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.

repeats. “What's your real name? I don’t think it’s Klempner. I think you've probably gone by a

you mean my original name. I left that behind when I was fourteen. Klempner works as

“And Larry?”

lower. “That was what my mother called

“Your mother?”

did have one you

wanted to ask you

a fingernail on the

“What was she like?”

freeze a basilisk. “Why do

who my family were… are….

plays around his eyes. “No, she

He looks haunted…

“Tell me about her.”

“I barely remember her.”

what

“Perhaps one day. But

What going on?

the counter. “You said you

violent man. It was

“He beat you?”

I was small, he used

as he speaks. Klempner jerks

“Yes.”

“I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. He had me backed against the kitchen table. He was drunk. Throwing punches. Not caring what part of me he hit so long as he

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 sank it into his chest.

rises and falls; rises and falls. “Did you

pain from the beating he’d already

“Where to?”

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, I

interrupts. “They wouldn’t have jailed you. Not for defending yourself. And you were

into a man

Charlotte’s face goes slack…

Jenkins…

to her at the same

thought she’d

She ran…

And she kept running…

many questions so long as you pull your weight. And it was easier back then. They didn’t have the kind of security on ports that

arms, leans forward. “Which

disembarked in Lagos, but I moved around a lot.

dangerous places to be. And dangerous times to

almost bored, but his gaze holds steady to

breaks in. “What were you doing? Why did you

then back to

be found in that

for a moment, then refocuses.

“I was. Yes.”

Why would you do something

“It’s a living.”

“But it’s so dangerous.”

tilts. “Compared to

She holds…

His voice is almost gentle. “A piece of advice, for what it is worth to

Klempner doesn’t speak. “Tell me. You wouldn’t have said all that unless you

run,” he says, a touch of asperity in

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