Whiteout by Ken Follett

this, being so well brought up, but when a man says something’s going to happen, and then it doesn’t, people think he’s a wanker.”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œDon’t even dream of interrupting me.”
    Kit shut up.
    â€œFor another thing, Nigel Buchanan’s no drugged-up schoolboy wanting to rob Woolworth’s in Govan Cross. He’s a legend and, more important than that, he’s connected with some highly respected people in London. When you’re dealing with folk like that, even more you don’t want to look like a wanker.”
    He paused, as if daring Kit to argue. Kit said nothing. How had he got himself involved with these people? He had walked into the wolves’ cave, and now he stood paralyzed, waiting to be torn to pieces.
    â€œAnd for a third thing, you owe me a quarter of a million pounds. No one has ever owed me that much money for so long and still been able to walk without crutches. I trust I’m making myself clear.”
    Kit nodded silently. He was so scared he felt he might throw up.
    â€œSo don’t tell me we have to call it off.” Harry picked up the Sun as if the conversation were over.
    Kit forced himself to speak. “I meant postpone it, not call it off,” he managed. “We can do it another day, when the fuss has died down.”
    Harry did not look up. “Ten a.m. on Christmas Day, Nigel said. And I want my money.”
    â€œThere’s no point in doing it if we’re going to get caught!” Kit said desperately. Harry did not respond. “Everyone can wait a little longer, can’t they?” It was like talking to the wall. “Better late than never.”
    Harry glanced toward the pool and made a beckoning gesture. Daisy must have been keeping an eye on him, for she immediately climbed out of the pool. She did not take off the gloves. She had powerful shoulders and arms. Her shallow breasts hardly moved as she walked. Kit saw that she had a tattoo over one breast and a nipple ring in the other. When she came closer, he realized she was shaved all over. She had a flat belly and lean thighs, and her pubic mound was prominent. Every detail was visible, not just to Kit but to her father, if he cared to look. Kit felt weird.
    Harry did not seem to notice. “Kit wants us to wait for our money, Daisy.” He stood up and tightened the belt of his robe. “Explain to himhow we feel about that—I’m too tired.” He put the newspaper under his arm and walked away.
    Daisy grabbed Kit by the lapels of his best suit. “Look,” he pleaded. “I just want to make sure this doesn’t end in disaster for all of us.” Then Daisy jerked him sideways. He lost his balance and would have fallen to the ground, but she took his weight; then she threw him into the pool.
    It was a shock but, if the worst thing she did was ruin his suit, he would count himself lucky. Then, as he got his head above the surface, she jumped on him, her knees smashing into his back painfully, so that he cried out and swallowed water as his head went under.
    They were at the shallow end. When his feet touched the bottom he struggled to stand upright, but his head was clamped by Daisy’s arm, and he was pulled off balance again. She held him face down under the water.
    He held his breath, expecting her to punch him, or something, but she remained still. Needing to breathe, he began to struggle, trying to break her hold, but she was too strong. He became angry, and lashed out feebly with his arms and legs. He felt like a child in a tantrum, flailing helplessly in the grip of its mother.
    His need for air became desperate, and he fought down panic as he resisted the urge to open his mouth and gasp. He realized that Daisy had his head under her left arm and was down on one knee with her own head just above the surface. He made himself still, so that his feet floated down. Perhaps she would think he had lost