Mitch

She descends the stairs as if the devil is behind her…

He is…

She risks a look up; the briefest of glances. She can’t see him, but the clang of pursuit echoes above her.

And she runs…

Down two stories, three. Almost to ground level… and there… As she hits tarmac… a door close by… An emergency exit swings open, a body erupting out of it…

Frank.

He canons into her, grabbing her by the waist, swinging her around.

“Mitch…”

“Don’t stop.” She jerks a head up to where Klempner rattles down the steps after her. “Where’s your car?”

“Basement, but the keys…”

“Got them. Move.”

The pair swerve, u-turning back into the stairwell, barrelling downwards. From above, the sound of a slamming door; echoing boots on concrete

They burst into the parking lot.

“Where?” She peers into the low dark space.

“There.” He points, still running, snatching at her wrist, towing her along. From behind another crash from a swinging door. From off-side, Bech appears with Malory, both with guns in their hands.

The pair dash from one grey concrete pillar to another; stooping, running at a crouch, dodging between corridors of vehicles; vans, station wagons, saloons… Then, a sports car; shiny, bright red and low…

A crack behind her. A whistle…

Mitch shrieks and drops as the bullet skids over the door of the two-seater, taking paintwork with it…

Klempner’s voice, reverberating through the low space. “Put the fucking gun down. Hurt her and I’ll gut you.”

… but she keeps moving…

Frank is ahead of her. For a moment he skids, foot sliding over a patch of oil. Slipping, he falls but catches himself on the handle of the nearest door, then, “There… Keys!”

She tosses them across and twisting, he catches them one-handedly, pointing ahead to his own 4x4. Lights flash orange, beeping and the crunch of disengaging locks resound through the low-ceilinged space.

She tumbles into the passenger seat.

“Stay down.” Frank engages and with the screech of tortured rubber, the car careens down the ranks of vehicles.

and Malory race behind, but Klempner cuts across, sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted against the daylight he stands, legs

screams down the aisle, up the ramp, adding to the black-burned stripes on the pitted concrete. Slamming his fist onto the horn, it shrieks defiance as the car rockets to the exit. At the last moment, Klempner hurls himself to one side as they smash through the

them, squinting into the sunshine but already the traffic has closed around

with him, Malory wheezing behind. “We can’t

drops, grunting and clutching his gut. Klempner lashes out with a foot, planting his boot in Bech’s ribs. “Use a gun near her again

Bech hisses through his

Next time it’ll be more than my boot in your guts. Now get up

*****

Charlotte

it’s Kirstie. I’m trying to find

to reply, but I interrupt her. “Yes, I’m

cocks

lawyers who handled my

on earth could they

he say what it’s about,

he needs to speak with you.

“Yes, of course.”

have anything outstanding from your divorce

there was anything, I’m sure

you like me

to sit

you would like

suit and a

“That’s right.”

Vincenzo. You dealt with my father when

hand, shake it. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a bit baffled

was your estranged husband who informed us where we could find you. Is

“Richard has no appointments just now, Charlotte. The conference room is free all

us in, to the sidelong glance

“It’s fine,” I say.

“I mean no offence, but you and I have not met before and I must establish your identity. I understand you are currently known as ‘Charlotte Summerford’, but

“That’s right.”

you can

to. But why

could you please give me

lawyer compares it with some paper from his case, then looks up again, smiling, holding up the paper. “Your original petition for divorce,” he comments. “And that’s fine, Mrs Summerford. Now…” He takes out another document. “As to why I am here. As I mentioned, my firm was contacted recently by your ex-husband, Charles Bennett, to inform us that he had relocated

“Right… So?”

document, punctuating his words with it. “So, I hold here the

stomach clutches and my Master stirs

Vincenzo looks over the rim of his spectacles at me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates. “As you probably know, he died some years

throat tightens. “Yes, I knew

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