Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Michael

The Ahhh marches across Klempner's face.

Footsteps sound outside, drawing closer and James re-enters.

In a few minutes, he’s changed. From the winter woollens, heavy jeans and boots he was wearing before, he changed into a fresh shirt, suit and polished shoes. His face is clean, barring the swollen eye, and he’s combed his hair. And under one arm, he’s carrying a wooden box. For a second, I can’t think what it is. Then I realise…

To me, this is just my old friend James.

But what will Finchby see?

He flashes a glance at the still unconscious man. “How long before he wakes up?”

Klempner rocks a hand. “I didn’t give him much. Anytime now. Within the next few minutes certainly.”

“Good. Michael…” He snaps fingers towards the cooler. “Ice bucket.” Then he aims a finger towards the table behind our dangling houseguest.

And now I know what he has in mind.

I grin. “My pleasure.”

Klempner, obviously bemused, watches in silence as I scoop ice into the bucket and add water. I place it on the table and James drops in his toys into the chinking mix.

A groan…

Finchby stirs. “What…?”

I eye-point Klempner to a chair. He’s sucking in a smile as he takes his place in the ‘viewing gallery’.

“What’s going on?” Finchby’s eyes blink open, hazy and unfocussed, then his face sharpens as realisation penetrates. His eyes fling wide, showing the whites. “Christ…” Struggling against the restraints, he writhes and twists. But he’s going nowhere.

His eyes settle on Klempner. “Hey… Larry…” He tries for a cheesy grin but fails.

Is he going to piss himself?

Klempner smiles pleasantly. “Afternoon, Finchby. Good to see you’re back with us. Comfortable?”

The man is pasty, his breath short and quick. “Hey, Larry, what are you playing at? It wasn't personal. It was business. You know how it is.”

Klempner lifts his chin, eyes narrowing. Standing, he stalks a few paces to stand by Finchby, speaking to the side of his face.

“Yes, I do know how it is. And for coming after me, I'd have simply slit your throat and called it evens…”

Finchby’s breathing shudders…

“… But it stopped being business the moment you took my daughter and chained her up in your dungeon of a cell. You imprisoned her in conditions calculated to make her sick and to risk her child. You made it your business to demean and humiliate her…”

He draws breath. Any trace of compassion slides from his expression. For the first time, the fury shows. His voice morphs to a hiss.

“… And you planned to sell my granddaughter for parts? This stopped being business some while ago, Finchby. This is very definitely personal.”

Finchby hangs, lungs jerking and juddering. He blinks rapidly, moisture gleaming at the corners of his eyes.

He tries to speak, his throat working, then tries again. “What are you going to do, Larry?”

Abruptly, Klempner’s pleasant expression pastes back into place. “Nothing. Nothing at all…”

Finchby pants, quick shallow breaths, eyes darting here and there…

his chin to James, currently lounging against a wall, arms and ankles crossed. “I'll admit, I'm quite

and shaking. “Oh, God…

his ear. “You kidnapped his pregnant wife. Tortured her. Humiliated her. Intended to use her. And you planned to sell his daughter for organs. Call me a sceptic, Finchby, but it’s my guess he doesn’t like

It’s Mitch.

close, very close; staring him in the face. The vein at her neck throbs. “What are you going to

an arm, propelling her back towards the door.

resists. “I want to

not doing. And you're not staying here. Not for this. I'll

between me and James. “Larry, I do believe these two are

a finger. “You won't wake the baby, will you. I've just got her to

pat on the cheek, then she sashays out of the door, throwing a comment back over

her with his eyes, then

for the cooler. Speaking loudly, “Want a beer, Larry? Or there's wine

his feet, ankles crossed, up on the table. “Beer's good for

a couple of bags,

“Whatever you’re opening.”

choose?” I rip both bags, tipping the contents into a couple of bowls, then stack everything onto a tray. “James? A beer? I

up from where he is opening up his box, “Thank you, Michael, yes.

set the tray on the table beside James’ ‘work area’, passing around the bottles and the

harsh lighting. One by one, he inspects the edges, testing them with his thumb. He chooses one, but apparently unsatisfied, takes a steel from its slot, drawing the blade along,

it on the table by James, then take my seat next to Klempner, knocking back a

wicked-looking set of knives, James. Well cared for, I can see. But they look a little delicate for heavy

light, inspecting the serrated blade. “That's because these are my sushi knives. I brought them

the bottle in my hand, waving it in the air as I speak. “You like sushi,

I've not had any for

know, forget these Japanese chefs. James here makes the best sushi. That

“Tuna.”

been more than an inch thick when he started, but you

knife held, apparently casually, between his fingers. “So, Klempner, what exactly did you want

to Finchby. In a low voice, “Your building is a write-off. And the police will be all over it

Maybe he’s just dumped me. Like he accused you of doing. He's done it himself to me. But I don’t know where he’d

and takes

knife on the table then chooses

then slices. The button pops off and he moves down to the next. One at a time, he removes

I don't know where

know where we can find him, well… what use are you to us? I don’t see either of

saws his way up the inside sleeve of one arm, then the other. A slash across the shoulders and the shirt falls apart, so much waste fabric.

knife in hand,

memory coming

“Larry, I don't know.”

waves in a

original. Face impassive, standing square on, he sets the point

“No!”

still. Don't move. You wouldn't want to

slowly… very, very slowly… he

the breastbone and stopping at the navel. A thin trickle

knife is too sharp, the cut too fine, to really hurt, but Finchby

to say?” asks

don't know. I

his

“Nope. Carry on, James.”

moves behind the screaming, panicking, shuddering man. “I told you. Don't move.” He meets my eye, holding

following the