《Masters & Lovers Box Set Three》 Chapter 1 The Shadow of Obsession Chapter 1 The Shadow of Obsession The Shadow of Obsession Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago Our final night. Tomorrow it¡¯s back to the airport and the return home. We sit together in what passes for a tea-room in Helsinki, looking out of the window over the square. Mitch flips through a tourist guide. I kiss the hollow of her corbone where, around her neck, are the emeralds I gave her. ¡°Thank you for wearing them.¡± She turns those eyes on me, deep, deep green;mbent. ¡°They''re beautiful. Thank you for giving them to me.¡± ¡°Not as beautiful as you.¡± She sucks at her lip then nods out to the snow-covered square. "It¡¯s a lovely statue. It says here¡­" She holds up the tourist guide¡­ "¡­ that she¡¯s called ¡®The Mermaid¡¯ but she looks like a woman to me." ¡°She has a lot of names. ¡®Merenneito¡¯, the Mermaid is what the artist called her. But she¡¯s usually called ¡®Havis Amanda¡¯.¡± She looks briefly at the guide again. ¡°It says too, that students put a cap on her during some festival called ¡®Vappu¡¯. It must be quite a climb for them.¡± I huff augh. ¡°That¡¯s not all they do. Vappu is the first of May; Labour Day here and a celebration. The local students take turns each year, college by college, to clean her down. They have trucks and cherry-pickers and God-knows-what to get up there. And for some reason, her breasts always seem to get more washing that the rest of her.¡± And now sheughs too. ¡°Some things never change.¡± Then her smile fades and her fingers touch mine. "Larry it''s been amazing I''ve loved every minute of it. I feel I could spend the rest of my life doing this¡­" ¡­ My heart pounds¡­. ¡°¡­ Just walking together, being together, sitting by the harbour¡­ Thank you so much. I never dreamed anyone would do something like this for me.¡± My throat tightens. ¡°It doesn''t have to stop, Mitch.¡± She holds my hand in hers, stroking the back with a thumb. After a moment, she looks down. ¡°Where did you get that? It looks nasty.¡± She traces over with a fingertip; a cold white scar against the tan on my hand. Several inches long. Ragged. Where did I get it? ¡°No idea. I¡¯ve always had it that I can remember¡­ Probably a souvenir from my father.¡± Her fingers tighten around mine. ¡°Mitch?¡± She looks away again, slipping her hand away. ¡°Give me time, Larry. I''m not ready.¡± ¡°But you''re not saying no.¡± ¡°No, I''m not, but don''t bulldoze me. It¡¯s¡­ not an easy thing you¡¯re asking.¡± I reach, reiming her hand. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why it¡¯s so hard for you. I¡­ Mitch, I think you know how I feel about you. I hope you feel something for me¡­ don¡¯t you?¡± Her eyes flick to mine and away. She tries to pull away her hand but I tighten my fingers around hers. ¡°Mitch?¡± ¡°No strings,¡± she says. ¡°You promised no strings.¡± Disappointment gnaws at me. ¡°Yes, I did. No strings.¡° Don¡¯t let it go¡­ ¡°Mitch. I''m in love with you.¡± Those eyes again, but¡­ What is it? Fear? Fear of me? What have I done to earn that? Or fear of something else? The waitress bustles up beside us, pushing a trolley of cakes. In good but ented English, ¡°Can I get you anything Madam? Sir?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have a ss of wine,¡± I say. ¡°Mitch?¡± ¡°Yes, thanks. I¡¯ll have a ss of dry red.¡± The waitress frowns and nods then trundles off with her trolley. I turn back to Mitch. ¡°What is it? What is it you¡¯re afraid of? You don¡¯t think I would ever¡­?¡± ¡°No.¡± Her reply is hasty, but then, ¡°No, Larry. It¡¯s not you. It¡¯s me.¡± Her voice shudders. ¡°Look, understand, when I was a little girl¡­¡± The waitress reappears at her shoulder. ¡°Madam. You ask for dry red wine. How is this possible? Wine is wet.¡± And we both burst outughing. ***** James ¡°So, are you nning on giving that photo to Charlotte? The one of her mother, father and Klempner.¡± Michael scratches at his hair. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I can¡¯t decide. For sure she¡¯d want the photo of her parents, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be happy about Klempner in it. I did consider trimming him out, but that felt dishonest. Giving it to her seems a bit of a two-edged sword. What do you think?¡± ¡°Let me have another look at it.¡± He takes the photo from his wallet and, looking at it before passing it to me. ¡°Her mother was certainly a beauty.¡± ¡°Just like her daughter. Can¡¯t say I can see anything of her father in her though¡­¡± The photo is a copy of the much older original, the colours faded with age, falsely tinted, but still, the content is perfectly clear. Frank Conners rests his arm around Michelle¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Klempner looks pissed.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t he. So, what do you think? Do I give it to her?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say yes. We don¡¯t help Charlotte by hiding the truth from her. She¡¯ll not like it, but she¡¯s tough enough to handle it. However, why don¡¯t you let me scan it and clean it up a bit? The colours are well out of true. If you¡¯re going to give her a picture of her mother and father together, it might as well be a good one.¡± ¡°Good idea.¡± ***** Outside, the wind wails ament around the walls and sleet slices against the windows. It¡¯s a good night for thefort of friends and family around a warm fire. And with the three of us together, I have both. In my armchair by the hearth, my bad leg raised on a foot-stool, the heat of the mes eases the abominable ache in my leg that damp weather always brings. I swirl half an inch of brandy around the ss, enjoying the heady scent and nuances of amber and gold against the flickering light. A light ssical piece ys in the background. Michael and Charlotte are both reading. He¡¯s not a heavy reader and his book looks like his usual sort; something with a scantily d woman pointing a gun. He looks up from his novel. Suppressing a smile¡­ ¡­ and I realise that all unconsciously, I have been ¡®conducting the orchestra¡¯ with a finger. The bottle of Rioja sitting on the hearth is half-empty. Michael and I agreed that it would be better to have at least one ss of wine inside her before he produced the photograph. From his seat by her on the couch, he raises eyes and I nod. ¡°What are you reading, Charlotte?¡± he asks. She looks up, raising her book, disying the cover. A Song of Ice and Fire¡­ ¡­ Volume Two¡­ That should keep you reading awhile¡­ ¡°Good story?¡± ¡°Great,¡± she says, ¡°so long as you don¡¯t get too attached to any of the characters.¡± Michael frowns, shaking his head slightly. ¡°Charlotte,¡± he says, reaching into his pocket, ¡°I have something for you.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± She smiles brightly, expectantly;ying her book on herp. ¡°What¡¯s that then?¡± Michael meets eyes with me again. ¡°When I was searching the police archives, and I found that address, I found something else too...¡± Her eyes widen, growing wary¡­ ¡°¡­ I held onto it for a while because I didn¡¯t want to risk upsetting you at Christmas, but¡­¡± He passes her the photograph. She trembles as she takes the image between thumb and forefinger, touching the image with a fingertip. ¡°She¡¯s so beautiful,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Yes, she is,¡± says Michael. ¡°Now you know what James and I see when we look at you.¡± Her head lifts and they hold eyes, Michael¡¯s mouth lifting at the corners, then her head twists and she looks to me. I simply smile. Then she looks back. ¡°That¡¯s Klempner, but who¡­?¡± ¡°The other man is your father, Frank Conners.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± The syble catches in her throat, turning to a sob. Her hand lifts to her mouth¡­ Michael takes her hand. ¡°Charlotte?¡± ¡°I¡¯m alright. I¡¯m alright...¡± But her voice is choked. He sits, poised¡­ Ready to hug? T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°James enhanced the image for you. The original was a bit washed out, but he worked on it to get it looking its best, so you could see your mother as she should be.¡± She turns, ¡°Thank you, Master.¡± There¡¯s a gloss to her eyes. Then, ¡°Michael, how did you find this? Why did the police have it?¡± Crap¡­ He speaks quietly. ¡°It was in the missing persons file for your father.¡± And that tips her over the edge. Her shoulders shaking, a sob gurgles up from her throat. Michael moves close, pulls her into his arms, pressing her face into his chest as, her fingers biting into his shoulders, she surrenders to a storm of weeping. Silently, he holds her, stroking her hair. Best to let her get it out¡­ After five minutes, the violent sobs subside. I fill her wine ss, press it to her hand. She gulps it down in half a dozen swallows. ¡°So,¡± she says, ¡°when do we go to look at that address?¡± ***** Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Michael James rolls the razor over the line of jaw to neck, angling in the mirror to see the result. ¡°You¡¯ve got it all,¡± I say. ¡°Bloody nuisance for you having to shave as often as you do.¡± He harrumphs, then, ¡°Maybe I should grow a beard.¡± He looks himself left then right in the mirror. ¡°What do you think?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my opinion you should ask.¡± I cock my head towards the door. ¡°Mmmm.¡± He runs a finger from chin to ear, sucking in his cheeks. ¡°How is she?¡± ¡°Pretty hyper. I¡¯m beginning to wish I¡¯d not told her about the address; checked it out first myself. I could easily have found a different Christmas gift if I tried¡­ If we get there and don¡¯t find anything. If her mother¡¯s moved or died¡­¡± ¡°Worst scenario¡­¡± says James, ¡°No-one¡¯s heard of her at all. No-one knows anything. Anything else is at least a step forward.¡± ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s really why I wanted you toe along too. If it¡¯s bad news, I can¡¯t drive and hold her hand too¡­¡± Charlotte bounces into the room. ¡°I¡¯m ready when you are.¡± I look her up and down. ¡°Have you just changed your clothes?¡± ¡°Er¡­ yes. First, I thought I should go dressed in my best. Then I thought it might look a bit odd, wandering around a strange neighbourhood like that. So I changed into jeans, then I thought, if we find my mother, I should look nice and then¡­¡± I step forward, tug her to me by the waist. ¡°Charlotte, you would look ¡®nice¡¯ if you dressed in an old carpet. If we find your mother, how you¡¯re dressed is the least of what will be happening.¡± Her eyes fall. ¡°If¡­¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s still ¡®if¡¯. The address was old. Even the police file made it clear that they didn¡¯t know what had happened or where she might have gone from there.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Her words are tight, constricted. ¡°But I¡¯m just hoping that¡­¡± I tilt up her chin. ¡°I know what you¡¯re hoping, but with the best will in the world, this is almost certainly just a fact-finding mission. I did a lot of searching through old files just to get as far as I did.¡± She nods against the pressure of my finger then, ¡°Michael?¡± ¡°Mmmm?¡± ¡°Whatever happens, whatever we find, thank you.¡± I press my lips to hers. ¡°My pleasure.¡± ***** ¡°My car?¡± ¡°If that¡¯s alright with you.¡± James pats his thigh. ¡°Given the distance, it would be easier if you were driving.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I turn to check Charlotte¡¯s not in earshot. ¡°The pair of you sit in the back seat. I don¡¯t need a navigator and I¡¯d rather her be close by you.¡± They sit together, he with an arm wrapped around her while she just stares out of the window. asionally our eyes meet in the mirror. ***** ¡°This is it?¡± Charlotte stands, staring around, looking lost. To one side; a car park, huge, able to take hundreds, perhaps thousands of cars. To the other; a hypermarket, DIY and white goods stores, acres of sheet ss disyingputers, TVs, household goods, clothes¡­ The acreage is vast. The retail park perhaps ten years old. No trace remains of what it reced. James stands beside her, a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Charlotte,¡± I say. ¡°But we won¡¯t give up. We¡¯ll keep looking.¡± She nods, her face screwing up with suppressed tears, then she gets back in the car. ***** Muffled in scarves and gloves, Ben and I seat ourselves on a couple of old tree-stumps. Despite James¡¯ stated wish¡­ Order¡­? ¡­ and my own agreement, that Ben not be permitted to visit our home any more after charging in and ruining Charlotte¡¯s birthday, since he chose to apologise, I¡¯ve stretched a point by letting him back while James and Charlotte are not here. And I need the help¡­ Beside us, another huge pile of brush, scrub, weeds and brambles awaits the bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the light wind bites at ears and nose, gnaws at fingers. Why do noses go red and fingers go white¡­? Ben cups hands around his mug. As ever, the soup is excellent. My chef really knows how to turn out the right meal for the weather. Ben sniffs at steam fragrant with sage, thyme and who-knows-what-else, gulps down a mouthful and smacks his lips. ¡°Good stuff.¡± ¡°So it is. Sally knows her job.¡± He clicks his tongue. ¡°I¡¯ll give you that one.¡± He nods out over the area we just cleared, now hacked down to a few inches clear of the ground. His patchwork of a mongrel terrier, Scruffy, digs with industrial-grade ferocity in one corner. ¡°What¡¯s next? That need digging over? More veg patches?¡± ¡°No, that area¡¯s going to be grass, so it just needs mowing. But the old out-buildings on the far side¡­¡± I wave across the stubbled earth¡­ ¡°¡­ Some need demolishing. Some I want to fix up. Now I can get at them without needing a machete every time, we can give them the once-over and decide what¡¯s usable.¡± ¡°Good idea.¡± He stands, wandering over, measuring the collection of dpidated sheds, shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. ¡°Any thoughts on what you¡¯ll be doing with them?¡± ¡°Charlotte spent time on a farm when she was younger. I know she was happy there. I thought she might like to keep some animals.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± He peers through an opening, the rotted remains of the top half of a stable-door hanging by a single hinge, then twists to look up. ¡°Stonework¡¯s sound, but the roof timbers have had it. And the shingles.¡± He digs a thumbnail into the door-frame. ¡°Woodworm have had most of this.¡± He stands back again, casting around at the hotchpotch of buildings. ¡°It reminds me of that old ce at McAlister¡¯s. You know, where we use to y when we were kids.¡± ¡°Lying in wait to rob apples from his orchard, you mean?¡± He chuckles. ¡°Yeah, we did, didn¡¯t we. Hey¡­ you remember that day when he spotted us and he was white-washing his walls¡­¡± ¡°How could I forget it? It was me he threw the bucket over.¡± ¡°Yes, but it was me that had to exin to Mom why I¡¯d brought you home covered in white-wash.¡± He laughs, shaking his head. ¡°Jeez, but the whupping I got that day.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ I was never sure why it was you that got the seat of your pants paddled.¡± ¡°¡¯Cos I was the older one. I¡¯d taken you out and I was supposed to bring you back in one piece and without dripping paint all over the carpets¡­¡± N?velDrama.Org owns ? this. ¡°We didn¡¯t even get any of the apples,¡± I chuckle. Cold air gusts over me and I down another mouthful of soup. ¡°Wonder what that ce is like now?¡± ¡°A lot like this.¡± Ben jerks a thumb at the sheds. ¡°I went back there one day a few months ago. Even the house is falling apart. The old man died. The kids had moved on and none of them wanted to take it on being the size it is¡­¡± ¡°Sell it for a hotel maybe? Like this ce. Convert the outbuilding to holiday chalets or simr?¡± ¡°No, he¡¯d left it in the will that it can¡¯t be sold out of the family. So it¡¯s just standing there, falling to pieces a brick at a time.¡± Shame¡­ ¡°Why did you go back?¡± He sniffs. ¡°Somewhere new to walk Scruffy.¡± He sucks down more soup. I do likewise. Then, ¡°And¡­ I just wanted to take a look, y¡¯know. Happier times.¡± What¡¯s going on? Then I dodge as Scruffy¡¯s earth-moving changes direction and a shower of mud, pebbles and old roots stters over my jeans. He¡¯s making good progress. His head down, ass up, his stub of a tail wags furiously as earth scatters behind him. ¡°What d¡¯you reckon he¡¯s after?