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.

behind, but Klempner cuts across, sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted against

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

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

up with him, Malory wheezing behind. “We

a foot, planting his boot in Bech’s ribs. “Use a gun near her again and it will be the last thing you

on himself, Bech hisses through his teeth, winded; no words, but

more than my boot in your guts.

*****

Charlotte

intercom buzzes. “Francis, it’s Kirstie. I’m trying to find Charlotte. Is

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

here for you. A Mr Maurio Vincenzo. He says

cocks

lawyers who handled

on earth could they

say what it’s

with you. Should

“Yes, of course.”

“You don’t have anything outstanding

I could. And if there was anything,

you like me to sit

I want to

like to, yes, of

elevator doors Ssshhhh… open and a man wearing a dark grey suit and a professional manner steps out. He glances around, then to me. “Mrs

“That’s right.”

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

shake it. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a bit baffled though. Surely everything to do

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

Charlotte. The conference room is free all morning.” She gestures across. “If you’ll go through,

in, to the

“It’s fine,” I say.

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

“That’s right.”

you can prove

need to. But why should I need

give me your signature

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 you after he, and we, lost track of you for

“Right… So?”

holds up the document, punctuating his words with it. “So, I

stomach clutches and my

Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates. “As you probably know,

throat tightens. “Yes,