Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chapter 17

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…

he does.” Klempner jerks his chin to James, currently lounging against a wall, arms and ankles crossed. “I'll admit, I'm

and shaking.

you planned to

is everything…” It’s Mitch. Her words stall

him in the face. The

across, seizing her by an arm, propelling her back towards the door. “Mitch,

resists. “I

do with your life, but I can tell you what you're not doing. And you're not staying here. Not for

between me and James. “Larry, I do

to Finchby, then scratches him under the chin with a finger.

the cheek, then she sashays out of the door, throwing

her with his eyes, then

one of the chairs, then head for the cooler. Speaking loudly, “Want a beer, Larry? Or

feet, ankles crossed, up

of bags,

“Whatever you’re opening.”

stack everything onto

where he is opening up his box,

beside James’ ‘work area’,

the harsh lighting. One by one, he inspects the edges, testing them

James, then take my seat next to Klempner, knocking back a glug of beer. Then I toss back a handful of

Well cared for, I can

up to the light, inspecting the serrated blade. “That's because these are my

with the bottle in my hand, waving

although I've not

turn back to Klempner, keeping my voice loud. “You know, forget these Japanese chefs. James here makes the best sushi. That knife he's

“Tuna.”

an inch thick when he started, but you know he sliced it so fine.

James turns to the violently trembling Finchby, the sushi knife held, apparently casually, between his fingers. “So,

In a low voice, “Your building is a write-off. And the police will be all over it now. So, where's

he ran. Maybe he’s just dumped

takes his seat again. “All yours,

knife on the table then chooses another. Not one of his ‘specials’, this one is

button pops off and he moves

please. I don't know where he

better than that. And if you really don’t know where we can find him, well… what use

inside sleeve of one arm, then the other. A slash across the shoulders and the shirt falls apart, so

pauses, knife in hand, looks

memory coming

“Larry, I don't know.”

He waves

Face impassive, standing square on, he sets the point to the

“No!”

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

very, very slowly… he draws the blade downward, scoring

breastbone and stopping at the navel. A thin trickle of blood dribbles down through scattered body hair

too fine, to really hurt, but

to say?” asks

know.

you, Finchby.” Klempner waves his bottle

“Nope. Carry on, James.”

screaming, panicking, shuddering man. “I told you. Don't move.” He meets my eye, holding it for a second then,

Finchby, following the line of the

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255