¡± I ask. He sucks in his cheeks. ¡°Rats maybe. Could easily be a burrowing out from the sheds.¡± Mmmm¡­. Maybe we should have a dog or two ourselves¡­ Scruffy¡¯s head suddenly pops up, nose wiffling at the breeze. He trots over, sits by me and directs lasers at my soup-mug. *sigh* Stooping, I pour beef broth onto a ttish rock by my feet. Scruffyps it up then moves to Ben, pointing snout, and the mole-hill now attached to the top, at Ben¡¯s mug. He turns soft eyes on his junk- heap mutt, squatting down to offer his mug, with itsst inch of soup in the bottom. Scruffy, snout pressing deep,ps it out, his tail beating double-time. It feels good, just sharing time with my bother. Nothing really to be said¡­ Just¡­ Family¡­ ¡°Ben, I wanted to say thank you for apologising to Charlotte and James. It means a lot. She¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s going through a tough time right now. I appreciate what you did.¡± He stands, his answering smile crooked, turning sour. ¡°How else was I going to hang on to my brother? Since it was clear you were going to side with them...¡± ¡°She''s my wife, Ben.¡± Change the subject¡­ ¡°How''s it going with Erin?¡± ¡°She''s a nice girl. Everything I ever looked for...¡± Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. ¡°¡­ at least I thought so.¡± And there¡¯s an edge to his voice. Now what¡­? ¡°Just don''t push it too far, too fast, eh.¡± He cradles his empty mug. ¡°I won''t, and I''m not sure I want to¡­¡± Here ites¡­ ¡°¡­ She''s a bit boring. Needy. Always wants to ask me what she should do next.¡± Not another failed ¡®Ben Rtionship¡¯¡­ ¡°Always had the feeling you wanted the kind of girl who¡¯d put you in charge?¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought too, but¡­¡± ¡°So¡­ when you find the kind of woman you thought you wanted, suddenly you don''t want her anymore? ¡° He doesn¡¯t reply. The mug revolves between his hands. Am I being dense? Missing the sub-text¡­? ¡°So, what¡¯s going wrong?¡± ... this time... His face tightens, lips pressed t. ¡°You¡¯ve already split up haven¡¯t you?¡± He looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± Ben¡¯s tone grows increasingly bitter. ¡°I thought she was a nice regr, everyday kind of girl, and it turns out she''s just another fucking whore.¡± ¡®Nice girls don¡¯t like sex¡¯? Where did he get that from? Can¡¯t have been Mom and Dad¡­ Maybe I should stay well out of it¡­ ¡­ ¡­ He¡¯s my brother¡­ ¡°Having a libido doesn''t make a woman a whore, Ben. It makes her normal. We have sex-drives. So do they.¡± ¡°Well, I made love to her, didn¡¯t I! What more does it take?¡± ¡°Is that a real question? You want to talk about it? Or are you just blowing off?¡± He squares up, his face reddening. ¡°Oh, great¡­ I¡¯m supposed toe to my little brother for sex advice?¡± Clearly not¡­ ¡°Calm down, why don¡¯t you. I thought you wanted to talk. If you don¡¯t, then don¡¯t.¡± He glowers for long seconds. ¡°Would you believe she said... She said I''m no good in the sack¡­¡± Fuck¡­ ¡°She said I was ¡®too gentle¡¯¡­ I mean, what do I make of that? They always say women like a man being gentle with them¡­ Don¡¯t they?¡± He looks up, his eyes almost pleading. ¡°Ye¡­eess, but there¡¯s a time and a ce for ¡®gentle¡¯.¡± ¡°Come again?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s say that if Charlotte came home saying she¡¯d had a rough day at work, I¡¯d put effort into giving her a rough night.¡± He looks at me long, then his face twists. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡± Narrow-minded bastard you are, Ben¡­ But I maintain a discreet silence. Should I have a word with Kirstie? She knows¡­ Maybe she¡¯d tell me what the problem is¡­ It¡¯d have to be the right moment¡­ The silence draws out. ¡°So¡­ Erin?¡± He thrusts the mug at me. ¡°I¡¯d better be going,¡± he mutters. ¡°Ben¡­¡± He turns, striding away. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in a few days. Call me when you need some more help...¡± ¡°I will.¡± He shouts over his shoulder. ¡°¡­ and when I¡¯m allowed back.¡± Crap¡­ Is nothing going to go righttely? ***** Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago The bar is still dressed for Christmas, but at the far side of the room a girl is taking down green and red foil decorations from a tree while a man in blue overalls reaches from the top of adder with a screwdriver, fiddling in an electric box, looking back as coloured lights flicker on then off again. Behind the bar, Angelo is doing his ¡®forever work¡¯ of polishing sses¡­ ¡°What¡¯ll it be, Larry?¡± He reaches towards the bottles¡­ ¡°Just a coffee. It¡¯s a bit early.¡± ¡°Coming up.¡± To the hiss of steam from the kitchte, Frank arrives, briefcase in hand. ¡°Hi, Larry. Happy New Year.¡± He nces at his wrist. ¡°Notte am I?¡± ¡°Not at all. I just arrived myself.¡± As we seat ourselves, Angelo arrives with my coffee. ¡°What are you having, Frank?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have a beer. Thanks, Angelo.¡± Heys the briefcase on the coffee-table starting to click it open¡­ ¡°Not just now.¡± I nod towards the door. He follows my gaze, frowning as he puts the case to one side and Mitch sashays in. As beautiful as ever, she¡¯s wearing a dress in that shade of green that suits her so well. ssically cut, it suggests her perfect figure without disying too much of it¡­ And she¡¯s wearing that fucking ne that Conners gave her. ¡°Hi, Mitch. Good holiday?¡± Angelo holds up a box of tea bags. ¡°Your usual?¡± She shes teeth. ¡°Yes, great holiday.¡± Then, ¡°And yes. Mint please.¡± T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. Mitch undtes over, settling on the couch between me and Frank. ¡°Hi, guys.¡± ¡°Hey, Mitch. Great to see you.¡± Frank breaks into a broad smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. ¡°Happy New Year. I was beginning to think you were nevering back.¡± He jerks a thumb at me. ¡°Did he give you a good time?¡± ¡°Hi, Frank. Yes, we had a wonderful time. It was the best Christmas I¡¯ve ever had.¡± He looks a bit blue at that. Angelo arrives with a tray, setting down beer and tea, then vanishes behind the bar, to return a moment or soter. He dumps arge flimsy cardboard box on the table, the kind a baker might use. ¡°Old Mr Vacarrelli called by,¡± he says to Mitch. ¡°I did exin to him that you weren¡¯t working again yet, but he¡¯d brought them with him and he said Happy New Year and we should share them between us. But that if you changed your mind, you should give him a call.¡± ¡°Er, right. Thanks.¡± There¡¯s a touch of pink at her cheekbones. ¡°No, I¡¯m not working yet, and I don¡¯t think I have my phone book with me anyway.¡± He thumbs across the room. ¡°You left it in the back there before you left.¡± ¡°Fine. Thanks.¡± ¡°What¡¯s in the box, Mitch?¡± I sip my coffee. ¡°Dare I ask?¡± She sips at her tea, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that not all of my clients want the same thing.¡± My cup hovering half-way to the counter-top. ¡°Really?¡± I eye the box. She¡¯s actually blushing¡­ What makes a professional hooker blush? What the hell is it? Frank exchanges frowns with me then, scratching at the back of his head, weighs in. ¡°C¡¯mon Mitch. I know you¡¯ve got client confidentiality and all that, but we¡¯re all grown-ups here. We know what grown- ups do together¡­¡± She shoots him a foxy look. ¡°You think? Okay¡­¡± she sets her teacup down on its saucer. ¡°He¡¯s an old guy. He had a good marriage but he was widowed some years ago. He¡¯s not forgotten what it¡¯s all about, but he¡¯s pretty elderly and, well¡­ He can¡¯t¡­¡± She rocks her hands¡­. ¡°You know¡­ He¡¯s lonely as much as anything and mainly he wants someone to talk to, but¡­¡± She reaches for the box and flips open the lid. Cream cakes? Frank and I both stare into the box. ¡°Okay,¡± he says. ¡°I give up. What¡­?¡± ¡°He likes me to throw them at him,¡± she exins, her eyes twinkling. Wtf? Frank rubs the end of his nose. ¡°Run that by me again.¡± Her lips quirk. ¡°After we¡¯ve chatted for a bit, he undresses and stands in the bath, and then I have to throw the cream cakes at him. And for every one where I, um, score a direct hit, he pays me a bonus.¡± Frank creases up. So do I. ¡°How long¡¯s this been going on?¡± I ask. ¡°About four years now.¡± ¡°And how much of a bonus does he pay you?¡± ¡°A ten for every bulls-eye.¡± ¡°And I¡¯ll bet,¡± says Frank, ¡°that in that time you¡¯ve be a fucking Olympic grade shot with a cream cake.¡± ¡°Damn right,¡± she chuckles. ¡°I hit the gold five times out of six. It¡¯s earned me a nice little bonus over the years.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s all he wants?¡± I ask. ¡°Yup. After I¡¯ve exhausted the ammunition, he showers down, pays me and leaves. And I don¡¯t see him again until the same time next week.¡± She offers the box to us. ¡°Meringue anyone? Or maybe an eir?¡± Frank and I meet eyes. ¡°Think I¡¯ll pass,¡± he says. ¡°Me too.¡± She offers the box towards the bar. ¡°Angelo?¡± ¡°Thanks, Mitch.¡± His face is nd. ¡°Maybe another time.¡± Then Frank bellyughs, flinging an arm around her shoulders. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s great to have you back, Mitch. That¡¯s the bestugh I¡¯ve had in weeks.¡± She stands, heading for the door. ¡°Just going to powder my nose. Back in a minute, boys.¡± As she vanishes from view, I say, ¡°You got those papers for me?¡± Frank turns brisk. ¡°All here. And I¡¯ve taken some shots for you.¡± He fishes out a Proid camera and a dozen shots. ¡°Just take a quick look through. Check you¡¯re happy¡­¡± I flip through; inside shots, outside shots¡­ ¡°Yes, they¡¯re fine¡­¡± ¡°Great. I just need your signature about a dozen times over and um¡­¡± He eyes me spectively¡­ ¡°I had to grease a few palms to get it moving as fast as you wanted.¡± ¡°That''s fine. Invoice me. I''ll pay it right away.¡± He fishes papers from a file. ¡°Got it here. I''ve listed the fees as disbursements.¡± He flicks through the sheets, returns to the file and extracts another document, sliding it over the table. ¡°That¡¯s thest of them.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I shuffle through the collection, totting up the total, then reach for my cheque-book. To Frank¡¯s raised brows, I write out a cheque. ¡°Always great doing business with you, Larry. A man knows where he stands.¡± Waving the cheque in the air for a moment, I pass it across. ¡°You deliver what I ask for. I pay you. That¡¯s the deal, isn¡¯t it?¡± He purses his lips. ¡°In theory, yes. But my life would be a lot easier if everyone paid on the dot like you do. Still¡­¡± He turns thoughtful. ¡°¡­ I should have the keys for you at the end of the week. So¡­ you''re nning on settling here then? New apartment and all?¡± ¡°I''m thinking about it. At any rate, I want somewhere to make my own, instead of camping in hotels all the time.¡± ¡°I get that. You still want me to get the decorators in?¡± ¡°Yes, nothing borate. Cream and neutral colours¡­¡± ¡°nk canvas kinda thing? Put your own mark on it?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got it. Rece the carpets where it¡¯s needed. I¡¯ll have the furniture sent over when you tell me it¡¯s ready. But the quicker the better.¡± ¡°Leave it with me.¡± Frank¡¯s gaze travels over my shoulder to where Mitch went. ¡°Um¡­ you two an item now?¡± Are we? ¡°I''m not sure what that means,¡± I say. ¡°No?¡± Frank brightens. ¡°No? Right....¡± Mitch reappears, rubbing her fingers through each other. ¡°Back again.¡± ¡°Hey, Mitch.¡± Frank snatches up the camera. ¡°Let¡¯s have a photo, eh. The Intrepid Trio at Christmas.¡± Intrepid Trio? How fucking cheesy can you be? ¡°It¡¯s a bitte for Christmas, Frank,¡± she says doubtfully. ¡°C¡¯mon, go with me why don¡¯t you. Hey, Angelo,e and take a shot for us.¡± Then he slings an arm around Mitch, pulling her closer to himself. The barman puts down his towel¡­ Still wiping sses? Makes him look busy? ¡­ and makes his way across. Frank paints on that infernal All-American grin he has. ¡°C¡¯mon, Larry. Raise a smile.¡± ¡°Say cheese,¡± says Angelo, points and clicks. The camera whirrs and hums, then after a moment, disgorges a photo which he passes to Frank. As he looks at it he grins, teeth showing. ¡°Hey, Mitch, you look great.¡± Then it fades. ¡°Can¡¯t you try a bit harder for a smile, Larry? Here, Angelo, stick it up on the pin board by the bar.¡± Arrogant bastard¡­ ¡­ Who the fuck do you think¡­? But I¡¯m interrupted from responding by a new arrival. ¡°Afternoon, sir.¡± Bech nods to Frank. ¡°Mr Conners.¡± His eyes settle on Mitch. There is something in his expression. It¡¯s masked, but¡­ ¡°Bech, this is my friend, Mitch. Mitch, my¡­ colleague, Mr Bech.¡± She stands, smiling and charming, offering her hand. Expressionlessly, he takes it, all the while, measuring her with his eyes. Then he turns to me. ¡°I have the ounts for you, sir. Expenditures and purchases for thest month, including thest shipment¡­¡± His hesitation is minute. ¡°Perhaps you would prefer to discuss them later?¡± ¡°Just give me the files, Bech. I¡¯ll look them over and get back to you if I have any queries.¡± ¡°Of course, sir.¡± I slip the documents in my briefcase and click it tightly closed. Empty ss in hand, Frank stands. ¡°Can I get you a drink, Mr Bech?¡± Lips tight, ¡°Thank you, but no. I have work to be doing.¡± Narrow-eyed, he scans Mitch again. ¡°I¡¯d better be going. Call me when you¡¯re ready, sir.¡± As he exits, Frank guffaws, pping his thigh. ¡°He¡¯s a charmer, isn¡¯t he.¡± ¡°Does he work for you, Larry?¡± asks Mitch. ¡°Is he part of your Blessingmoors project?¡± How does she¡­? I cast a sharp look at Frank. ¡°What happened to client confidentiality?¡± Frank raises spread palms. ¡°Hey, c¡¯mon, Larry. It¡¯s Mitch we¡¯re talking about here. Besides, what harm can it do? You think she wasn¡¯t impressed when she found out you were behind it?¡± Mitch raises a hand to her mouth. ¡°Have I made trouble? I¡¯m so sorry. I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡± ¡°Forget it,¡± I say. ¡°Just let it lie.¡± ¡°Frank¡¯s right,¡± she says. ¡°I was impressed when I found out.¡± She pauses. ¡°Larry, do you need volunteers down there? I know most charities do¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± My voice is sharper than I intend. ¡°No, Mitch. Thank you for the offer, but we don¡¯t need volunteers.¡± ***** Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Michael My wife. I¡¯ve still not be used to saying those words, but I love ying them in my head. My wife¡­ For all the ups and downs of life; my family, with Ben and his attitude, Charlotte¡¯s family, trying to find it anyway¡­ between ourselves, everything is fine¡­ More than fine. Whatever it takes, we¡¯re there for each other. I look beyond her to where James lies, eyes closed, his face calm. At least he doesn¡¯t have that set of problems¡­ ¡­. any more¡­ Charlotte lies on her side, facing away but with her back pressed close against my chest. Charlotte is by no means a small woman, but nheless, she seems made to fit under the nook of my arm. One arm draped over my treasure, I twine a finger through a stray lock of hair, holding it to my face, inhaling. Is she asleep? Her breathing is soft and steady, a gentle movement of her body. Beyond her, James lies, eyes closed, his chest on a regr rise and fall. Just having her so close is enough; her warmth, her scent. It spikes through me. My cock stirs. I want her. Stroking a hand over soft, pale skin, I savour her smooth outline; the shape of neck blending to shoulder, that entuated curve where a narrow waist res to broad hips, t-stomached to the fore and in this case, her lovely ass pressed against me behind. A mass of brilliant copper hair spills over her shoulders and onto the pillows, a loose lock tickling at my face. Here we go... The mere thought sets me going, and I take a moment to enjoy my erection, sandwiched against her spine, the slight pressure pulsing pleasantly with my heartbeat. Her breathing changes; that subtle switch that signals the move from sleep to¡­ Keeping my shaft against the small of her back, I twist back, leaning far enough to clear a space to be able to draw a finger down her spine... Her breath ripples... ... Repeating the movement, digging in ever so slightly with a nail, I outline her spine, one inch at a time. Each vertebra defined by the narrowest of touches, a nerve-ending at a time, I work my way down from her neck, down between her shoulders, and on. I dig in. A pin-point of pain-pleasure in the cavity between two vertebrae. She whimpers and shudders, her pelvis vibrating back against my erection and I must bite down on my own reaction as desire needles through me. Take your time¡­T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. I can¡¯t reach her properly. My shaft pressed hard against her, I want to y with the nerve endings at the small of her back, the ones between those lovely dimples that top her butt-cheeks. Gotta pull away¡­ The delicious pressure on my cock eases but now I have the run of her body. She sighs, her body flexing under my hand, so I ease myself a little further back to work her properly, so far as I can one-handed. My palm resting over her, with fingers and thumb I ease in to stroke and knead. Should have kept some oil on hand¡­. She sighs again, more loudly. ¡°Mmmm, that''s lovely.