Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

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.

sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted against the daylight he stands, legs akimbo, arms outspread…

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

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

Bech catches up with him, Malory wheezing behind.

man 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 and it will

himself, Bech hisses through his

time it’ll be more than my boot in

*****

Charlotte

it’s Kirstie. I’m trying to find Charlotte.

to reply, but I interrupt her.

you. A Mr Maurio Vincenzo. He says he’s from Vincenzo

Master cocks a questioning

lawyers who

on earth could they

say what it’s about,

that he needs to speak with you. Should I send

“Yes, of course.”

“You don’t have anything

I could. And if there was anything,

in his cheeks. “Would you like

to sit in

you would like to, yes, of

a man wearing a dark grey suit and

“That’s right.”

hand outstretched. “Maurio Vincenzo. You dealt with my father when he handled your

meet you. I’m a bit baffled though. Surely everything to do with my

do with your divorce, but another matter entirely. Although it was your estranged husband who informed us

“Richard has no appointments just now, Charlotte. The conference room is free all morning.” She gestures across. “If you’ll go through,

in, to the sidelong glance of

“It’s fine,” I say.

his briefcase, “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 prove

need to. But why

please give me your signature

watching, a finger pressed to his lips as I sign my old and long-abandoned name. The 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

“Right… So?”

“So, I hold here the will deposited with my

stomach clutches and my

me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates. “As

“Yes, I knew