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.

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

the aisle, up the ramp, adding to the black-burned stripes on the pitted concrete. Slamming his fist onto the horn,

the tarmac, cursing, he runs after them, squinting into the sunshine

Malory wheezing behind. “We can’t

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 be the

hisses through his teeth, winded; no words,

more than my boot

*****

Charlotte

I’m trying to find Charlotte. Is

I interrupt her. “Yes, I’m here,

someone down here for you. A Mr Maurio Vincenzo.

Master cocks

who handled

earth could they

say what it’s

needs to speak with you. Should I send

“Yes, of course.”

“You don’t have anything outstanding from

And if there was anything,

sucks in his cheeks. “Would you

want to

you would like

doors Ssshhhh… open and a man wearing a dark grey suit and a

“That’s right.”

Vincenzo. You dealt with my father when

it. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a bit baffled though.

“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

conference room is free all morning.”

us in, to the sidelong glance of

“It’s fine,” I say.

before and I must establish your identity. I understand you are currently known as ‘Charlotte Summerford’, but my father dealt with one

“That’s right.”

can prove

to. But

now, could you please give me your

paper. “Your original petition for divorce,” he comments. “And that’s fine, Mrs

“Right… So?”

I hold here the will deposited with my firm by one Levi

and my Master stirs

over the rim of his spectacles at me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates.

“Yes,

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