James

But downstairs in my playroom, Klempner is nowhere to be seen. Neither is he in the laundry, the boiler room or anywhere else.

Finchby has vanished too.

Michael regards the empty spot. Clicking a thumbnail against his teeth. “There’s only one way he could have gotten out.”

“Yes, there is. Michael, Klempner knew the tunnel existed. How long d'you think it would have taken him to find it if he was seriously looking?”

Hissing through his teeth, he marches across to the hidden exit at the far end of the chamber.

A click, the concealed door opens and he vanishes inside.

Re-emerging a minute later. “There’re drag marks where the floor turns to earth. You want to follow them?”

“I don’t think I do. I’m not sure I want to be responsible for whatever happens to Finchby. Besides, I have more immediate things to do.”

“Such as?”

“I have a hard drive to clean up before I deliver it to the police.”

Michael scratches at forty-eight-hour stubble. “I suspect Finchby may not be our problem anymore.”

“I suspect you’re right. Klempner wanted to question him some more. I doubt he’ll survive the experience.”

“And Klempner?”

“He'll be back.”

“You think?”

“Mitch.”

*****

The following evening, the front door opens and Klempner breezes in as if he had not a care in the world.

“James, Michael, sorry to leave you so precipitously. I'm sure you understand why.”

He’s changed, wearing fresh clothes which look new and fit him well; trousers, a roll-top sweater, jacket and shoes. And he carries a pair of bags, offering one to me.

“Yours. Thank you for the loan. I had them laundered of course.”

“Finchby?” I ask, cautiously.

“... Will trouble you no more.” His gaze is direct. “Or for that matter, anyone else.”

you do

He regards me from under

“Yes.”

his throat. After he’d told me

in

turns savage. “I want it known what will happen to anyone who makes

calmer again, his smile sunny. “If someone has a quarrel with me, they can discuss it

This is Klempner…

he’s done to some of the people who

stopped at cutting

want Jenny or Mitch reading something like that in the papers and deciding

the end of the

how is

would say. He blistered my ears before he settled

this before, but we were rather busy. It’s Finchby’s half of the money. I think most of it’s there, minus a…

bag. “I assumed I’d never see

his head. “You know

*****

Klempner

want to see Jenny of course. Spend some

And the baby…

Of course…

vanished too. To see his Beth,

now, I

by, a cardboard box overflows

of anything else to do, I make up the fire. It’s not difficult. A wicker basket contains paper, matches and kindling; the hearth

produces a bright flame and I stack thinnish stove-lengths then thicker logs over it, building it high. A good burn

sound of laughter and chatter drifts. I can pick out Jenny’s voice, excited and

off her new

deeper tones rumble down too and occasionally the nurse trots past the door, uniform

back to the fire, letting the heat bathe

buzz of excitement fades. And depression settles over

Now what?

Perhaps I should go?

play

should be

over the fire, leaning with both hands on the mantle, staring down into the flames and where

The voice is

turn. “Mitch, is Jenny alright?

sleep and she’s having a bath, cleaning herself up properly now. They’ve put Cara in an incubator, but it’s just a precaution while they make sure everything’s working as it

“An incubator? Here?”

away to a clinic

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