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.

Klempner cuts across, sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted

Slamming his fist onto the horn, it shrieks defiance as the

them, squinting into the sunshine but already the

Malory wheezing behind. “We can’t let

with a foot, planting his boot in Bech’s ribs. “Use a gun near her

himself, Bech hisses through his

more than my boot in your guts.

*****

Charlotte

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

I

for you. A Mr

Master cocks a questioning

who handled my

on earth

say what it’s

to speak with you.

“Yes, of course.”

have anything outstanding

could. And if there was anything, I’m sure Chad

in his cheeks. “Would you like me to

to

you would like to, yes, of

a dark grey suit and a professional manner steps out. He glances around, then to

“That’s right.”

You dealt with my

you. I’m a bit

“This isn’t to do with your divorce, but another matter entirely. Although it was your estranged husband who informed us where we could find you. Is there somewhere we can speak in

The conference room

us 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 my father dealt with one ‘Jennifer Conners’. I have only Mr Bennett’s word that you are the same person. You can confirm that you are the

“That’s right.”

can

need to. But why

give

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,

“Right… So?”

it. “So, I hold

and my Master stirs in his

his spectacles at me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates. “As you probably know, he died some

tightens. “Yes, I