Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chapter 4

*****

 

Michael

Removing two dozen slates makes a gap comfortably big enough to take a man and incidentally exposes the timbers. There’s no question of how to anchor the rope this time.

“You realise we’re probably invalidating Finchby’s building insurance.”

Klempner whistles in. “What a shame.” We peer down into Stygian darkness. “How far down you think? Twenty-five… Thirty feet?”

“It can’t be more than that if the windows outside are anything to go by.”

This time on the rope, I'm much more in control.

It’s a straightforward climb down, the rope snagged by hand, thighs and crooked around one foot, and my body mass working for me rather than against, hand over hand, I descend into gloom. As my feet touch floor, the slight noise reverbs with the feel of a large empty space.

Blind-sighted in the darkness, the faint lines of external light seep through eaves.

Almost as I land, the rope shivers in my hand as Klempner also descends, coming at speed and I step smartly to one side as I realise he's all but on top of me.

He lands lightly. “Can't believe it's all going to be this easy.”

The air smells, not exactly stale, but unused. Revolving through three-sixty, the only light is the faintest of gleams, a fine line marking the eaves.

Also from above, a slight rustling…

Roosting birds?

From below, the floor vibrates to the bass thump of overloud music.

“Still got Beethoven’s Fifth Racket playing,” mutters Klempner from the gloom beside me.

“Useful for us though. He’ll not hear us coming with that going on.”

“Too right. I think we can risk a little light.”

With a click, the narrow beam of an LED flashlight cuts through the air, producing a startled flapping from above. To one side of us, the cracked plaster and paint of a wall, the beam painting threads and dots of light over webs and dust. But as the beam swings, it illuminates receding plaster then vanishes into darkness.

“A single open space?”

“It is a warehouse. Or was.”

Klempner gestures with the light. “That way is the front of the building, the main entrance and stairwell.” He swings the beam the opposite way. “So, let's follow the wall that way and see if we can find another stairwell. A place this size must have more than one.”

The torchlight aimed at the floor, we follow the line of the wall, stepping over the remains of ancient birds’ nests and small heaped cones of guano.

Almost immediately we come to a plain timber door; no lock, no complications beyond the weavings of the local spiders over the handle. On the wall beside it, a metal plaque in what might be brass under the patina. 'C-Bay'.

The handle resists turning, but only with the groan of long disuse. And the hinges complain as the door swings slowly open to reveal a small room beyond...

… then stepping through, stairs leading both up and down.

Klempner aims the torch upwards. “Presumably our roof access door is at the top. Wait here. I'll check. If we need to make a fast exit that way, it'll be nice to know what's there.”

He disappears up into shadow, the sound of his booted feet surprising quiet. For a tall man, he walks lightly. From downstairs, the bass thump is louder.

minute, Klempner descends again. “It can be opened from

his weapon, a machine gun. “Keep that axe

ask me to bring the axe? It's not exactly a common

you are with a gun. But I've seen you handle that axe…” His voice turns dry… “… and I know what you did to two of my men with one a couple of years

them after Charlotte. It was December. We had to escape

blinks. “Naked? I didn’t know that.” He slides to a half-smile, looking

might be a

but you’ve come a long

And

“There's irony for you. Let's head

*****

descend two flights then reach a landing; stairs up, stairs

halts in mid-stride, pressing a finger to his lips… “Listen.” He cups an ear, head turning, first one way

murmur of sound… Voices speaking from some distance away, just audible over the thumping of the music,

Klempner aims a long forefinger along the corridor,

axe in hand, ready to swing. “Any

think we’re heading for

there’s likely to be

I’d

office got a

I think. I was never in there, but he’d send someone

turn into a door, abruptly, we must be all

area. The scent of garbage competes with stale tobacco. Flies hum over an overflowing trash can, crawling over a slick brown stain on the lid. The steel of the sink might

of biscuits lies open, spilt crumbs being investigated by bottle-green buzzers. A half-empty jar of coffee is about the cleanest thing in

working as he recoils from

place open?” I mutter. “You'd think the City authorities would

two of the great and good in your pocket

“As you would know.”

unabashed. “Yes. As I would

we entered. The voices are just on the other

“You've done well, Lena…”

question on my face and he mouths

voice whines. “You are going to

I am, Lena. We had

see. After a second, he motions me to

high with papers. A half-full bottle of cheap whiskey sits beside an empty tumbler. An open laptop casts a glow brighter

butt into an overflowing ashtray, extracts a cigarette from a packet then offers one to the pregnant woman sitting opposite. She accepts both cigarette and the offered flame, inhales, blows blue smoke, then

on the video footage,

leans forward, counting out from a wad of notes. “Here you are, Lena. Five thousand, like we agreed. You

Klempner and I

We met when he was driving for Klempner when

Ben…

cheeks then

brought myself to kill my brother. Klempner did what

now, he’s

there, Lena, for the deposit on the rent for a nice place. Get yourself some decent furniture, decorate. Maybe even a

chin lifts. “Got

displays yellow teeth.

shop. Nice

Baxter raises a brow. Finchby notices

going your way now. And all because you did me one

forward. “You got

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