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.

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

right. I have. If you mean my original name. I left that behind when I was

“And Larry?”

lower. “That was what

“Your mother?”

I did have

sarcasm. “I wanted

a fingernail on the

“What was she like?”

would freeze a basilisk. “Why do you

starts again. “If you’re my… father… then she's my grandmother. I’m trying to find out who my family were… are…. You told me that your father beat you. I

“No, she

He looks haunted…

“Tell me about her.”

“I barely remember her.”

me what

“Perhaps one

What going on?

“You said you killed your father. In

violent man. It was

“He beat you?”

his fists. When I was small, he used my

he speaks. Klempner jerks his

“Yes.”

kitchen table. He was drunk. Throwing punches. Not caring what part of me he hit so long as he got something. I grabbed for whatever

kind you’d use to eat your eggs or scrape butter onto bread.

chest rises and falls; rises and falls. “Did you enjoy

for a moment, then, “No. I was shocked; in pain from the beating he’d already given me. I was scared. I panicked and

“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,

jailed you. Not for defending yourself. And you

I’d run a knife into a man and

Charlotte’s face goes slack…

Jenkins…

to her at the

she’d killed

She ran…

And she kept running…

too many questions so long as you pull your weight. And it was easier back then. They

his arms, leans forward.

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

places to

Klempner’s voice is languid, almost bored, but his gaze holds steady

you doing? Why did you

then back to Klempner, “Charlotte…”

“There’s always a war to be

over for a moment, then

“I was. Yes.”

Why would you do

“It’s a living.”

“But it’s so dangerous.”

head tilts. “Compared to

to….” She holds…

is almost gentle. “A piece of advice, for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in

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

says, a touch of asperity in

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