¡± ¡°Should I keep going?¡± ¡°Maybe not.¡± Her words arenguorous and slow. ¡°I give you two or three hours to stop doing that.¡± She arches again, mewling as I circle my thumb¡­ Bit of a knot there¡­ Work out the kink¡­ ¡­ter¡­. Bad posture? Chair not set right at her desk? Take a look this afternoon¡­ It''s wonderful, but I want more. Lying on my side, one arm pinned, the other constrained by the angle, I can¡¯t get my body behind what I¡¯m doing. mping around her, I pull her close and roll, taking her with me until I lie on top and she under me. She chuckles. ¡°Something I can do for you?¡± ¡°You might say that, yes. Or it might be what I can do for you¡­¡± I rise up, straddling her, and now with both hands free to move, flutter fingertips up and down her spine, kissing skin and flesh in a rhythmic effleurage. Her hands, stretched out on the pillow are fisting, her chest rising and falling more rapidly now. With the heel of my hands, drawing long strokes into firm muscle, I feel the growing vibration of her arousal¡­ You like being manhandled¡­ And we both know it¡­ Not trying to be gentle, I tug her into position, grabbing her at the hip and hauling up her smooth beautiful ass. As I position myself behind her, she tries to rise to all fours but I press her down, my palm-print at the back of the neck. The temptation is always to simply plunge into her. Her scent is rising. Without testing her I know she''s already wet, but I still want to take it slowly. So instead, kneeling up, shoving her knees well apart to get the benefit of her warming aroma, I keep working her over, massaging her heart-shaped ass, the narrowing to her waist, the widening to rib and shoulder. With her vulva presented, I glide paired thumbs down, stroking down to her inner thigh and up again to outline swelling lips. Her face pressed sidelong on the pillow, her mouth is open as she pants silvery whimpers; a crooned response that tightens my groin and sends heat rising up my neck and face. Lowering myself over her, my weight on an elbow, I palm at a breast. It sits warm and soft and heavy in my hand, the nipple nubbing as I thumb at her. Edging closer, I anchor my cock head against her entrance. A tremor runs through her and then deliciously, through my chest. Teasing at her, I push barely inwards, the stretch of her hot flesh around mine as I tease then withdraw, tease then withdraw. And slowly, easily, I prate her. As I enter, her breath catches, but I don''t thrust. Instead sliding in, slowly hilting myself, I twist my hips, rotating inside her. I love this position. Delving deep, I can reach her g-spot with my cock, massaging her inside. Supporting myself on my arms, I gyrate into her, and she groans as I grind myself deep. The sound rumbles through her and then to me where my thighs and groin press against the junction of her legs. ¡°That good?¡± Her face pressed sideways on the pillow, ¡°Oh, God, yes.¡± I''m enjoying those groans... But we can do better¡­ Lodged inside her, I don''t want to withdraw and for a moment scrabble at a side-drawer before seeing a movement¡­ ***** Chapter 5 Chapter 5 James Drifting infortable coziness, something prates my awareness¡­. Charlotte¡¯s voice¡­ No¡­ Charlotte¡¯s groans¡­ I lie, unmoving, just listening. It¡¯s not just a groan; almost a gurgle, it¡¯s throaty, deep¡­. Utterly delicious¡­. Jeez, what a way to wake¡­ ¡­ Sheer fucking catnip. Michael¡¯s voice; ¡°That good?¡± ¡°Oh, God, yes.¡± And my erection rises like a rooster ready to crow the dawn¡­ Is that why they call them cocks? Peeling my lids open, Charlotte¡¯s face is close to mine, lips peeled back over her teeth, her eyes squeezed closed in a grimace might be taken for pain¡­ ¡­ but we all know better than that¡­ Michael is distracted, trying to find something in a side drawer¡­ Oil? Vibe? Help things along¡­ Moving gradually so as not to alert her, slipping down and in, I target her bud. Hot juices spilling over my skin, I rub circles thumb and forefinger over her hooded clit. She yells, bucks and her eyes fly open. His eyes creasing, Michael says, ¡°You joining us?¡± ¡°In a while. Don''t let me interrupt you.¡± ¡°As if I would.¡± ¡°What were you looking for?¡± ¡°Finger vibe. Doesn¡¯t matter now if you¡¯re going to do that.¡± ¡°Pleased to hear it. Good morning, Charlotte.¡± I ease back the hood of her clit with a thumb, exposing the small hard spike. With a finger, I press into the root at that spot she has where¡­ ¡°G¡¯ morning Mast... Aaahhh¡­¡± Michael grins, disying white teeth against his tan. His gaze fixed on her face for a moment, then his eyes drop as he watches himself soft-fucking her. How close is she? Not far off¡­ I press in a little harder, rub a little harder and her head flings back in a wide-mouthed wail. Michael lurches. ¡°Christ, James! Take it easy. You¡¯re making her clench¡­¡± Is that right? I rub again at the same spot. She sings. He grunts. ¡°Come on, cken off a bit. I¡¯m trying not to...¡± I keep rubbing¡­ ¡°Ah, fuck it!¡± And he pitches forward onto his hands, hips juddering against hers. My shaft quivering as I watch, her wail morphs to a scream and at the same moment, he pulls her to himself, burrowing into her as they climax together. Holy crap¡­ They lie entwined, both red-faced, heaving and sweating. After a good minute, Michael¡¯s eyes open, drift mine. He kisses into her neck. ¡°I believe,¡± he says, ¡°that your Master would like your mouth around his cock.¡± A hazy green gaze opens on mine. ¡°Master?¡± ¡°Yes, Charlotte?¡± ¡°Where would you like me?¡± My groin pulses. ¡°I think Michael had it about right, but take your time. Catch your breath.¡± She¡¯s still breathing with her mouth open¡­ Must have been one helluva ride¡­ N?velDrama.Org content rights. Wonder what I missed¡­? She sits upright¡­ She tries to sit upright¡­ ¡°Um, Michael¡­¡± ¡°What? Oh¡­ sorry¡­¡± He unlocks his arm from his death-grip around her waist and she rises, licking and sucking at her lips. Dry mouth? How long did he keep her going? I¡¯ll set a fuckin¡¯ rm next time¡­ I sit up, pour water from the jug by the bedside, pass it to her. She sips at it, swishing it around her mouth then passes the ss back to Michael, who gulps down the lot. ¡°Tell you what,¡± he says, swinging his legs from the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll go make coffee.¡± ¡°Can I have tea, please,¡± says Charlotte. ¡°I¡¯m a bit dry.¡± ¡°Course you can.¡± He stoops, kisses her, then tugging on a bathrobe, winks at her, nodding her towards me before he exits the room. She looks down to where the sheets are raised in a respectable tent. Eyes dancing, she hooks a finger over the edge of the sheet, pulling it back to where my shaft is making an equally respectable tent pole. Her gaze shifts to mine. I suck in my cheeks and eye-point her back down the bed. She reaches out; a thumb and forefinger poised. The slit is seeping a little, and she dips the pad of finger and thumb in it, rubbing circles, slipping and sliding over the tight hot skin of my cock-head. The sensation is faint, delicate and quite dazzling. With the lightest of touches, she smooths over me, lubricated with my own pre-cum, working magic on every nerve I have. The touch is so soft, so fragile but¡­ unbearable. It sends shooting stars through my groin and¡­ abruptly¡­ down my leg¡­. ¡°Christ!¡± My leg kicks reflexively and Charlotte jerks back, rm on her face. ¡°Did I hurt you, Master?¡± ¡°No.¡± Gasping, Iy a hand on her forearm. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t. It was just too much. I couldn¡¯t stand it. Let¡¯s move to something a little less subtle, shall we.¡± Mischief skips over her face. ¡°As you say, Master.¡± And with that, mouth wide, she engulfs me. One hand squirms between my thighs, kneading my balls. The other rings around the base of my cock. And her mouth takes me in. It feelspletely different; just as exquisitely intense but this time, I can handle it¡­ Just¡­ Oh, God¡­ Her warm wet mouth fastened on me, sucking for all she¡¯s worth, she breaks for air only to draw her tongue along my length. She¡¯s rolling my balls in one hand, first one, then the other, then back again. The other hand is pumping at the base of my erection. If my eyeballs roll any further, I¡¯ll be looking under the bed. It¡¯s fast, skilled,pletely unsubtle and quite explosive. With a yell, I lurch, flop back and shoot. Her mouth envelops me further, still sucking as I pulse another load and another¡­ ¡°Stop, Charlotte. For fuck¡¯s sake stop.¡± She sits up,ughing and wiping a little cum from the corner of her mouth. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to shout, Master. All you had to do was safe-word.¡± The door opens: Michael carrying a tray. He halts, looking between us. ¡°I was less than five minutes. What the fuck did you do to him, Charlotte?¡± ¡°I had him,¡± she chuckles. ¡°He¡¯s a spent force.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fucking count on it,¡± I growl. Michel looks at her askance for this unlikely story, puts down the tray and opens the curtains. The rain ising in sideways,shing against the panes. ¡°The weather¡¯s filthy. How about we call this a morning of rest and watch old movies in bed?¡± ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± ¡°Great idea.¡± ***** Chapter 6 Chapter 6 The old movie turns out to be ¡®Gone with the Wind¡¯. It wouldn¡¯t have been my first choice, but with Charlotte tucked into the crook of Michael¡¯s arm as we watch Scarlet and her antics, I¡¯m not comining. Sitting propped up with pillows, I try to read the news on my tablet, but the movie is oddlypelling. At first, I can¡¯t figure why. Then I realise Michael is watching me. ¡°What?¡± he asks. ¡°Just specting,¡± I say, watching Rhett with his ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly¡­¡± speech, looming over the heroine in good old-fashioned movie style. ¡°Specting about what?¡± ¡°Rhett Butler.¡± I nod to the screen. ¡°Dom?¡± Charlotte¡¯s head swivels. ¡°Master?¡± ¡°Look at him. They didn¡¯t talk about such things in those days, but look at him.¡± ¡°But all the old movie heroes were like that, Master.¡± I chew a lip. ¡°Mmmm. I suppose.¡± Charlotte looks to the screen then, mischief in her eyes, back to me. ¡°He looks a bit like you, Master.¡± ¡°Oh,e on.¡± ¡°No, she¡¯s right,¡± says Michael, wearing a hastily constructed straight face. ¡°He does look a bit like you.¡± Mmmm.¡­ ***** We sit sharing ate lunch. The weather hasn¡¯t improved. It¡¯s cold, windy and the rain is stillshing down. So it¡¯s soup; thick and meaty with dumplings and crusty bread. Food to line the stomach and warm the blood. Michael downs his in swift economical bites. Charlotte polishes off hers then serves herself another half a bowl from the tureen. She regards it solemnly, thendles in more until the bowl is full. How the hell do you stay that shape? Lots of ¡®exercise¡¯¡­ And long may it continue¡­ Michael clears his throat then, ¡°Charlotte, I thought you¡¯d like to know I¡¯ve hired a new trainer for the self-defence sses.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± She spears a dumpling from the serving dish, dropping it into her bowl, hesitates, then adds another. ¡°When does she start?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a man, not a woman. I¡¯m trying him down in the City first, just on a trial period. If it works out I¡¯ll bring him up here to train our high-breddies, perhaps in two or three weeks'' time.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to meeting him.¡± Charlotte runs an eye over her husband. ¡°Are you sure about that outfit?¡± Michael looks down at himself. He''s wearing white cks and shoes and a casual white linen shirt. ¡°No, I''m not. It was Beth''s suggestion for when I¡¯m in the hotel just ying the manager. What do you think?¡± Charlotte looks to me. I cock a brow back. ¡°He¡¯s your husband, not mine.¡± But Michael turns to me too. ¡°What do you think?¡± I take the time to swallow my mouthful. ¡°You look as though you''ve stepped out of an advert for orange juice.¡± He nods, sniffing. ¡°Thought so. I''ll go change back to jeans and a tee-shirt.¡± Charlotte¡¯s lips pucker. ¡°I didn''t say I don''t like it.¡± He raises eyes to heaven. ¡°Make up your mind. Yes or no?¡± ¡°Here at the spa centre, yes. Anywhere else, no. It''s too much.¡± ¡°God save us,¡± he mutters, eyeballing me. ¡°Orange juice?¡± And he stamps off. Rhett Butler, eh? Revenge is a dish best served cold. ¡°Could you pass me the soup dish please, Charlotte.¡± ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago I want to see her. I want to see her¡­ ¡­ to touch her¡­ Surprise her maybe? ***** I press the buzzer. No response¡­ I press again. This time there¡¯s the sound of movement from beyond, the scrape of metal at the peephole, then the door opens. ¡°Larry, I wasn''t expecting you.¡± She¡¯s casually dressed and wears no make-up. T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°I thought I''d surprise you.¡± She doesn¡¯t look entirely pleased. ¡°You don''t mind, do you?¡± ¡°No, of course not.¡± But her voice wavers. ¡°What are you looking at?¡± ¡°I''ve never seen you dressed like that before.¡± She nces down at her in white tee-shirt and cut-off pants. ¡°If you turn up out of the blue, you have to take me as you find me.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± I start tough, but theugh is stillborn That damn ne¡­ I reach, touching the silver butterfly that dangles by the hollow of her neck. Conners¡¯ gift... ¡°I give you emeralds and you''re wearing this fairground trinket?¡± Her hand rises to finger the bauble. ¡°Emeralds are a bit overdone for everyday wear don''t you think?¡± Her voice is t. ¡°This is fine for when I''m out and about wearing just my second-best tiara.¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± I toe at the carpet. ¡°Are you going to invite me in?¡± ¡°Why are you here? I wasn''t due to see you until this evening.¡± ¡°I thought we might go to lunch. There''s rather a nice Italian ce just opened down by....¡± She rubs at her forehead. ¡°Larry, I can''t. I have an appointment in an hour...¡± ¡­ My gut tightens¡­ ¡°¡­ I was just about to get bathed and changed.¡± I watch my own foot, still scuffing at the carpet, apparently of its own volition. ¡°You don''t have to do this, Mitch. I''d take care of you. I have plenty...¡± Her voice remains t. ¡°And what makes you think that¡¯s what I want?¡± ¡°You don''t have to be a whore...¡± Corridor¡­. ¡­ Neighbours¡­ ¡°¡­ Please let mee in. I want to talk with you.¡± Her eyes fall, but she nods, standing the door wide to let me enter. Inside, I close it behind me. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this. You''re too good for it. To keep selling yourself¡­¡± I slide a finger inside my cor, feeling warm. Her colour rising, her voice too¡­ ¡°So, I sell myself to one man instead of many? That¡¯s your answer?¡± ¡°It''s not like that.¡± ¡°Of course it is. The only difference is that instead of having rented myself out, I¡¯d have sold my soul. Larry, this is my living.¡± ¡°What happened to Helsinki? I thought¡­ I thought we¡¯d connected. That there was something¡­¡± ¡°It was wonderful, Larry. It really was, but it¡¯s back to real life now. For both of us.¡± ¡°For both of us? What does that mean? I¡¯m just your client again? If I want to see you I have to pay for your time?¡± ¡°Nooo.