. In twenty-four hours. Maybe if I tried threatening him. "Greg, I can make life difficult for you. You'll never get published again if I spread the wrong word around."

Bad move. A long, hostile hiss whispered over the receiver. "If you want to talk difficult, I can easily surpass your puny threats, McKenzie. Twenty-four hours. After that, I'd make sure I was wearing something fireproof, not that it'll save you. And by the way, the name's Greganrian. Use it properly in the time you have left." A harsh click resounded and the line went dead.

I put down my own phone slowly, mind numb. Twenty-four hours wouldn't normally be a problem, even given the demand for payment in gold (which I should have expected). It was a problem, though, because I didn't have Greganrian's money, nor any way of raising the amount I needed. Technically, I'd never done anything illegal, given that the stuff had been sold in my name and I'd never signed a contract, but Greganrian was unlikely to be dissuaded by legal technicalities. I considered calling the police for protection, but dismissed that thought immediately. They'd just lock me up, probably, and Greganrian wouldn't have to chase me down: he'd simply fry me in my padded cell.