Klempner

Although I can hear chaos from down the stairs, up here now, it’s quiet. There’s no-one in the dance room.

In the pool room, the only sound is the crunching of glass under my boots. I carry on to Finchby’s office.

All empty?

It seems so.

The time?

Time to go.

Except… as I’m about to turn and leave a girl, I see her; barely a teenager, some variety of Asian, Indian perhaps. Streaming tears, she skitters out from behind the desk, making for the kitchen.

I follow her and she cringes back into the corner. I offer my hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You have to leave.”

She babbles at me in I’ve-no-idea-what language, then abruptly, her face swings up to mine and fingers outstretched, leaps up at me, clawing at my face. Reflexively, I jerk back, and she bolts past me and out, back the way I came.

Fuck!

I dash after her, but in the few seconds, she’s gone, vanished.

Where did she go?

Out?

Or somewhere deeper inside?

I check my watch… Three minutes…

Christ!

I have to find her… If she’s on the stairwell, perhaps I’ll hear her. I turn for the bar, heading for the stairs up and down, and there…

Fuck.

Baxter.

I reach for my Glock… And it’s not there.

Damn… When did I put it down?

Baxter flashes brows. And the knife in his hand. “Going somewhere?”

“I was planning on leaving.” I slip the knife from my belt. “Your friend Finchby has already left the building. I believe the money may be with him.”

“I’m not going to weep over Finchby. And I didn't do it for the cash. Well… mainly not for the cash. And I have my half anyway.”

We circle, eyeball to eyeball.

Make the first move?

Wait for him?

I move slowly, watching for the twitch of the hand. The nudge of the shoulder. The tell that he's going to stop talking and...

He slashes out… moves fast…

But it’s a feint and we both know it, calculated to draw a reaction from me.

Testing me…

My speed…

My reactions…

Younger than me...

How much by?

Ten years?

His knife...

inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

right-handers. I've

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple.

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he

forward, reaching

my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

I’m not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between

my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on top

as his blade slices across

The rasp of

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment,

he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my

use

got the balls

I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

I’m staring straight up the barrel of my

Is this it?

this is how I

have died over the years, I’m

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The

don’t think

of the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes

My throat tightens…

The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against

know

to its owner.

skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest

white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted Goth-dark and fuck-me

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all her

seen her dressed like this, not even in her

a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

zipper tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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