¡± She falters. ¡°What then?¡± She starts speaking, then stutters into silence. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°I suppose I¡¯d not thought it through. I don''t want to take money from you, Larry. But I don¡¯t want¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t want what? You think I¡¯m turning up looking for a freebie? Is that it?¡± ¡°No!¡± She backs off, pressing at her temple. ¡°Oh God, I''m confused. It''s suddenly all soplicated.¡± ¡°Why is itplicated, Mitch? What¡¯s changed since we got back?¡± She stands, eyes screwed closed, pressing at her temple. ¡°You and Frank¡­ At first, you were just a couple of guys. You had your fun. You paid me and that was it until next time.¡± She opens her eyes again, looks at me. ¡°Now you''re both getting heavy and...¡± Heavy? Both? ¡°What do you mean? Heavy? Frank''s up to something? What¡¯s he saying?¡± ¡°He keeps... Oh never mind. I don''t know what to do. Maybe I should just stop seeing either of you.¡± No¡­ ¡°No, don''t do that... Mitch, I don¡¯t want to be your client. I... don''t want to fuck you. I want to make love with you. Don''t you want that too? Like it was at Christmas? The two of us?¡± ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t know, won¡¯t you give it a chance? Mitch¡­¡± I reach out, take her by the shoulders. ¡°Mitch, listen. I¡¯m going away at the end of the month. Not for long. Just a few days. Will you give it until then? To try? If it doesn¡¯t work out, that¡¯s fair enough, but at least you¡¯ll know.¡± She¡¯s swallowing hard. ¡°Just to the end of the month? That¡¯s all you¡¯re asking? ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡± Her voice is a whisper. ¡°Alright. Until the end of the month. I¡¯ll try.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± She¡¯s blinking hard and, my hands still on her shoulders, the tremble in her body runs through to mine¡­ It¡¯s so hard for her¡­ ¡­ Why? Why is it so hard? ¡°Larry, would you mind? Go now, please. I have a headache. I¡¯d like to lie down for.¡± ¡°What about your appointment?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll cancel it.¡± Yes! ¡°I¡¯ll see you tonight then?¡± She''s uncertain, hovering. ¡°I can see you tonight?¡± ¡°I think I''d rather just have an early night.¡± ¡°Tomorrow then?¡± ¡°Alright. Tomorrow.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t change your mind?¡± She looks up, looks me in the eye. And finally, she smiles. ¡°No, I won¡¯t change my mind. I¡¯ve said I¡¯ll try. If that¡¯s what you want, then I will.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± I touch her cheek, then carefully, brush my lips over hers. ¡°Until tomorrow then.¡± ¡°Until tomorrow.¡± And I leave her apartment humming. ***** Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Michael Richard waves me to a seat. ¡°All working out with the hotel then, Michael? How''s my investment coming along?¡± ¡°It''s all going pretty well. In fact, I was going to ask if you''re free one day next week.¡± ¡°For?¡± ¡°Foring up to the hotel and meeting the new staff. I''ve been trialling them down at the City Centre, but I''m happy with them now.¡± ¡°All good?¡± ¡°Some.¡± I rock a hand. ¡°I shed a couple who didn''te up to the mark but I''m left with a team I''m very happy with. They''re all multifunctional but specialising in different areas.¡± ¡°Those areas being?¡± ¡°One is a qualified swimming instructor, which means among other things, that we can make visits a full family affair. The parents can bring the kids and there''s someone to keep an eye on them in the pool.¡± ¡°Sounds good. And the others?¡± ¡°One is a chiropractor cum masseur¡­¡± ¡°Which frees up your time...¡± ¡°Exactly. She does aromatherapy too. And the third can take charge of the self-defense sses.¡± ¡°Which frees up Charlotte.¡± ¡°Quite. So, if you would like to, you and Beth can meet them all and maybe you''d like to use the facilities while you''re there?¡± ¡°I''m sure Elizabeth would want to. Massage and aromatherapy would be just the sort of thing she¡¯d enjoy. And of course afterwards, she can tell her friends about it.¡± ¡°I sort of had that in mind myself.¡± ***** N?velDrama.Org content rights. James Michael pours coffee for himself and Charlotte then passes the jug to me. ¡°Charlotte, can you make yourself avable after breakfast for half an hour?¡± ¡°Course I can.¡± She crunches toast. ¡°What am I making myself avable for?¡± ¡°I''d like to introduce you to the new self-defence trainer. The other new staff too when they arrive this afternoon, but him in particr. You can talk him through what you''ve been doing and perhaps give him an overview of the clients. Richard and Beth areing too to meet them all.¡± ¡°Checking up on his investment?¡± I ask. ¡°Yes, but he wants Beth to be active in the project, so I made a point of inviting them. Give her the opportunity to be involved.¡± Charlotte scrapes butter over more toast. ¡°No problem. What''s he called? This trainer?¡± ¡°Charles.¡± She nods, pping marmde over the butter. ¡°And what kind of self-defence does he do? Does he specialise in anything particr? Judo, karate, jiu-jitsu...¡± Michael downs his coffee in two gulps. ¡°He seems to cover the field. If it¡¯s something a woman can use to defend herself, or a man for that matter, he seems happy to teach it.¡± He reaches for the coffeepot. ¡°Certainly the clients in the City have been very happy with him. But his forte is boxing.¡± Charlotte chews on her toast, her brow creasing. ¡°Something wrong?¡± ¡°What does he look like? This Charles the Boxer?¡± ¡°That''s the great thing. Given that the clientele here is mainly female, he''s real eye-candy. Big, blond, blue-eyed strapping guy but I''m almost certain he''s gay, so the women arefortable with him when it has to get physical.¡± His phone beeps and he checks the screen. ¡°Ah,... That''s him arriving now.¡± Charlotte puts down her toast and her gaze travels to mine. ??? ¡°Think I''ll tag along if that''s okay,¡± I say. ¡°Sure.¡± Michael¡¯s smile is sunny. ¡°The more the merrier. Let''s make him wee.¡± Heading for the hotel lobby. Michael steps smartly, but Charlotte hangs back. A man stands waiting, tall, blond, powerfully built. Michael strides forward, hand offered. ¡°Charles, great to see you. Thanks foring.¡± Charles takes the hand with a firm shake. ¡°You too, Michael. I¡¯ve been looking forward to seeing the ce.¡± ¡°Let me introduce you. This is my friend James and my wife, Charlotte.¡± ¡°Nice to meet you, James." He offers his hand, smiling broadly... Instantly likeable¡­ .... then his gaze travels past me to settle on Charlotte and he gapes. ¡°Jenny?¡± Charlotte steps forward from where she has been lurking behind me. ¡°Hello, Chad.¡± She looks down, then at me, then at Michael. ¡°Um, let me introduce you both to my first husband, Chad.¡± Michael, his eyes wild, ¡°Husband?¡± Sheys a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Yes, husband. Hi, Chad. You might like to know that your employer is my second husband.¡± Chad and Michael stand frozen¡­ The book of etiquette is silent on this one¡­ The receptionist is staring¡­ Did no-one teach you manners, girl? Time to take charge¡­ ¡°Gentlemen,¡± I say. ¡°Charlotte¡­ Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?¡± ***** We head for the house. Charles. Chad¡­ says nothing, but as I gesture him through to the lounge, Michael and Charlotte following, he swirls around, gives an apologetic nod to Michael, then sweeps Charlotte into his arms, bear-hugging her. ¡°God, Jenny, you''re here. You''re safe.¡± He swings her back and forth. ¡°I tried so hard to find you before they did, but you just vanished and yet here you are¡­.¡± He stands back, holding her hand, his gaze openly admiring. ¡°And look at you... You look fantastic.¡± Charlotte casts apologetic eyes at Michael then her gaze hovers over mine¡­ She¡¯s tense, picking at her fingernails. Nervous? Of my reaction? Perhaps¡­ ¡­ before she replies. ¡°So do you, Chad. You''ve, um, filled out rather since Ist saw you.¡± Set her mind at rest¡­ I step forward, offering my hand. ¡°I know Michael introduced us before, but it became a bit confused, didn¡¯t it. I¡¯m James. It¡¯s good to see Charlotte finding her old friends again.¡± Charlotte lets out a long breath. Chad tilts his head. ¡°Charlotte? Mmmm¡­ Jenny to me.¡± He turns to Michael. ¡°Do you mind if I have a talk with her? You have any problem with that?¡± Michael havers and I step in. ¡°Of course he doesn¡¯t. He¡¯s just a bit shell-shocked.¡± I give him a re. ¡°He¡¯ll remember his manners soon.¡± Michael stirs uneasily. ¡°Why don¡¯t we give you two a few minutes to yourselves. Chad, tea or coffee?¡± ¡°Tea, please.¡± I hook an arm through Michael¡¯s. ¡°You¡¯re on tea duty. I¡¯ll make the coffee.¡± He scowls but doesn¡¯t resist as I head for the kitchen¡­ Thought I might have to tow him away¡­ In the kitchen, I click the door carefully shut, and equally carefully, keep my face straight. ¡°You¡¯ve pulled a blinder there, my friend...¡± Michael rocks on his heels, arms folded. ¡°I''m not happy about this,¡± he mutters. ¡°Look at the bastard. He¡¯s like a bloody Michngelo statue.¡± ¡°Ten minutes ago you were thrilled that you had a good-looking trainer.¡± ¡°That was then.¡± I p him on the shoulder. ¡°C''mon, get over it. He''s gay. Their marriage failed because they didn''t get past the wedding night.¡± He res from under his brows. ¡°How much of a threat exactly do you think he is to you?¡± ¡°I''m still not happy,¡± he growls. Then he points. ¡°You think this is funny,¡± he uses. And I finally let myugh break loose. ¡°No, I think it''s fucking hysterical. You actually employed not only Charlotte¡¯s ex, but the man who taught her how to box.¡± He res and I look away to hide the grin I can''t suppress. ¡°Look at it this way,¡± I say. ¡°Knowing how well Charlotte can throw a punch when she¡¯s a mind, he must be a fucking brilliant trainer.¡± ***** Chapter 8 Chapter 8 As we return carrying trays and pots and mugs, the two barely notice us. They¡¯re sitting across the table from each other, arms outstretched, their fingertips touching. Michael glowers. Oh, c¡¯mon¡­ They¡¯re old friends¡­ ¡°When you said, I''m here and safe,¡± Charlotte is saying, ¡°what did you mean?¡± His mouth works¡­. Choosing his words? ¡°After you left the farm, a man came looking for you, a police officer, or he imed to be...¡± ¡°Yes, Tom told me that.¡± ¡°Tom? You''ve seen Tom?¡± ¡°Yes, it turns out he was spying for the people who sent me there.¡± Chad¡¯s head jerks back. ¡°Was he indeed? The Blessingmoors people?¡± She nods, her face falling. ¡°Jenny¡­¡± He slides his hand over hers. ¡°It''s alright. When the news broke about that ce, all the pieces suddenly fit together¡­¡± He stops speaking suddenly, looking at me and Michael, then back to Charlotte. ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± she says. ¡°They know it all. Both of them.¡± Chad gazes at us, nodding slowly, thoughtfully, then continues. "I always knew there was something you were frightened of. When it came out about Blessingmoors, it suddenly made sense but.... Tom was spying on you for them? I can hardly believe..." ¡°He confessed to it. He did it because they were ckmailing him. They had his little sister¡­¡± I nudge Michael with an elbow. ¡°I think we should give them some privacy,¡± I murmur. He grunts, as sour-faced as I¡¯ve ever seen him, but follows me out of the room. ¡°Are you going to grow up?¡± I hiss, once we are out in the hall. ¡°And you¡¯re happy about it, I suppose?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯m happy. In fact, I¡¯m delighted for her. Don¡¯t you think she¡¯s entitled to have friends other than just you and me?¡± ¡°I suppose¡­¡± ***** When we return half an hourter, Charlotte and Chad areughing and joking. As we enter, he grins, waving casually in Michel¡¯s direction. ¡°I didn''t make the connection. Michael here mentioned he was married, but he called you Charlotte.¡± He slips a sly look her way. ¡°Charlotte, eh?¡± She blushes. ¡°Alright, alright. So I named myself after a horse. I''ve been through that one with Tom. Don¡¯t you start bending my ear about it¡­¡± He turns away to hide his grin. "Still get to ride at all?" ¡°No, it''s not something I''ve had a chance to do since I left the farm.¡± ¡°Really? That''s a shame. That''s how I fell in love with you, you know.¡± He nces Michael¡¯s way, then back to Charlotte. ¡°Until then, I thought we were just friends, but that day I saw you, riding Charlie, I thought I¡¯d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.¡± She sniffs and rubs her nose. ¡°Given what followed,¡± she says, her voice tight, ¡°what am I supposed to do with that information?¡± He leans back in his seat. ¡°I don''t me you. And you''ll always be Jenny to me.¡± His gaze shifts to Michael. ¡°Don''t read anything into this. Marrying Jenny was both the best and the worst thing I ever did. And she was not responsible for anything that followed from it. I was.¡± He sucks in his cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you do know what happened between us?¡± ¡°That your marriage didn¡¯t work out? Yes, I know.¡± ¡°Then hopefully you understand that I am so happy to find that she is safe and well. And that she has a home and a husband. We¡¯re old friends and I¡¯m hoping that can continue.¡± Michael, arms across his chest, nods, but the gesture is short and grudging. Chad considers him for a long moment. ¡°So, what about this trainer¡¯s position? Am I out of a job?¡± ¡°I think that would be most unfair,¡± I say. Michael jerks a look at me, but I continue. ¡°It can only be a good thing for Charlotte to be reunited with her old friends.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pleased to hear it.¡± Chad watches Michael spectively, then turns back to Charlotte. ¡°So you''ve kept it up? The boxing? Or have you letfort and safety move to that spreading ass of yours?¡± Her eyes narrow. ¡°Want to find out?¡± ¡°I think I do.¡± Michael stirs¡­ Trouble brewing? ¡°Let''s head for the gym,¡± I suggest. ¡°The whole point of the meeting today was for old and new trainers to settle in together¡­¡± As we head back to the hotel, Charlotte twists, trying to look over her own shoulder, then leans close. ¡°Am I getting a fat bottom?¡± ¡°Only in a good way.¡± ***** In the gym, in joggers and vests, the pair circle each other. He¡¯s taller than her by several inches, muscr, broad-shouldered and with not an ounce of spare on him¡­ How long since shest saw him? Six or seven years? He would have been almost a boy then¡­ But for all Chad¡¯s size, he¡¯s light on his feet, graceful. Easy to see what she saw in him¡­ And he strikes, his arm sweeping forward to snatch at her. But she blocks it, then swings with a foot to hook around his ankle. He spins, throwing her, but she rolls and in a single smooth movement is once more on her feet, feinting with her right hand then punching with her left¡­ ¡°She certainly has her own style,¡± Iment, watching Michael side-long. He rumbles. I can¡¯t pick out the words, but a blue whale somewhere across the ocean probably heard him. ¡­ Chad has her down, his weight bearing on her, but she locks her arms up against his chest then, twisting, gets first one foot, then the other under him, kicking hard. He jerks away and back, and my groin flinches in sympathy¡­ ¡­ and she¡¯s up and punching. He¡¯s blocking, parrying then jabbing back¡­ Are either of them pulling their punches? Not sure¡­ Jammed into my back pocket, my phone vibes. It''s Richard. Just arrived. Where r u? Gym. Move ur ass. U gotta c this As I turn my attention back to the mats, he has her down again. This time, she tries to lock, but he nudges her elbows open and his weight drops over her¡­ He¡¯s got her¡­ If it were real¡­ A hand drops onto Chad¡¯s shoulder. Michael pulls him upright, his voice mild. ¡°Shall we see how you handle yourself with someone nearer your own size?¡± Chad¡¯s reply iszy. ¡°I think we might.¡± Charlotte scrambles upright, about to protest, but I jab a finger at her¡­ ¡°Charlotte!¡±¡­ and point to the spot next to me. She demurs but I stab at the spot and this time she obeys, scowling as she moves to me. ¡°Master¡­¡± she hisses. ¡°We''ve got to stop them. They''ll hurt each other.¡± I cut her off. ¡°If you think I''m getting between those two, you are much mistaken. Let them get it out of their systems. You¡¯ll have no peace until they settle it.