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.

I think you've probably gone by a lot of names. In

that behind when I was fourteen. Klempner works as

“And Larry?”

“That was what my mother

“Your mother?”

I did have one you

“I wanted

taps a fingernail on the counter. “What

“What was she like?”

freeze a basilisk. “Why do you

find out who my family were… are…. You told me that your father beat you. I wondered what your mother was like. Did she

around his eyes. “No, she

He looks haunted…

“Tell me about her.”

“I barely remember her.”

me what

“Perhaps one

What going on?

the counter. “You said you killed your

He was a violent man. It was him or

“He beat you?”

his fists. When I was small, he used my mother as a punch-bag. Later, it

speaks. Klempner jerks his chin up. “It’s not a pleasant story. You sure you want

“Yes.”

head; forward, backward, 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

knife. Just the kind you’d use to eat your eggs or scrape butter onto bread. But it’s what was in my

rises and falls; rises and

shocked; in pain from the beating he’d already given me. I was scared. I panicked and

“Where to?”

shrugs. “At first just out… Then, out of town. Then I didn’t know what to do. I considered joining the army. You know the kind of thing. ‘Learn skills. Become a man.’ But

jailed you. Not for defending yourself. And

sneers. “I was fourteen. How much did you know of the world at that age? I’d run a knife into a man and watched him

Charlotte’s face goes slack…

Jenkins…

mirror of what happened to her at the same

she’d

She ran…

And she kept running…

many questions so long as you pull your

his arms, leans

but I moved around a lot. Congo, Chad, Central African Republic… you name

dangerous places to be. And dangerous times to be

they were.” Klempner’s voice is languid, almost bored, but his gaze

breaks in. “What were you doing? Why did

her, then back to Klempner, “Charlotte…” he

war to be found in that part

blanks over for a moment, then refocuses. “You

“I was. Yes.”

Why would you do

“It’s a living.”

“But it’s so dangerous.”

tilts. “Compared to

to….” She holds…

for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation, make

me. You wouldn’t have said all that unless you wanted me to know. Why did you stay

on the run,” he says,

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