Masters & Lovers Box Set Three
Chapter 47
Michael
Klempner is, as usual, waiting as we arrive. From his seat, behind the barrier, he watches me enter with Charlotte. He looks rough; shadows under his eyes and he's lost weight.
The guard, Hartland, is there. He leans down, whispers close by my ear. “If it looks like trouble, just say the word.”
“I will.”
Then he straightens up and levels his baton towards Klempner. “Behave yourself, Larry.”
Klempner looks up, just barely tilts his head in acknowledgement. But I remember the look he gave Hartwell the last time we were here…
The monster stirring…
Klempner watches as James follows us in, letting out a barely audible sigh as he sits.
“That leg giving you trouble?”
James reply is curt. “Cold, damp weather.” But I hear his surprise at the question lurking behind the words.
Klempner fingers a long white scar on his hand. “It can't have been pleasant when Bech shot you. Tell me, do you remember it happening?”
James’ eyes shoot arrows. “What's it to you?”
“If you had just discovered you have a daughter, don't you think you would want to know something about the man she answers to?”
James shifts. Not much and perhaps not visibly to those who didn't know him, but I see it.
Unsettled?
“I didn't remember it at first, no,” he says. “The memory resurfaced after a few months.”
Klempner raises a flat, mirror gaze to him. “The memory was repressed?”
“Apparently.”
Klempner has a plastic cup of water by him. He takes a long mouthful, then sets it down again. “Interesting,” he says, “how the mind protects itself.”
What the hell’s he talking about?
Between me and James, Charlotte sits, shuffling awkwardly. Klempner chews at his upper lip. The pair regard each other in silence for a long minute then Charlotte finally speaks. “Thank you for sending the necklace.”
In restrained tones, “You’re welcome.” His eyes dip to her collar bone. “It suits you. As it did your mother.”
Charlotte swallows and lapses into silence again.
This could take a while…
After another long pause, Klempner says, “Are you going to ask me about your mother? That’s what you usually do.”
Charlotte fidgets then blurts, “I don’t even know what to call you.”
Klempner blows air. Looks down. Looks up. Then, “I suppose Dad is too much to hope for?”
James huffs and Klempner levels a stare at him. Then, “What do you want to call me?”
Charlotte’s voice would cut glass. “Don't tempt me.”
He coughs a laugh with no humour in it. “They know me as Larry around here. You can call me Larry.”
“What's your real name?”
“What?” He seems genuinely taken aback by the question.
name? I don’t think it’s Klempner. I think you've probably gone by a lot of names. In a
left that behind when I was fourteen. Klempner works as well as anything else.
“And Larry?”
“That was what my mother
“Your mother?”
did have one you
wanted to
fingernail on the
“What was she like?”
a basilisk. “Why do you want
trying to find out who my family were… are…. You told me that your father beat you. I wondered what your mother was
eyes. “No, she didn’t.”
He looks haunted…
“Tell me about her.”
“I barely remember her.”
what you do
“Perhaps one day. But not
What going on?
counter. “You said you
He was a violent man. It was
“He beat you?”
He enjoyed it. Used his fists. When I was small, he
as he speaks. Klempner jerks his chin up. “It’s not a
“Yes.”
slowly, as though considering, then, “I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. He had me backed against the kitchen table. He was drunk. Throwing punches. Not caring what part of me
or a meat knife. Just the kind you’d use to eat your eggs or scrape butter onto bread. But it’s what was in my hand. I stabbed him. I
rises and
was shocked; in pain from the beating he’d already given me.
“Where to?”
didn’t know what to do. I considered joining the army. You know the kind of thing. ‘Learn skills. Become a man.’ But I was too young, and they’d soon have identified me anyway. So,
wouldn’t have jailed you. Not for defending yourself. And
a knife into
Charlotte’s face goes slack…
Jenkins…
what happened to her at the same
thought she’d killed
She ran…
And she kept running…
the country. Worked my way on the cargo ships. There’s destinations where they don’t ask too many questions so long as
his arms, leans forward. “Which part of
a lot. Congo, Chad, Central African Republic… you
back again. “Those were dangerous places
Klempner’s voice is languid, almost bored, but his
“What were you doing? Why
to her, then
war to be
a moment, then refocuses.
“I was. Yes.”
would you
“It’s a living.”
“But it’s so dangerous.”
head tilts. “Compared
holds… chewing
for what it is worth to you. If you find
then, “What happened after that? Tell me.” Klempner doesn’t speak. “Tell me. You wouldn’t have said all that unless you wanted me to know. Why did you
was on the run,” he says, a touch of
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