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s stupid¡­¡± ¡°Yes, it is. Nheless¡­¡± Two faces appear at the ss panel, peer in and then the doors swing open. Richard enters, Beth right behind him. He shes brows at me then frowns, nodding across to where Chad and Michael are squaring up. ¡°What''s going on?¡± ¡°They¡¯re setting up for a practice spar.¡± Beth sucks a lip, wide-eyed, visibly gauging Chad. ¡°Oh, my. He¡¯s something, isn¡¯t he¡­¡± Richard gives her an amused nce. ¡°Who is he?¡± T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°That is Chad, Charlotte''s first husband.¡± Beth¡¯s jaw drops and Richard¡¯s head swings to look at Chad as though it¡¯s on ball-bearings. ¡°What the hell¡¯s he doing here?¡± ¡°Michael employed him as the self-defence instructor.¡± A grin like a rising sun washes over his face. ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± ¡°Nope. It¡¯s alle out in thest hour or so when he and Charlotte set eyes on each other.¡± ¡°And Michael¡­?¡± ¡°¡­. doesn''t like it one bit.¡± Across the floor, the two, fists raised, circle each other. Michael tries an experimental jab. Chad jerks back then retaliates, grazing past his opponent¡¯s cheekbone. Richard is adding up the pieces. ¡°So, that¡¯s the man who taught Charlotte to fight?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°I hope Michael knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°Not so sure about that¡­¡± Michaelnds a punch, catching Chad on the shoulder, then jolts back as Chad nts his knuckles squarely on his chin. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they be wearing gloves?¡± asks Beth. ¡°Yes, they should,¡± hisses Charlotte. ¡°They¡¯ll hurt themselves and each other like that.¡± She moves closer, her body reacting as fists swing and blowsnd. They''re well matched. Around the same height, both heavily built, Michael perhaps more so, but then Chad is younger. Richard sidles close, his lips barely moving as he speaks. ¡°Do you think they see it, either of them? Or Charlotte?¡± I speak equally quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Beth creases a brow. ¡°See what?¡± Richard slides me a look, lips twitching, then says, ¡°Elizabeth, look at them.¡± She turns, nk-faced, watching. Richard and I watch her¡­ Then she spots it. ¡°Ooohhh¡­¡± ¡°I wouldn''t have missed this for my own funeral,¡± chuckles Richard. ¡°You got it, Beth?¡± I ask. She raises a knuckle to her mouth, biting back theughter. ¡°So, when Charlotte¡¯s first marriage didn¡¯t work out because he was gay,¡± murmurs Richard, ¡°¡­ the man she married second time around was a straight clone of the first¡­¡± He presses fingers to his forehead, shaking with suppressedughter. Charlotte turns. ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡± We both wipe the smiles from our faces. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± She¡¯s not fooled. Giving us a suspicious look, she turns away again. ¡°You going to say anything?¡± says Richard from the corner of his mouth. ¡°Not if my life depended on it.¡± But Beth looks askance at us, then sashays across to Charlotte, saying something quiet. After a moment, Charlotte raises a hand to her mouth, turns and stares at where Chad isnding a blow that would fell a rhino. We must have missed Michael¡¯s punch on him because blood is flowing freely down his face, leaving a trail of droplets on the mats. Both men are running with sweat, red-faced and heaving. The doors swing open again and a stranger enters. Slim and with Latino good looks, he says, ¡°Excuse me, but I¡¯m looking for Charles. Is he¡­?¡± Then his eye follows our pointing fingers and his mouth falls open. ¡°What the hell is he doing?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, ¡°but you are¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Sebastian.¡± He thumbs towards the blood-streaked Chad. ¡°Charles¡¯ husband.¡± Richard bends over double, shaking and hugging his ribs with one arm, the free hand waving helplessly. Sebastian stares at him then, ¡°What the fuck¡¯s going on here?¡± he demands. ¡°He told me this was the introduction to a new job. Not a beat-the-shit-out-of-each-other session.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± I let out a breath. ¡°It¡¯splicated. You could start by asking who that is...¡± I level a finger towards Charlotte. He shoots a nce at her. ¡°Alright, who is she?¡± ¡°She was Chad¡¯s first¡­¡± My words stumble¡­ ¡°¡­ partner¡­¡± He zes. ¡°That¡¯s Jenny? The girl he married?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He thumbs at Michael. ¡°And he is¡­?¡± ¡°Jenny¡¯s second husband.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± He throws the look that spoke a thousand words to thebatants. ¡°I think I detect a pattern here.¡± He inclines a little to me. ¡°Thank you for your assistance. Please excuse me¡­¡± ¡°¡­ My pleasure¡­¡± ¡­. And he bee-lines Charlotte, who turns to him with a puzzled expression. After a muttered conversation, the light of understanding radiates over her face. They exchange a few more words, nod and then, as one, march across to the battling pair. ¡°That is enough!¡± ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re ying at?¡± Richard reappears at my side, wiping streaming eyes. ¡°Oh, God. If it wasn¡¯t free, I¡¯d have paid to see it.¡± Michael and Chad turn to face the oing storm. Michael staggers. Chad weaves uncertainly. Beth taps a toe. ¡°You think that¡¯ll have washed the scent of battle from the air?¡± ***** Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Back in the house, Michael sits by the kitchen table, Charlotte dabbing at a cut on his face with a cloth. Noticeably, she¡¯s not making a lot of effort to be careful about it and he winces as she nurses him with ungentle hands. One eye is swollen and rapidly closing. The other will be a wonderful colour by tomorrow. Chad is no better, gushing blood from both nostrils. Sebastian has him leaning over the sink and is pressing a bag of crushed ice to the bridge of his nose. ¡°You stupid bastard. What the fuck do you think you were doing?¡± ¡°We were only¡­¡± Chad¡¯s voice is muffled against the bag hanging by his face and has a nasal twang. ¡°I know what you were ¡®only¡¯¡­ I could smell the fucking testosterone.¡± Sebastian sounds furious, but as he speaks, his eyes lift to Charlotte¡¯s and they exchange smirks. ¡°Was there a point to this?¡± she says to Michael. ¡°Something to be achieved?¡± Her tone is acid. ¡°You have a face like strawberry jam gone bad.¡± Richard, Beth and I each perch on stools by the breakfast bar, taking in the circus. ¡°Drink?¡± I murmur. ¡°A ss of red would be good,¡± says Richard. ¡°I¡¯ll have one too,¡± says Beth. I pour the wine, adding a couple more sses and cing one each by Charlotte and Sebastian. Then I slice up a Brie and pass it around with a few crackers. ***** Wounds tended, Chad and Michael take seats on opposite sides of the kitchen table. I sip wine and help myself to a morsel of cheese. Charlotte, Sebastian and Beth have formed some kind of gossip group and appear to be exchanging notes¡­ I don¡¯t want to know¡­ N?velDrama.Org content rights. Richard presses a cracker to the te, mopping up crumbs. ¡°Do you have any more of that excellent Brie, James?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s thest of it, but there¡¯s a Camembert? Or I have a Stilton in therder I was thinking of opening up.¡± ¡°Excellent idea. But don¡¯t you think that Tempranillo would be overwhelmed by Stilton?¡± ¡°Good point. I¡¯ll fetch a bottle of port.¡± After a while, Michael says, ¡°Do you feel as stupid as I do?¡± ¡°I''d say so. Probably, yes.¡± Chad looks around at the audience. ¡°You got it out of your system?¡± Michael sps hands on the table. ¡°Yeah¡­.¡± Then he looks around too. A smile cracks over his face and he winces as his upper lip begins to bleed again. ¡°Maybe if we talk to each other, they''ll talk to us?¡± The pair swing to Charlotte and Sebastian, his face impassive, hers frosty. ¡°Maybe they will.¡± Michael stands, limping to the fridge. ¡°Beer?¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± ***** ¡°Why don¡¯t we start this again?¡± I suggest. ¡°I think it¡¯s established that Chad can well teach self-defence at any level that will be needed here. So why don¡¯t we say that¡¯s all settled and you twoe over for Sunday lunch?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± says Chad. ¡°Seb?¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± ¡°Excellent,¡± I say. ¡°Beth, Richard. Will you join us on Sunday? I think Charlotte would enjoy having her growing family all around her.¡± Richard beams. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t miss it.¡± ***** ¡°Growing family?¡± mutters Michael, when all are out of earshot. ¡°Family matters. I think Chad qualifies as family for Charlotte, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not trying to manipte events are you?¡± ¡°Would I?¡± ¡°Yes, you fucking would. You¡¯ve done it often enough before now.¡± I maintain the silence of the wise man. ***** Charlotte Sunday arrives. Sebastian steps out from the driver¡¯s seat, reaching for a bag which clinks as he moves. Chad exits from the other side, stepping forward, hand outstretched. ¡°Michael, thanks so much for the invitation. I really appreciate it¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡± ¡°James, great to see you.¡± They shake. ¡°Charlotte¡­¡± He turns, giving me a peck on the cheek and a light hug on the shoulders, then he sniffs the air. ¡°Smells great. Who¡¯s the cook?¡± I nod towards my Master. ¡°James. But I helped.¡± He cocks a brow. ¡°What kind of help?¡± ¡°Well, I peeled the potatoes and the carrots.¡± ¡°Thought so.¡± He grins to Michael. ¡°Her cooking¡¯s okay, but you wouldn¡¯t want to live on it, would you?¡± Before I can react, he jerks his head to the back of the car. ¡°Got something for you.¡± Chad opens the trunk to lift out a battered cardboard box. ¡°This is yours. It''s books mainly but there''s some other stuff too.¡± The box is dusty, cobwebby, crushed at the corners and copsing at the base. Tight loops of packing tape wind around it in all directions. With a fingertip, I trace a line over the gritty top. ¡°You kept it all this time?¡± ¡°After you left, I went back to my parents for a while. You didn¡¯t take much with you, but there were some of your things left with Mrs Collier I reckoned you would want if you could. I brought it with me to the City to make sure my mother didn¡¯t have her way with it.¡± He hefts the box against his chest. ¡°It¡¯s pretty mucky. I¡¯ll carry it. Where would you like it?¡± ¡°Um¡­ the lounge is fine for now. Come on through.¡± My Master vanishes briefly, reappearing with an old towel, one we use for cleaning boots,ying it on the table, then as Chad ces the box on top, he passes me a knife before standing back a little by Michael. Sebastian sort-of fades into the background. ¡°I¡¯ll just wait,¡± he says. ¡°Personal stuff. Y¡¯know¡­¡± The four of them watch as I slit ancient tape and the box sags and falls apart. ***** Chapter 10 Chapter 10 James Books. What¡¯s new? She¡¯s consistent¡­ ¡®Principles of Geology¡¯ by Charles Lyell - well-thumbed, ¡®The Merchant of Venice¡¯, ¡®Marvels of Pond Life¡¯ by Henry ck - very dog-eared¡­ The list goes on and the only thing any of the texts have in common is that they all look well-used. A second-hand bookstore would describe them as slightly foxed, but it looks as though the bears, the boars and the badgers have been at them too. She stacks them in a neat pile, then rummages¡­ Some odds and ends of jewellery; cheap stuff, yellowed with age but seeming little-handled¡­ A rock. ¡°Oh!¡± She smiles as it weighs in her hands. Michael gives me a ¡®wtf?¡¯ look and I shrug. Chad sees our expressions and smiles, then moves to stand close by Michael. He murmurs, ¡°You¡¯d better be ready. She¡¯ll probably get pretty emotional soon.¡± Michael shoots him a nce, then nods. The rock seems to be just that; a rock, prettily striped in green and red, polished to a smooth round.. Curiosity gets the better of me. ¡°Charlotte?¡± She almost caresses the pebble and when she looks up, her eyes are full¡­ ¡°Tell meter,¡± I say. She separates out a book, a heavy volume, leather-bound, old looking. Her eyes lift to Michael, then me, and she chews at her lips. Sliding a finger to the pages, she lifts, and the book falls open on¡­ Flowers? Yes, pressed flowers; dainty, delicate their colours faded, but recognisable as violets. Chad leans forward, looking close. ¡°Are those what I think they are?¡± Her gaze flickers back between me and Michael. ¡°Yes, they¡¯re the ones you gave me, that first day.¡± She lifts them free from the page, sliding a fingernail under to ease them from the paper. ¡°Chad and I were still at school. He picked them for me, from the hedgerow. Mrs Collier showed me how to keep them.¡± Michael shifts by me¡­ Trouble brewing? Plenty of flowers around here to pick¡­ You could have given them to her any time¡­ Chad pulls up a chair and sits beside her. ¡°Jenny, sit down would you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. Thank you, Chad, so much, for bringing these. For keeping them so long.¡± She¡¯s smiling, radiating almost, as shebs through the box. ¡°Really, Jenny. Please sit. Please.¡± Chad tilts his chin to Michael, then to me, eye-pointing chairs close by. Something in his tone prates. Her smile fades. Michael and I sit, he next to her.N?velDrama.Org content rights. What¡¯sing¡­? ¡°Jenny¡­¡± Chad¡¯s voice is gentle. ¡°These aren¡¯t the only things of yours I have.¡± He reaches for an inside pocket, plucking out an envelope, offering it to her. ¡°It''s from Mr Kalkowski to you.¡± She stares at the letter, eyes glossing. Is she going to copse? Then she drops into the chair. ¡°He posted it but it never reached you. I was trying to find you. I picked it up from your old apartment.¡± He pulls his seat closer. ¡°Jenny, I was with him at the end, in the hospital. Almost hisst words were for me to give you his love when I found you again. I didn''t tell him you''d not received his letter, but I kept it so I could give it to you if I ever could.¡± ¡°Aren''t you going to take it?¡± I say. ¡°Read it?¡± She reaches out, her fingers trembling, takes it, then stands, retreating to a corner, turning her back to all of us. The envelope rips, and she stands head bowed, soundless, as she reads. I meet eyes with Michael, then with Chad. ¡°Charlotte?¡± Her head still low, there''s a sob. Then another, echoing around the otherwise silent room. As one, the three of us stride forward, then Chad, flushing, backs away again, gesturing Michael to her. He tries to take her in his arms but she brushes him away. Tears streaming down her face, ¡°I went back to the farm once, that first Christmas. But no one would talk to me. They just said you''d left and Mr Kalkowski had died. They wouldn''t even let me in.¡± ¡°That man, the one who said he was a policeman, he came looking for you. He told everyone you were wanted for theft and fraud.¡± ¡°I never did that. Never!¡± ¡°Whoa!¡± Chad holds up his palms. ¡°I believe you. But my mother believed him, or wanted to. And she poisoned everyone against you. Except for Mrs Collier. And Mr Kalkowski of course.¡± He smiles, ces his hand over hers. ¡°He was so proud of you, you know. Tell me, did you make it to university?¡± ¡°I did, yes.¡± ¡°Geology? Astronomy?¡± ¡°Physics, but I changed to engineering.¡± ¡°Engineering? What brought that on?¡± I interrupt. ¡°Charlotte¡­ Is the letter¡­ From your old friend¡­ Does it say the things you would have hoped it would say? She gives me a startled nce, then smiles, nods and offers it to me. I read it then pass it to Michael. My Dearest Jenny, As I sit to write this, I have just learned of and am still assimting the facts of the Blessingmoors scandal which has just been released to the newspapers. And now, so much about you which was unsaid is clear to me. I could have wished that you felt able to confide in me but, given what I am reading, I understand why you did not. And so young as you are, I now understand also why you were so reluctant to leave your life here, with the safety and shelter it must have represented to you. I hope and pray that you are now freed from the shackles of your past and of the memories that go with it. I can say from my own life experience that such memories never leave you, but they do with time, cease to control us and our actions. The loss of you to the world was my gain. It has been my honour to be your teacher and my privilege to be your friend. I hope we will meet again when times are happier for you and your life more certain. s, I am not young and am finding life a little more difficult with each day that passes. I wish you everything you ever hoped for or dreamed of, and the very happiest of lives. Your ever loving friend, Levi Kalkowski Michael gazes at the letter, then passes it to Chad. ¡°What did he mean,¡± he asks, ¡°about his own experiences?