Hot Revenge Box Set 2

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.”

“Ah, Doctor Polinski. Could I have a

going to go see Jenny and the baby.” And

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

*****

Klempner

basement passageway, rooms off to either side. “I’d not

is it.” James opens the

Finchby at the shoulders, says, “You sure about

Can you think

fuck’s sake, don’t ever tell

I don’t want her

“Suits me.”

us, Michael and I heft the unconscious Finchby through the door

Fuck me…

Don’t show surprise…

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

It’s a torture chamber.

at

Of course it isn’t…

and chains; stone walls, a vaulted roof,

in a hearth, the ashes cold; a glass-fronted cooler containing wine and beer, and a huge bed at the

of a very particular

of relationship my

Until now.

Keep your cool…

Michael halts. “Where?”

will do for a start. Take his waistcoat

Michael and I manhandle the unconscious Finchby into

rummaging through a drawer, emerging with a second set of cuffs; these the real McCoy in steel. He fiddles with the bar for a moment, replacing play-cuffs with

and I restrain Finchby while James snaps the cuffs around his wrists, then clips a carabiner between bar and

arms over his

inspects our catch. “That do for

looking forward to

“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

taps me on the arm. “Give me a hand with

of Finchby. Then another behind him. Michael stalls, pondering, then shifts the front table

What the fuck?