Klempner

A voice echoes from outside the room. “Larry, what d’you think you’re doing in there? You really think you have a chance?”

“I might ask you the same question, Baxter.”

“Do you seriously think you can get out of there? You’re covered from all angles in a dead-end corridor. You’ve nowhere to go. Put the gun down and come out with your hands raised.

“Fuck you!”

There is a pause and the sound of movement and muttering, then, “If you don’t drop the weapon then we might have to take alternative action. We have a friend of yours with us. And to be fair, we have the money too.”

James…

A bluff?

Probably not…

“You going to take a look? He’s been missing you…”

And in the background, cursing; another voice I recognise.

Darting forward, then back, I risk a check around the door and down the corridor.

And yes, it’s James, battered and bruised but definitely not out of the game.

He looks fucking furious…

One eye is swollen almost shut, bruised to a shade of blue-crimson, the orb, a ball of blood. His head is raised against the muzzle pushing up at his chin to one side, the knife at his throat to the other. And I think his hands are cuffed behind him.

Standing to one side, Finchby, carrying something…

The money?

No… some kind of box…

More like a fisherman’s tackle box…

His grin is beyond irritating.

the other side of James, Baxter cradles a handgun,

see you, James. I wondered if you’d be joining the

“I’ve had

Jenny’s voice. “Is that him? They have

eyes meet mine then

kill him. You can’t.” She whimpers,

a head is emerging. Bloodied, with a scrape of dark hair plastered over the scalp. She leans forward, trying to see over her distended

looks beaten up,

against Michael, her face contorted. “Don’t let them hurt him. Oh, God. Don’t let

We’re coming in like it or not, and I imagine your little girl in there would prefer

grunt. As I risk a look outside, James is on the ground, Finchby

panic. “What

weapon. Kick it into the corridor. Or we finish him. It’ll

the sentence with another kick. To James’ credit, the only sound

hurt him. Stop them. Oh, God, Father, please

streaming tears. “Jenny, this isn’t

right now anyway. And do you think we can fight our way past gunfire with Jenny and a new-born baby?

For now…

has a point

I don’t have

from outside again. “Throw out the weapon, Klempner. And remember we can

Not quite true…

I’m below the camera…

a quick mental inventory, then toss the gun

outside, Larry.

they shoot me

No… Finchby’s a gloater…

her face screwed up as she groans through another contraction, looks up at me.

finger, “You handle your end of it.” She nods, panting, and I

it’s not Finchby or Baxter who approach me. They stay safely at the far end of the corridor, standing over

man with murder

nods his two heavies towards me. “Search him.

I recognise. Baxter’s sidekick from when he sprang me from the

see you again, Hickman. Just like

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