¡± ¡°He¡¯d left his old country, years before, toe here. Just him and his wife. He never really told me about it. But it was clear that he''d lived through bad times.¡± Chad perches on the table beside her. ¡°Jenny, are you still mad at me?¡± Sebastian looks over his shoulder, then turns away with an overly obvious show of disinterest. Sheys her hand on his. ¡°No, not anymore.¡± She stares into space for a moment then, ¡°I''ll admit it wasn''t always like that. There were times that if you''d been standing in front of me, I would have punched your face in, but that''s long gone.¡± Heughs, but the sound is rueful. ¡°I''m pleased to hear it. I would have felt morally bound to let you land the punch.¡± The doorbell rings. Perfect timing¡­ Lighten the mood¡­ ¡°That will be Beth and Richard,¡± I announce. ¡°Michael, Charlotte, why don¡¯t you answer the door. Chad, Sebastian, what can I get you to drink?¡± Sebastian offers the bag he brought in. ¡°Got red and white here.¡± ¡°Perfect,¡± then I listen to the noises from the hall. Michael¡¯s voice: ¡°Beth, Richard. Lovely to see you. Charlotte, do you want to take their coats¡­¡± I turn to Chad. ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal with the rock?¡± He lifts a finger. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s another Mr Kalkowski story¡­.¡± ***** Chapter 11 Chapter 11 I¡¯m crossing the floor of the lobby, thinking about the ongoing groundworks of D-site and trying to decide whether to tackle the east or the west side first. I¡¯m not truly paying attention to my surroundings. ¡°Morning, Kirstie.¡± ¡°Good morning Mr Alexanders.¡± *Jab elevator panel* Laynd drains first to the east side? Enable ess via the west? Or wait for the circr route to connect from the bridge? Where¡¯s that damn lift? ¡­ ¡­ Reverse mental gears¡­. Kirstie¡­ Too much make-up¡­ Swollen eyes¡­ Trying not to be too obvious about it, I turn to take a better look at her. Even from the rear¡­ ¡­ slumping in her seat¡­ Not like her¡­ The elevator bings, but I ignore it, strolling back to the desk. ¡°Kirstie, is everything alright?¡± ¡°I''m fine, Mr Alexanders. Thank you for asking.¡± N?velDrama.Org content rights. She''s painted on her business face, but as she speaks, she doesn¡¯t look at me, keeping her eyes turned down. One thing I like about Kirstie is that she looks you in the eye¡­ Usually¡­ I take her chin in thumb and forefinger. ¡°I expect you to look at me when I speak, Ms Jamieson...¡± But I cut myself short. Under the makeup she''s caked on, her eyes are puffy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°No, you''re not. You look terrible. Is it something I can help with?¡± ¡°No sir, it''s... personal¡­¡± I wait, giving her a silence to fill. A flush rises up her neck, vanishing under the makeup line before it hits her face. ¡°My sister, Erin is falling out with Ben....¡± Not Ben again¡­. He really doesn''t have the hang of people¡­ Why would that upset Kirstie so much? ¡°... so I have her crying on my shoulder and Ryan...¡± She stalls. ¡°Yes? Ryan¡­?¡± Staring down at her desktop, ¡°Nothing.¡± I wait a little longer, but no more is forting. Not my business if she doesn¡¯t want to share it¡­ ¡°Would you like to go home? I''ll find a stand-in for you if you do.¡± ¡°No, sir. I''d rather be at work.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± ***** Half an hourter, Francis pops her head around my office door. ¡°James, I have Kirstie on from downstairs. She''s asking if you could spare her a few minutes sometime today? She sounds upset.¡± Aaahhh¡­ ¡°She cane up now if she wants to. Can you make coffee for two, please.¡± ¡°Of course, James.¡± Francis fixes a gimlet eye on me. Trying to decide if I¡¯m the cause of Kirstie¡¯s upset? ***** In less than five minutes, there is a timid tap at my door. I left it standing open, but she knocks anyway. ¡°Come in, Kirstie.¡± She enters, still with her face down. ¡°Thank you for making the time to see me, Mr Alexanders.¡± Francis brings the coffee, but as she leaves, I close the door behind her. ¡°Kirstie, we¡¯re friends. And I have the feeling this is a ¡®James¡¯ moment, not a ¡®Mr Alexanders¡¯ moment.¡± Head hanging, she nods, winding her fingers together. What now? I¡¯m no fucking good at this sort of thing¡­ ¡°Why don¡¯t you sit down. Start at the beginning, whatever it is.¡± I gesture to the chair opposite mine over my desk¡­ Nope¡­ Wrong¡­ ¡­ then correct myself, instead waving her across to the low seating by the coffee table, overlooking the Cityscape. She sits, sniffs and gulps, then hoots into a handkerchief. I sit opposite her, pour the coffee, try to make myself busy while she gets her act together. Should I call Charlotte? ¡­ but Kirstie starts speaking¡­ ¡°The thing is... You''re a Dom, Charlotte''s Dom and... and there¡¯s Michael of course. You always seem so happy together. And, well, you''ve been doing this for years...¡± As she knows¡­ Her eyes nt up to mine... How we met¡­ A threesome at the Club¡­ ¡°... And you know the rules. How it works. You really get it.¡± ¡°Get it?¡± ¡°I mean, you really understand the Dom/sub rtionship.¡± I begin to see where this might be going. Ryan¡­ She dries up again. I try a gentle prompt. ¡°So?¡± ¡°Ryan... He''s new to this. He... He thinks he''spletely in charge and that I should...¡± ¡°Kirstie, you are not required to do anything you are unwilling to; that you haven''t agreed to. That''s not the rules of the game. If something upsets you, or if you find it distasteful¡­ you¡¯re the sub. You set the limits.¡± ¡°I know that and you know that, but Ryan... Could you maybe talk to him? Exin things?¡± ¡°You want me to interfere in the rtionship between a Dom and his sub? That''s quite an ask, Kirstie.¡± Miserably, she nods. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Can you tell me what he is requiring that upsets you?¡± She swallows, squirming. ¡°It''s...¡± But her words dry up. Crucified with embarrassment. ¡°Are we discussing everyday life here, Kirstie? Or are we in sexual territory?¡± And she starts crying again, tears running furrows through what¡¯s left of her make-up. Ah, fuck¡­. Weeping women¡­ Francis? No¡­ I lean forward, elbows on knees. ¡°Come on Kirstie. Considering how you and I met, there can''t be too many taboos in what we can say to each other.¡± Scarlet-faced and sweating, she says, ¡°He gets off on having sex in public...¡± ¡°So the clubs are just right for him. He can be as exhibitionist as he¡­¡± ¡°No, I mean really in public. Parking lots, elevators. ces we could be caught. He''s careful, but...¡± ¡°So¡­ if he''s taking you too far, you simply safe-word.¡± She looks up and her eyes red-rimmed, meet mine. ¡°He gets angry...¡± Shit¡­ ¡°Kirstie, a safe word that can''t be used isn''t a safe word.¡° ¡°I know that, but he doesn''t understand. He thinks¡­ James, you and Charlotte have been together for a while. Was there ever a time, maybe in your early days when¡­?¡± Her hand rises to her mouth as though cutting her own question short. ¡°Sorry,¡± she mumbles. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have¡­¡± Do I answer that? Is it appropriate? ¡°Yes, there was.¡± Her eyes shift to mine. ¡°There was a time¡­ I knew all the rules too, but I¡­ I let my passions run away with me and I over-reacted. Very badly.¡± Owl-eyed, ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°She left me.¡± ¡°But you got her back.¡± ¡°Demonstrably. But I needed Michael¡¯s help too to achieve it. And it only happened after I¡­¡± My throat tightens. No more¡­ I lean back in my seat, cup in hand, take a swallow. I like Kirstie. She¡¯s a delightful girl. And she doesn¡¯t deserve an ipetent Dom. ¡°Aside from this, are you happy with Ryan? You get on together?¡± ¡°Oh yes. He''s.. he''s wonderful.¡± She nods vigorously, and the pearl dangling at her neck trembles with the movement. His cor on her¡­ ¡°And he...¡± ¡­ Oh¡­ God¡­. Is there a non-embarrassing way of asking? No... Spit it out¡­ ¡°... Is he good in bed? You get along okay sexually?¡± Andughter fills her puffed-up eyes. ¡°James, he''s incandescent.¡± Despite myself, I smile at her enthusiasm. Perhaps I should know more? Or maybe not. ¡°I''m pleased to hear it. Let me think about it, Kirstie. I have a meeting with Ryanter this week about some work he''s doing for us...¡± ¡°He has the contract then?¡± A smile ghosts over her lips. Damn. Let the cat out of the bag¡­ ¡°He does, but you don''t tell him.¡± I level a finger at her. ¡°That''s my job.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Her smile builds a bit. She¡¯s pleased for him¡­ She loves him¡­ ¡°After we¡¯ve had the main meeting, I¡¯ll have a word with him. See if I can set him on the right path.¡± ¡°What will you say?¡± I scrape a hand over my head. ¡°I have no idea.¡± I cast her a look. ¡°People rarely ask me to mediate. It¡¯s not considered one of my talents¡­¡± And she, finally, bursts into a realugh. ¡°¡­ Anyway, I''ll try to talk with him on your behalf. Fair enough?¡± ¡°Fair enough. Thank you, James.¡± ¡°Now, blow your nose, fix your make-up and go back to your desk.¡± ¡°Yes, Mr Alexanders. ¡° ***** Chapter 12 Chapter 12 Richard Sitting by me at the conference table, James runs a finger along the outline of a n for D-Site. ¡°So, if weplete the groundworks on sectors three and four here¡­ by next week, we can move the heavy machinery on to sector five here and startying the infrastructure for¡­¡± Outside the office, Francis¡¯ phone rings but neither of us takes much notice. James continues speaking¡­ ¡°¡­ the electricity and the water supply¡­¡± Francis taps in perfunctory manner on the door then pokes her head round. ¡°James¡­¡± She flicks a warning nce to me¡­ Worried? James looks up. ¡°Yes, Francis?¡± ¡°Kirstie is on the line. She says you have a visitor downstairs.¡± Not his ex again..? It upset him enough the first time¡­ James¡¯ straightens up in his chair, his chin tilting. ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°She says she''s called Georgie and that you would know who she is.¡± James rises from his seat as though he is on strings. ¡°Tell her I''m on my way down.¡± He looks as close to flustered as I have ever seen him. ¡°Richard, my apologies. Can we put this on hold for a few minutes¡­ Georgie is my daughter. I¡¯ve not seen her for¡­¡± ¡°James, I know who Georgie is. And of course, you must attend to her.¡± ¡°Thank you, Richard. Francis, would you make a pot of tea please and um, are there any of those malted biscuits? They were always her favourites.¡± ¡°Of course, James.¡± Her voice is brisk and professional, but her back turning to him, Francis breaks into a delighted grin, winking at me as she heads for the coffee machine. James moves from one foot to the other as he waits for the elevator, then steps smartly inside as the doors swish open. ***** James Georgie is there, waiting in the lobby, chatting with Kirstie. The two areughing, Kirstie nodding her head as though at some joke. The pearl on that velvet choker she wears bobs with the movement. And my daughter... My beautiful daughter¡­ She¡¯s dressed smart-casual, in well-cut pants and a long-line leather jacket that enhances her height. Her long dark hair is tied back and up, and her make-up is just enough to do its work; mascara to enhance her dark eyes and a touch of colour on the lips¡­ You look great¡­ Taking care of yourself¡­ ¡°Georgie! It''s wonderful to see you...¡± Do I hug her? ¡°Hi Dad.¡± She smiles but seems uncertain. No hugs then¡­ It¡¯s been so long¡­ Does she think I''ll be angry with her? ¡°Come on up. You must be cold. Let''s go upstairs. Get a warm drink inside you.¡± In the lift she doesn''t say much, but then, lifts are always awkward ces to talk. As the doors open to the directors¡¯ floor, Francis is spooning tea into a pot, filling a milk jug. I gesture Georgie to my office. She wanders around inside then stands, arms folded, looking out over the panorama. ¡°Nice view,¡± she comments. ¡°Nice office.¡± ¡°Director¡¯s privileges.¡± Something coils inside me. ¡°Sit down, Georgie. Make yourselffortable. Let me take your coat.¡± She sits but doesn¡¯t remove her jacket. Her eye wanders my office again then settles on my desk. ¡°You have my photo.¡± ¡°Did you think I wouldn''t?¡± ¡°It''s a bit old.¡± ¡°It''s the only one I have. Your mother kept all the family memorabilia.¡± Francis knocks then bustles in with a tray. ¡°Malted milk as you asked, James.¡± ¡°Thank you, Francis.¡± I bustle, stirring the tea, pouring a little milk into the cups, then push the te of biscuits to Georgie. She pushes the te back. ¡°I don¡¯t eat biscuits, Dad. Empty calories¡­¡± She pats a lean hip. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t do you any harm. You inherited my shape.¡± She nods at that, but the movement is awkward. ¡°So¡­¡± I hand her cup and saucer¡­ ¡°PhD now. Congrattions.¡± She shifts in her seat. ¡°Sorry I didn''t invite you to the graduation. You know how it is. Having you and Mom in the same room.¡± ¡°I believe I could have coped. I would have liked toe. To see my little girl all grown up, ready to take on the world.¡± She shoots me a look like a de. ¡°I meant Mom. She didn¡¯t cope well when you left her the way you did.¡± Christ... Here we go again. ¡°Why don''t we talk about something else than your mother.¡± ¡°You don''t want to know how she is?¡± ¡°I saw her recently. She came here.¡± ¡°To see you?¡± ¡°To ask for money. You didn''t know?¡± Georgie doesn¡¯t meet my eye. ¡°She''s in trouble, Dad.¡± ¡°Georgie, whatever your mother told you, I left her with plenty of money. And she was the one who wanted out of the marriage. Not me. At least not until I realised she had a lov¡­ Someone else.¡± Her eye drops to my left hand. Heat in her eyes, ¡°You''re married now? But you didn''t invite me to the wedding? What''s the difference?¡± ¡°I couldn''t invite you. It''s...plicated.¡± ¡°Is that right?¡± She takes a sip of the tea then puts the cup down. ¡°Mom tells me you''re doing well. Big important job.¡± She waves a hand over the room.¡± Big important office.¡± So you did know¡­ ¡°It''s good work and I enjoy it.¡± ¡°And you''re well paid too. Richard Haswell''s co-director.¡± My gut churns. ¡°Yes, it''s well paid.¡± ¡°But you can''t help Mom? Or you won''t help her?¡± Her eyes narrow, using me. ¡°That''s why you''re here isn''t it? Not to see me. You¡¯vee to ask for money for your mother.¡± ¡°I don''t see why you can''t help her, Dad. You have plenty.¡± ¡°Georgie, your mother took every penny I had...¡± ¡°You walked out!¡± ¡°She had the house, the car, the money. She had a lover.¡± ¡°She told me you left her with nothing.¡± ¡°Georgie, she lied¡­¡± Her voice drops to a hiss. ¡°Don''t you talk about her like that.¡± She picks up her cup, takes another mouthful of the tea. I follow suit, then, ¡°How much are we talking about?¡± Silently, she reaches into a pocket, pulls out an envelope and passes it to me. A bailiff''s notice. Quickly I scan the text, halting at the bold red total at the bottom of the sheet. How the fuck has she got herself in for that kind of cash? Spendthrift... Georgie says nothing, watching me with usation in her eyes. Equally silently, I reach for my desk drawer, take out a cheque book. Rounding the total up, I sign and date it, then pass it to my daughter. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispers. And the silence drags out. ¡°I''d better be going,¡± she mutters, standing. I stand with her. ¡°I''ll see you downstairs.¡± ¡°There''s no need.¡± She turns and exits. I follow her out to the elevator. ¡°Bye, Dad.¡± ¡°Goodbye, Georgie.¡± N?velDrama.Org content rights. And sweeping past Richard and Francis, returning to my office, I close the door behind me. ***** Chapter 13 Chapter 13 Richard As he turns from the elevator, James'' face is a mask. He doesn''t meet my eye or Francis¡¯. The door clicks closed behind him and Francis looks to me, her head tilted in question. My voice low. ¡°Get hold of Charlotte.