The food in the canteen isn’t haut cuisine, being served for a clientele who go for quantity over quality. But it’s hot and there’s plenty of it, and Benny hits his plate as though he’s not eaten for a week…

Perhaps he hasn’t…

My Master has his smile firmly switched to On, but I see his eyes travelling Benny, measuring and gauging. He doesn’t say much, simply playing with a bowl of soup while Benny engulfs a huge plate of casserole, veg and mash, then wipes the plate down with a roll.

“They do top-ups as part of the price.” My Master waves vaguely at the serving counter. “Go get more if you want it.”

Benny mumbles something and gripping his tray, heads for the serving counters. As soon as he is out of earshot, my Master turns to me. “So, how do you know him?”

“He was in Blessingmoors when I was. He… was kind to me.”

His brows rise. “Kind to you?” He props an elbow on the table, his chin on a fist.

“Yes. At a time when there wasn’t much kindness around, Benny tried.”

Expressionless, “What did he do?”

The stew I just ate sours as I seek memories I usually suppress. “There was a day… There weren’t many books in Blessingmoors. I think they only kept the ones they had to fool the authorities. But there was one. It was my favourite. ‘The Thousand and One Nights’. You know, the Arabian Nights…” The smallest of nods. “One of the men there, one of the staff, ripped it up…”

In a voice with no tone, “Why did he do that?”

“No reason. Just for spite. But he tore it up in front of me then…” I bite down on my words, shrinking from the memory. “Anyway, Benny tried to mend it. Put it back together again for me.”

My Master says nothing, takes a spoonful of soup. Benny returns with another mountain of food.

“So, what do you do, Benny?” asks my Master.

Benny chews at a potato chunk, struggles to swallow before he speaks. “Do?”

“What do you do for a living? Charlotte here… Jenny… is training to be an engineer. What do you do?”

Benny’s eyes round up, his smile broad and bright as he looks at me. “Engineer? Hey, that’s great.” Then he looks down into his plate. “But she was always the smart one. I’m not clever like her. I don’t have a job right now.”

My Master muses into his soup. “Would you like to work? You want a job?”

Gulping down, “Oh, yes. I always get work if I can, but it never lasts long.”

furrowing, “Why’s that? Short contract

at his food, stirring it around. “No. I always try to get something permanent. I work hard, and I’m good with my hands, but sooner or later they always give me something I have to read; instructions or

in

thin face flushes. “Like I said, I’m not clever

work going here on site if you want to try.” Benny jolts up. “It would just be temporary labouring for now, but if we find out what you’re good at, it could lead to

answers with a grin like a rising sun. “That’d be great. Sure. Whatever

My Master offers his hand again. And again, Benny takes it a

never

… and shakes.

after lunch, I’ll introduce you to the site manager, Sam Callaghan.” He eyes Benny’s plate, just being cleaned of the last of its gravy, and jerks a thumb back

a quest for apple pie, I say, “Thank you,

around. He was kind to you, and for me, that

*****

Twenty-Six Years Ago

tries to read but can’t concentrate. She watches daytime TV; quiz and game shows,

twelve hours she can sleep no more and yet, gritty-eyed, feels as

No-one calls.

has

Have they forgotten her?

least here, she’s

beyond thinking, she

at the ceiling for a moment before

depths

you to our offices. Be at the front door in twenty

*****

the offices. “Mr Devlin is expecting you, Miss Kimberley. Go straight

He takes a sheaf of photos from an envelope, spreading them out on the table top; a dozen faces, seen from different angles and distances; not good quality, as though taken

barely hesitates as she points. “That's

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

lays another photograph on the table; a different shot of the same face. Old and blurred, in black and white but yellowing at

he doesn’t have the

but I have to say that you have become involved with a very dangerous individual. The man you know as Lawrence Klempner has known connections with a range of criminal organisations. In this photo here, he’s in Angola, but there is information linking him

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