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SAM JAM
9
Chapter One
Nine hours later, 68 and a half kilometres away, a
sensible-looking woman wearing sensible glasses was
eating a crumbly Danish pastry at a desk in a small
bank.
Brrrp-brrrp. Brrrp-brrrp.
She snatched up the ringing phone efficiently with
her left hand while using the other to wipe a napkin
across her mouth. “Hello, Margaret Moon here.”
She heard a low rumble in reply. Either an earthquake
was phoning her—or it was her boss, Mr. Dreck, who
had possibly the lowest voice in the world.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Dreck’s voice growled like
thunder.
The woman sighed. “Hi, boss. Okay, what have I done
now?”
“Hey! Why so suspicious? I was being nice.”
“Because you’re congratulating me, but my only
achievement today has been to kill two cappuccinos, a
Danish and my diet.”
Mr. Dreck laughed, a sound like an all-timpani
orchestra being sucked into a black hole.
“Don’t be so negative, Margaret,” he said. “I have good
news. You are being assigned to be head of banking at
South Abbey Downs. It’s a big town, so it’s a promotion
for you. You deserve congratulations.”
The woman thought for a moment before replying.
“South Abbey Downs? Isn’t Sammi Yeung the bank chief
there? And isn’t that town going broke?”
“Er, yes. But the place is too big for Sammi. We need