¡± She nods, biting her lip, tapping into her desk phone. After a moment, ¡°Charlotte, I have Richard for you.¡± Speaking quietly, ¡°Charlotte can youe to my office right away.¡± ¡°I''m just in the middle of something. Right now?¡± ¡°Yes, right now. James'' daughter just paid him a visit and I don''t think it went well.¡± ¡°I''m on my way.¡± And the line goes dead. ¡°Get me Michael too.¡± Francis reaches for the phone again. ***** Charlotte Two seconds to save my work, one second to p down the lid of myptop and I set off at a run. As I exit the elevator, Richard is waiting, perched on the edge of Francis¡¯ desk, head bowed. Francis¡¯ eyes are swimming. ¡°Georgie came to see him¡­?¡± Surely he''d be pleased, happy? ¡°¡­ What happened?¡± Richard raises his head. ¡°Thank you foring so quickly. We don''t know what happened. She arrived and he looked delighted as he went down to meet her. As she left, she wouldn''t even let him see her downstairs. He''s in his office.¡± I swallow, my breath pulling short. I tap softly on the closed door... The barrier¡­ No reply. I tap again, more loudly. ¡°Mas¡­.¡± Francis... ¡°¡­ James?¡± No reply. ¡°James¡­. Master?¡± I turn the handle with reluctant fingers. Inside, my Master stands with his back to me, hands sped behind his back, staring out of the window over the Cityscape. ¡°Master?¡± ¡°Leave me alone, Charlotte. ¡° ¡°But Master...¡± ¡°I said leave me alone!¡± Then he turns¡­ His eyes are shiny¡­ ¡­ his voice gentler. ¡°Just go, Charlotte. Please. For now.¡± ***** Richard Charlotte reverses from the office, not that she¡¯d really stepped inside as James'' raised voice sted past her. She''s trembling, her eyes flooding. Francis wraps arms around her. ¡°He didn''t mean it. He''s just upset.¡± ¡°I know, but...¡± And the elevator door swish open and Michael steps out... He must have flown... He takes one look at Charlotte and pulls her into his embrace. ¡°Whatever he did or said, it wasn''t aimed at you.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She sniffs, pulling the heel of her hand over nose and eyes. Francis passes her a box of tissues. As she blows noisily, Michael, over her head, rolls his eyes to James¡¯ office then nods me down to her. I nod back. Of course¡­. Then dragging a hand through his hair, he takes a deep breath and steps into the dragon''s den. ***** Michael ¡°I know you''re upset, but do you really think that making Charlotte cry is the answer?¡± ¡°She''s crying?¡± His back turned, James¡¯ voice is dull. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s crying. Look at me will you.¡± He turns. ¡°Want to talk about it?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Want to get drunk?¡± He meets my eye then looks away. Then he meets my eye again. ¡°Yes,¡± he admits. ¡°Good, we''ll do it together. A man drowning his sorrows shouldn''t get drunk by himself. Fetch your coat.¡± Outside, Francis is still feeding tissues to Charlotte, albeit at a slower rate. I snag Richard by the elbow. ¡°Favour to ask. Could I leave Charlotte in your hands overnight? I want to get James out, and I doubt either of us will be fit to drive by the time we¡¯re done.¡± He doesn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Of course. I''ll call Elizabeth.¡± ¡°Thanks. You¡¯re a friend.¡± He smiles slightly. ¡°You know what they say, friends are life''s apology for family.¡± Oh, yes¡­ ¡°Tell me about it.¡± I turn to the sniffing Charlotte, take her by the shoulders, turn her to face me. ¡°I want you to stay with Richard. I need to talk with James and I¡¯ll do better knowing there¡¯s someone with you.¡± ¡°Michael...¡± She starts to protest but I cut her short. ¡°I know you want to help, but sometimes a man needs another man.¡± She parts her lips, distress writrge. ¡°It will be your turn tomorrow morning when he needs to get over his hangover.¡± ¡°He¡¯s going to have a hangover?¡± This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°I think we both will. You¡¯ll be holding the reins then.¡± She sniffs and wipes her eyes. ¡°Alright. I understand.¡± I kiss her forehead. ¡°Good girl. Thank you.¡± James appears in his long overcoat¡­ Ideal for a bar crawl¡­ ¡­ He¡¯s dressed for the weather but he¡¯s pale-faced and his normal austere expression has morphed to a kind of grim severity. As he sees Charlotte¡¯s tear-streaked face, the expression blurs to dismay. ¡°Charlotte¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I¡­¡± I p him on the shoulder. ¡°She knows it. C¡¯mon. You and me are going to have a talk.¡± As the elevator doors close behind us, I hear Richard. ¡°Francis, get hold of Ross for me would you, pronto.¡± Taking Charlotte home? Or back to their ce? It doesn¡¯t matter. I know he¡¯ll see she¡¯s okay. ***** Chapter 14 Chapter 14 The bar is seamy, dark and disreputable. Just the ce for a grieving man¡­ James has had two beers with chasers already and looks to be just hitting his stride. Wonder what he¡¯s eaten today¡­? I g the barman for a bowl of nuts, trying to be subtle about pushing it James¡¯ way. He fails to notice and simply swills down half a beer in two swallows. ¡°I suppose I never really believed I¡¯d lost her entirely¡­¡± he¡¯s saying. ¡°But the way she looked at me when I tried to tell her that her mother had lied.¡± I put my ss down, trying not to touch the surface of the suspiciously sticky counter. ¡°Who wants to believe bad things about their mother?¡± His nod is microscopic. The tilt of his head as he knocks back another malt chaser isrge. ¡°What did Georgie want?¡± We¡¯ve only been here twenty minutes, and he¡¯s already slurring. ¡°Money for her mother.¡± ¡°Pretty maniptive on Marlene¡¯s part,¡± Iment. ¡°You''d think she would havee to ask herself. Rather than use her own daughter that way.¡± James gs the barman for another round¡­ Do I want to keep up with this? ¡­. What are friends for¡­? We¡¯re both going to pay in the morning¡­ ¡°She did.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°She did. Marlene came to see me, at the office.¡± I try to inject calm into my voice. ¡°When was that?¡± ¡°Some weeks ago.¡± ¡°And you didn''t say anything?¡± ¡°I didn''t think it was your problem.¡± ¡°It bes my problem when my wife is crying.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he whispers and knocks back his shot, mming the ss down on the bar. ¡°Another.¡± He¡¯s on a burn tonight¡­ Wants to drink himself unconscious? ***** Two hours and, I think, five¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡­ or is it six¡­? ¡­ barster¡­ ¡­ my head is weaving more than my body. My legs are definitely drunk and so is the horizon. The barman ps down the double malt James just ordered. ¡°Last one,¡± he says, his voice short. ¡°No prubl¡¯m,¡± I mutter. How the hell are we going to get home in this state¡­? I nod over the bar, ¡°Can you call us a cab, please.¡± ¡°No need.¡± There''s a tap on my shoulder. I turn, one hand gripping the bar rail. ¡°Roshh? Whash the fuck are you doing here?¡± Richard¡¯s chauffeur eases a hand under my elbow. ¡°Mr Haswell''s orders. To get you both back safely.¡± ¡°Thatsh very good of h¡­¡± ***** James Christ Almighty¡­ My head¡­. I start to sit up, then flop back as my stomach rebels and the bed tilts rmingly. Where am I? Crusty-eyed, I examine my surroundings. Clean white linen¡­ A clean white ceiling¡­ Moving my head cautiously, in case it detaches from my neck, I look around. On a small table beside me are a stic tumbler, a pitcher of water and another of what looks like orange juice. And beyond, in a bed which twins with mine, is Michael, lying on his back, his mouth open, snoring slightly. Orange juice... Drink of the gods... Scraping myself from between the sheets... I''m naked... When did I undress? Operating limbs and spine in a series ofplex manoeuvres designed to sit me upright without spilling me from the bed, I reach for the juice, gulping down a ss and then another. My throat blesses me but my stomach somersaults. As I reach for the water instead, Michael stirs, raising a trembling hand to his forehead. ¡°Oh, fuck...¡± After a moment he wipes down his face with a palm and his eyes peel open. ¡°There''s¡­¡± My lips are sticking together. I lick them and try again. ¡°There¡¯s juice by the bed.¡± He jolts, his head jerking my way then stopping in mid-movement. Moving with exaggerated caution, he sits up. As he pours a ss of juice, he looks across. ¡°Next time I suggest going on a bender with you, remind me not to.¡± His face is sallow, his eyes bloodshot. ¡°Fine by me. Any idea where we are?¡± He sips juice, shudders then surveys the room. ¡°Not a clue.¡± He looks around again. ¡°At least it¡¯s not a police cell. Maybe we booked into a hotel?¡± He drinks more juice, then gulps it. ¡°Aaahhh¡­¡± Then he pours another. "If we did, it''s a plush hotel." ¡°The bill''s on you then.¡± There''s a tap at the door and the handle creaks as it turns. A face appears at the crack; Charlotte ¡°Master? Michael?¡± Her voice trembles and as she looks to me, she''s gnawing at her lower lip. Jade¡­ My Jade¡­ I hurt you. I hold out my arms to her, resisting the urge to wince at the pounding in my head, and am rewarded by the smile which blooms across her pale, beautiful face. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I behaved badly. You didn''t deserve it.¡± ¡°That''s alright, Master.¡± She moves into the room, pauses to kiss Michael on the lips, then sits beside me on the bed, stroking my face. ¡°So long as you''re better now.¡± Am I better now? ¡°So, where are we?¡± asks Michael. Her lips twitch. ¡°You don''t know? You don''t remember?¡± ¡°Um, no. I''ve lost the evening after about the third or fourth bar.¡± ¡°We''re in Richard and Beth''s house. They brought me back with themst night and Richard sent Ross out to trail you both and get you back here too.¡± When you find out who your friends are... The door pushes open to reveal Beth carrying a tray. ¡°Good morning,¡± she smiles. ¡°Coffee and tea. Whichever you prefer. And something for your heads¡­.¡± She sets a fizzing ss by my bed, another by Michael¡¯s. ¡°¡­ Breakfast when you''re ready.¡± ¡°Thanks, but no breakfast for me,¡± I say, ¡°but you can keep the coffeeing.¡± ¡°Boiled egg?¡± she suggests. ¡°Something inside would settle your stomach.¡± She eyes me. ¡°It looks as though your stomach needs settling.¡± ¡°I could manage a boiled egg, yes.¡± She nods to a door. ¡°Bathroom. There are robes and towels in there. Come down when you''re ready. There''s no hurry.¡± ¡°Aren''t we in the way?¡± says Michael. ¡°We¡¯ll get moving as soon as we can.¡± ¡°Richard is working from home today. He''s on a conference call now. He¡¯ll join us for breakfast when you''re ready.¡± ***** Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Richard I click off the video connection and almost immediately, there¡¯s a tap at my door. James? Waiting for me to finish? ¡°May Ie in?¡± Yes¡­ James¡­ He looks terrible¡­ ¡°I wanted to apologise.¡± I gather the sheaf of papers I was working with, injecting a business-like tone into my voice. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologise for my friend.¡± Sounding unconvinced, ¡°No?¡± ¡°No. We all have low points in our lives and I¡¯d say you had one of those yesterday.¡± I regard the man standing in my doorway¡­ Face sallow¡­ Pupils like pin-holes¡­ Eyes like piss-holes in snow¡­ ¡°How¡¯s the hangover?¡± ¡°About what I deserve¡­ Thank you for looking after Charlottest night.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have had it any other way, James.¡± He stands, head lowered, seeming lost for words. This isn¡¯t the James I know. You¡¯re not right yet, are you¡­ Not by a long way¡­ I stand, walk across to him and am about to p him on the shoulder¡­. Hangover¡­ Splitting headache¡­ Nausea¡­ ¡­ and settle forying my hand on his shoulder. ¡°James, I mean it. We all have times in our lives when our friends and family are what keep us going. If the positions were reversed, I¡¯d like to think you and Michael would have done the same for Elizabeth. And she¡¯s a lot more vulnerable than Charlotte ever will be.¡± ¡°Of course we would.¡± ¡°You see then... Shall we join the others for breakfast?¡± ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago Finchby is waiting when I arrive, with his slicked-back hair and that garish medallion he seems convinced looks good. ¡°Larry, great to see you.¡± He shes his usual fake smile, the single gold tooth winking. ¡°So, what do you have for me?¡± ¡°Bech, can you bring them through please?¡± Bech shouts through the door. ¡°First one.¡± She¡¯s led through; a pretty little thing. Some variety of half-cast by the look of her; honey-skinned with hair that drapes her shoulders in glossy ck ringlets, and amber-gold eyes that dart one way, then another between Finchby, myself and Bech. The cuffs around her ankles drag at her feet, but otherwise, she looks healthy enough. ¡°Unusual looks,¡±ments Finchby. ¡°Quite exotic. Where¡¯s she from?¡± ¡°She was on thest shipment from Ghana,¡± says Bech. ¡°Does she speak English?¡± Bech pokes at her shin with the toe of a boot. ¡°Do you?¡± At his gestures, she sps her hands together, holding them out to him, then to me, babbling something or other. The words are nonsense, but the pleading in the tone unmistakable. ¡°Okay, so the answer¡¯s no,¡± says Bech. He turns to a boy, maybe ten years old, standing to one side. ¡°You. Trante. Tell her to get her clothes off. Mr Finchby wants to see what he¡¯s buying¡­¡± The boy ducks his head. ¡°Yes, Boss.¡± Then he jabbers something to the girl, his breathing in quick, short gulps as he gabbles the words. She whimpers, clutching at the front of her shirt. It¡¯s sweat- stained, stinking and in shreds, but she grips the cloth in her hands as though it¡¯s her anchor on life. ¡°Did you tell her?¡± asks Bech. ¡°Yes, Boss.¡± ¡°So, why¡¯s she still dressed? Tell her again, and if you don¡¯t want to go the same way she¡¯s going, do your fucking job.¡± ¡°Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss.¡± His skin is glossy, fair hair stered to his head¡­ European? Dutch maybe¡­? ¡°Luuk here has been granted special privileges¡­¡±ments Bech¡­ ¡°¡­ because he has a knack for languages. However, he¡¯s not going to keep those privileges long if he doesn¡¯t make himself useful.¡± Arm folded, he head-points. ¡°Mr Finchby here has already told me he has a couple of customers who would enjoy some time with you. So, if you don¡¯t earn your keep here, you can easily be moved along. Now, tell this little slut to get her clothes off or we¡¯ll do it for her.¡± He turns, his voice conversational. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t mind helping on that would you, Finchby?¡± Finchby strikes a match on the wall, then lights up. ¡°My pleasure. Always d to be of assistance.¡± The boy is sweating, his voice a whimper as he speaks to the girl. She protests something-or-other, but he gestures to Bech and Finchby. Her eyes well, then fall as she unbuttons her shirt. Bech stands back, arms folded. Finchby puffs on his cigarette. Her breathing turns to gasps, then to sobs as she strips. She hesitates over what passes for her underwear, but Bech says, ¡°Tell her that means all of it.¡± The boy says something to her and weeping silently, she removes thest, then stands head lowered, trembling, her arms crossed over her breasts. ¡°Not bad,¡±ments Bech. ¡°Might have a try on that one myself before she moves on.¡± ¡°If I take her,¡± says Finchby, ¡°you¡¯ll keep your fucking paws off her, Bech. I¡¯ve them that¡¯ll pay extra to have her as she is.¡± It¡¯s not as though I¡¯ve not seen it before. Bech enjoys his little games and, for the most part, I¡¯m happy enough to let him get on with it. What difference does it make? But something about this one¡­ Is it her? Or is it¡­? She¡¯s no different. Plenty thate this way are lookers. Bech voice chills. ¡°In fact, there¡¯s someone else interested in this one.¡± He nces at his watch. ¡°I thought he¡¯d be here by now.¡± He¡¯s interrupted by the door swinging open. ¡°Ah, here he is.¡± The man entering is a stranger to me. Bech turns, addressing me, ¡°Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and is moving into the film industry. He¡¯s looking for performers.