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.
repeats. “What's your real name? I don’t think it’s Klempner. I think you've probably gone by a lot of names. In a
“You’re right. I have. If you mean my original name. I left that behind when I was fourteen.
“And Larry?”
was what my mother
“Your mother?”
did have one
the sarcasm. “I wanted to ask you about
taps a fingernail on the counter. “What about
“What was she like?”
basilisk. “Why
father… then she's my grandmother. I’m trying to find out who my family were… are…. You told me that your
eyes. “No,
He looks haunted…
“Tell me about her.”
“I barely remember her.”
what
one day. But not
What going on?
props elbows on the counter. “You
was a violent man.
“He beat you?”
small, he used my mother
sits, frozen as he speaks. Klempner jerks his
“Yes.”
me backed against the kitchen table. He
meat knife. Just the kind you’d use to eat your eggs or
rises and
then, “No. I was shocked; in pain from the beating he’d already given me. I was
“Where to?”
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 kept
you. Not for defending yourself. And you were a
I’d run a knife into a man and watched him die at my feet. I thought they’d lock me up
Charlotte’s face goes slack…
Jenkins…
happened to her at the
thought she’d
She ran…
And she kept running…
ask too 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
his arms, leans forward. “Which
disembarked in Lagos, but I moved around a
again. “Those were dangerous places to be. And
languid, almost bored, but his gaze holds
breaks in. “What were you doing? Why
her, then back to
a war to be found in that part of the
face blanks over for a moment, then refocuses. “You were a
“I was. Yes.”
Why would you do something
“It’s a living.”
“But it’s so dangerous.”
tilts. “Compared to
holds… chewing her
piece of advice, for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in a
doesn’t speak. “Tell me. You
run,” he says, a touch of asperity in
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