Michael

Mitch drives home. I’m exhausted. James and Klempner don’t look much different. From the back, it sounds as though Finchby has woken up. If he were still out, I don’t think he’d be squealing like a stuck pig.

After a while, Klempner speaks. “I need a little chat with Finchby there. Where would you like me to conduct his interview?”

There’s a thump from the trunk and he looks back then to Mitch. “It needs to be somewhere the women won’t hear. Is there one of your outbuildings I can use perhaps?”

Mitch glances sidelong. “Don’t worry about upsetting me. I’ll hold your coat.”

James, his expression savage, breaks in before I can reply. “We can do better than that.”

“Where?”

“Downstairs.”

It takes a moment for James’ meaning to sink in. “Downstairs? You mean…?”

“Yes. That’s what I mean.”

As we crunch onto the drive, Klempner produces another of the phial and syringe sets, pursing his lips as he draws the drug into the chamber, then tapping it. “James, Michael. Open the trunk and I’ll get him quiet again before we take him through your home.”

The trunk clicks open and the needle plunges into Finchby’s arm. The tape-masked shriek dies in his throat and…

“Give me a second,” I say. “Richard hinted he’d been up to something last night. Let me go see what’s happening.”

It’s as well I did. A blue-uniformed nurse is in the hall, discussing something on a clipboard with Richard. As he sees me, he steps smartly forward… “Ah… Michael…” He cups my elbow, easing me out of the door again. “Is everyone…?”

The question dies on his lips. “James. Klempner. I’m pleased to see you.” His gaze lingers on James damaged eyes, the slash, leaking red, on Klempner’s chest, then moves to the bound and unconscious Finchby. “Is that one of them?”

“Yes…” James heaves breath, then. “He was planning on prostituting Charlotte and selling Cara for organs. We need to ask him about where to find the other one. We’re taking him downstairs.”

Richard inhales. “You’d better bring him in around the back. We have a houseful here.”

Klempner reacts. “Police?”

“No. Medics. Doctors. Nurses. For both Charlotte and Elizabeth…. I… I had an eventful night too.”

“Is everything alright? Charlotte?”

“Yes, she’s fine. I’ll tell you later. Right now, she’s sleeping and I’d say likely to stay that way for some while yet. I have a nurse watching her and Cara while she sleeps herself out.” He glances back to the door, holding up a palm. “Give me two minutes to clear the hall, then come in through the back. Go straight down.”

inside. “Ah, Doctor Polinski. Could I have a word,

see Jenny and the baby.” And

him and we heft Finchby around the side of the house, in and

*****

Klempner

him down the cellar steps and along a basement passageway, rooms off to either side. “I’d not realised it was such a large place you

James opens the door ahead

at the shoulders, says, “You sure

Can you think

fuck’s

I don’t want her

“Suits me.”

heft the unconscious Finchby through the

Fuck me…

Don’t show surprise…

meets my eye. So does James. His mouth quirks and he drops

It’s a torture chamber.

at

Of course it isn’t…

first impression is a blur of manacles, racks, whips and chains; stone walls,

containing wine and beer, and a huge bed at the far end of the

but of a very

relationship my Jenny

Until now.

Keep your cool…

Michael halts. “Where?”

will do for a start. Take his

is a chain, suspended from the ceiling a kind of winch and pulley arrangement. While Michael and I manhandle the unconscious Finchby into position, James takes something from a shelf; a steel bar, extendable, with leather, fur-lined wrist-cuffs

he says, rummaging through a drawer, emerging with a second set of cuffs; these the real McCoy

clips a

arms over his head,

inspects our catch. “That do for you,

I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to seeing his expression

creases his eyes. “I’d had the same thought myself. Excuse me a moment.” He makes for the door, pauses and turns. “Michael, set up a table where Finchby can see it. And another one behind him where he can’t.” He turns back and leaves the room, the sound of footsteps

taps me on the arm. “Give me a

carry a small table, placing it as James asked, squarely in front of Finchby. Then another behind him. Michael stalls, pondering, then shifts the front table off to the side a little and

What the fuck?

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