¡± The boy is speaking to the girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks up, her eyes wild¡­ Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. ¡°¡­ In short¡­¡± Bech looks to Finchby¡­ ¡°¡­ she goes to the highest bidder.¡± Finchby pinches out his cigarette. ¡°What¡¯s this, Bech? Nothing was said to me about an auction. What¡¯s in it for you?¡± ¡°Just doing my job. Which is to get the best price possible. Mr Klempner has expenses to cover. Overheads¡­.¡± ¡°Oh, gimme a break, Bech. D¡¯you think I don¡¯t know he gives you a cut for selling them on?¡± Bech looks sour and Finchby cracks augh, pping him on the shoulder. ¡°C¡¯mon, give us a smile. I know how it works. A man¡¯s gotta earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don¡¯t pay for themselves, do they?. And we¡¯ve all got to settle the bills for the vi by the beach.¡± ¡°Tell her to kneel,¡± says Yakovlevski. ¡°And to open her mouth.¡± ¡°Oh, c¡¯mon.¡± Finchby spits against a wall. ¡°Not fucking here. Can¡¯t you wait?¡± ¡°I want to see how she¡¯ll look on camera. Tell her.¡± Bech raises brows to Luuk. ¡°You heard the man. Keep talking. Tell her what she¡¯s being told to do.¡± Luuk gabbles to her again. Her eyes fill again. Tears trickling down her cheeks, she falls to her knees. Yakovlevski nudges her knees open and pulls out a Proid. ¡°Tell her I want her mouth open, and to look up at me.¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t bought her yet,¡± hisses Bech. ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have a fucking brochure, do you. I want my associates to see what they¡¯ll be paying for if they decide to cough up the cash.¡± ¡°If?¡± Bech turns on him. ¡°You said you were good for¡­¡± ¡°I am. But they have to see what they¡¯re buying, don¡¯t they. Now¡­ mouth open.¡± Her lips part. ¡°Wider.¡± Luuk murmurs to her and trembling, she obeys, looking up at the camera as one shot, then another, then another, emerge from the camera. Golden eyes flick to mine, brimming¡­ Golden eyes¡­ Green eyes¡­ ¡°She¡¯ll do nicely. What else do you have?¡± says Yakovlevski. ¡°I want some variety, a good mix; oriental and Asian types, some afros, a couple of blondes. Red-heads and Celtic types too. And I want boys and some younger girls.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± says Bech. ¡°If your wallet stretches, we¡¯ll get it. How much younger?¡± ¡°Whatever you can get. There''s always plenty will pay for young pussy.¡± ¡°I thought this was for filming?¡± I say. ¡°Well, there¡¯s always the party afterwards, isn¡¯t there.¡± Luuk talks all the time to the girl. She starts sobbing, then speaking, quickly, almost hysterically. ¡°Tell her to shut the fuck up,¡± says Bech. Luuk says something, but she keeps talking, babbling away. ¡°What¡¯s she saying?¡± I ask. ¡°She says her family will pay you for her. Much monies. More than these mans. She say please ask her family. They will pay.¡± ¡°Hear that, Bech?¡± I say. ¡°Contact her family. If they''ll make the right offer, they can have her back.¡± Bech stiffens. ¡°And what about Mr Finchby here and Mr Yakovlevski here?¡± ¡°They¡¯re in an auction, Bech. You set it up, so her family get to bid too.¡± ¡°She''s from Ghana, sir,¡± he hisses. ¡°What about the transport costs?¡± ¡°If they''ll pay for her at all, they''ll pay for the fare to get her home. Contact them.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± But his mouth curls as he speaks. ***** Chapter 16 Chapter 16 After Finchby and Yakovlevski leave, Bech still wears that ¡®just sucked a lemon¡¯ expression. ¡°Something to say, Bech?¡± He scowls and looks down. ¡°No, sir.¡± ¡°Good. Remember who''s in charge here. And who''s already made you a rich man.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I turn to the girl where she cowers at my feet. ¡°Tell her she can write a letter. Make sure her family know it¡¯s her.¡± Luuk trantes. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Sheunches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my ankles, weeping incessantly. ¡°Thank you.¡± Bechshes out with a foot. ¡°Get back, you little bitch!¡± Disentangling myself from her grasp, I stoop, looking her in the face. ¡°Remember, they have to pay for you. And they have to outbid the others. I¡¯m a businessman, not a charity.¡± ¡°They will, sir. They will,¡± says Luuk. ***** Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. James Sleep escapes me. My green-eyed Love lying next to me, my friend beyond her, I toss and turn in the dark, my mind churning. Georgie¡­ Family matters¡­ Michael was right to pull me away that day. He enjoys a drink as much as anyone but doesn¡¯t normally overdo it. When did Ist see him drunk? ? When he believed he was losing Charlotte¡­ ¡­ to me¡­ He¡¯s right, partially at least. It helps blot out the worst for a few hours. And he went there with me. Stayed with me. But it¡¯s only sticking-ster over the wound¡­ ¡­ and there¡¯s a chasm inside me. As pale fingers creep through the panes, I give up on sleep and moving as quietly as I can, pull on some clothes and head for the kitchen. Then, coffee in hand, I go outside to sit and stare. What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare¡­ This spot, this view, normally calms me. The long slide of grassy slopes down the mountain, theke below. Soul food¡­ But inside, I am unquiet. I cannot settle. It¡¯s early enough that the sun has not risen, the world bathed in the grey light of the predawn, but Venus, hanging low, heralds the dawn and is already fading against the rising re on the horizon. Inhaling steam, warming my fingers on the mug, I wait and I watch as the rim of the world begins to glower. Pull yourself together man¡­ The sun rises, casting blood-red across the low mist writhing over the waters. You¡¯d not seen her for years¡­ Thought you¡¯d never see her¡­ The blood seeps into the clouds, a gash in the sky. You have everything¡­ Everything else¡­ ¡°Master?¡± ¡°Charlotte.¡± I turn, twisting my lips to a smile. She¡¯s wearing slippers and a robe. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep. So I¡¯m just watching the sunrise.¡± ¡°Would you likepany?¡± ¡°Of course I would. Come and join me. But put some proper clothes on. It¡¯s chilly.¡± ***** Kirstie catches my eye. And of course, I know what she wants to ask. Anyone else around? But no, the lobby is quiet. We have a few moments of what passes for privacy in a spot like this. ¡°Yes, Kirstie?¡± ¡°James, about¡­.¡± Mrs Gillis appears from the back office with a file. ¡°Am I interrupting you, Mr Alexanders?¡± ¡°Not at all. I was just chatting with Kirstie here.¡± She beams up at me. ¡°Here¡¯s the visitor list for today, Kirstie. There¡¯s a couple more confirmations to come in, but that¡¯s most of it.¡± ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll put them in the daybook right away.¡± Mrs Gillis nods to me. ¡°Mr Alexanders.¡± Then she waddles off back to her office. Kirstie watches her ¡®til the door closes behind her then, ¡°She¡¯s um¡­ she¡¯s got a bit of a thing for you, James¡­¡± God save me¡­ ¡°A thing? Kirstie, please. Tell me that¡¯s a joke.¡± A smile twitches around her mouth and eyes. ¡°Not a joke. She¡¯s awfully sweet don¡¯t you think?¡± I lean down, lowering my voice. ¡°I hate to break this to you, but she¡¯s not my type.¡± She chuckles, then turns serious again. ¡°James, did you¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kirstie. I¡¯ve not spoken with him yet. Not about¡­ your concerns anyway. It¡¯s not been a good week for me. If I¡¯d tried to act the agony-aunt, it might havee off badly. But I¡¯ve not forgotten about you. I promise I will speak with him for you.¡± ¡°Thank you, James.¡± ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago ¡°Sir¡­¡± Bech wears a cautious expression. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I wished to express concern at your¡­ck of focus just now. It is not your normal behaviour and I wonder if you are perhaps being misled.¡± ¡°What are you talking about, Bech?¡± ¡°You are a businessman, sir. A good one. But recently¡­ you have, in my opinion, made misjudgements.¡± I turn to face him. Bech takes a step back. ¡°What misjudgements?¡± ¡°I went to some trouble to set up Finchby and Yakovlevski inpetition against each other. There is good potential for a lot of business from both of them. Your abrupt change of terms was a distraction.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to agree with every decision I make Bech. If we can get a better price by ransoming them back to their families, you¡¯ll still have plenty in your bank ount at the end of it.¡± ¡°The families concerned are not usually in a position to pay that kind of money. As often as not, for example in the case of that specific girl, it was their families who sold them to us in the first ce. I could hardly say so at the time and your interference in the process may have damaged our credibility with Yakovlevski.¡± ¡°So, next time, tell me in advance what you¡¯ve cooked up. If I see an opportunity for an extra profit, I¡¯ll go for it.¡± ¡°Was that your reason, sir?¡± ¡°What other reason do you think I might have?¡± He looks down, then up. Arms folded, legs braced, he faces me. ¡°I wonder if this woman you have be involved with is distracting you?¡± He sounds waspish, looks sour. What the fuck? I step forward. ¡°How could she distract me, Bech? And what is my private life to do with you?¡± He backs away, looking down. In a more moderate tone. ¡°If you choose to have a private woman sir that is, of course, your privilege. I''m just a little surprised you would choose this woman.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°I have made some enquiries, very cursory enquiries I have to say, but even at the most basic level of information, it is clear that this woman who has entangled you is amon prostitute.¡± I move closer again, deliberately invading his space. ¡°I am well aware of who and what she is, Bech, and it¡¯s none of your fucking business.¡± ¡°May I ask, sir, how you came to meet her? How you became involved with her? I believe she is having a most unhealthy effect on your state of mind.¡± ¡°My state of mind has never been better, Bech. And you¡¯d do well to remember who is in charge here. This is my operation, and I have made you a very rich man for your efforts in it.¡± I jab a finger into his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that.¡± Chapter 17 Chapter 17 ***** Michael James stands, his back to the fire, gazing into space. Charlotte enters dressed, not exactly provocatively but¡­ She¡¯s touched up her make-up¡­ Bare feet¡­ The sweater she wears is warm enough for the weather, but low-cut, with a hint of cleavage. She nces down to me on the couch, then to him. ¡°Master, are you busy with anything right now?¡± He smiles, a casual expression. ¡°Not particrly, Charlotte. What¡¯s on your mind?¡± She moves closer to him, looking up into his face, then she drops her head, looking down. Her hair, released from the usual ponytail hangs long and loose, swaying to her waist. Lol! Pretty transparent intentions¡­ My cock stirs¡­ How the fuck does she do that? I set my book to one side. It wasn¡¯t holding my attention anyway. Fun and frolics with my wife and my friend sounds much more promising. Then I shift my position a little; easing the pressure as my pants grow tight¡­ But James doesn¡¯t react as I expect. ¡°I¡¯m a little tired, Charlotte.¡± She moves close to him,ying her fingers on his chest, stroking downward over his shirt. She stops short of his belt, but her hands linger. ¡°If you¡¯re tired, Master, I could do most of the work. You can just lie back. I¡¯ll¡­¡± He lifts her hands away, kissing the fingers. ¡°Later perhaps.¡± Her postures changes. It¡¯s subtle, but it¡¯s there. What looked like submission turns to resignation. ¡°Alright, Master.¡± James¡­ not in the mood? ¡­ Not in the mood for Charlotte? And now I think about it¡­ When was thest time he started something? Charlotte rarely initiates sex or love-making with James, although she does with me¡­. Trying to be a good sub¡­ Yeah¡­ right¡­ ¡­ Normally she waits for his signal¡­ Her Dom¡¯s signal¡­ ¡­. And goes along with whatever he has in mind¡­ When did hest start something? I rack my brain¡­ Days? Weeks? I¡¯d not realised¡­ ¡­ but she has¡­ What¡¯s going on? ? Charlotte? Surely he¡¯s not falling out of love with her? No¡­ She¡¯s his world¡­. What then? ? Aaahhh¡­ Fucking obvious¡­. His daughter¡­ Is he suffering from depression? And trying to hide it? A Dom who¡¯s not in the mood to Dominate? Time to step in¡­ I rise, striding across to stand behind her. Reaching around I hold her wrists tugging them, none too gently, behind her back, then in a voice loud enough for James to hear. ¡°Your Master expects you to be on your knees, not crawling up near his face.¡± Her breath catches. James¡¯ eyes meet mine and his mouth twitches¡­ Pupils dting¡­ That¡¯s doing it¡­ One palm on her shoulder, I press. ¡°Down, madam.¡± As she drops, James¡¯ gaze follows her. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± I say, backing off a step or two, giving him room to move. He circuits her as, head bowed, she submits. ¡°You should be naked, Charlotte,¡± I say, ¡°before your Master.¡± Head still bowed, she nods, her hair swinging, hands moving from the t of her thighs to the hem of her pullover. I beat her to it. Fisting one hand into her hair, I tug, raising her head, lifting her to kneel upright. ¡°Take it off then.¡± She lifts from the hem, up and over her head. She¡¯s not wearing a bra and her skirt I now realise, is a wrap-around, held in ce with a couple of buttons and no more. Slipping them open, she tugs filmy fabric away leaving herself wearing only panties, cut high at the hip in the way that suits her so well, white satin andce. One arm locking around hers, I lift her to her feet then reaching around, hook thumbs into the sides of her panties, pulling them down. ¡°Off.¡± As she slips them down, kicking them off I take her by the arms again, locking them behind her and pull her backwards, deliberately unbncing her. Then sitting on the edge of the couch I tug until she copses, close to naked, into myp. ¡°Now¡­¡± I say, speaking close by her face, but still loud enough for James to hear, ¡°¡­ a good sub doesn¡¯t make it difficult for her Master to have what is his. So spread ¡¯em.¡± James watches this in silence, but his eyes are ck as he stands over her, legs akimbo, looking down, every inch the Dominant. And¡­ ¡­ thankfully¡­ ¡­ his pants are bulging¡­ Her lungs heave as she opens her legs, raising her knees a little, but now I grab her at the back of the thighs, hooking an arm around each leg to spread her open. As I expose her, the scent of her arousal, pungent and sharp-sweet swirls up. I can taste her in the air. James tilts his chin, inhaling. With slow, deliberate movements, he unknots his tie, then undoes the top button of his shirt. ¡°Michael, would you like me to restrain her?¡± He stands with the tie offered, taut, with a hand knotted into each end. Her body quivers against mine as I hold her close, her face now resting against mine, and my own shaft, satisfyingly constrained by my jeans, sandwiched against her spine, protests its freedom. ¡°In a while perhaps. I¡¯m ratherfortable like this.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± He puts the tie to one side. Usually, at this point, James would kneel in front of her and bury his face in her pussy. It¡¯s what I¡¯m expecting him to do, but instead, he pulls up a footstool, sitting close by her, his own knees spread, leaning forward. His eyes flick between her face and her disyed sex, and asionally to me. Almost casually he draws a fingertip along the tender crease where thigh meets vulva. A shudder runs through her and I crane to see. James¡¯ gaze flicks to mine for a moment then, ¡°Don¡¯t go away.¡± He stands, briskly leaving the room, then just as briskly returning with a mirror which normally lives hooked on the wall in the hallway. He sets it against the firece, gauging by eye, then adjusting its position. ¡°Can you see now?¡± ¡°I can, yes. Thank you, James.¡± And now I watch the reflection as he re-seats himself on the footstool. With Charlotte cradled-captured in my arms, I have a perfect view of her syed pussy, a ssh of deep pink against marble skin and copper curls. James traces the delicate furrow of her inner thigh, his head tilting as he does so. It¡¯s the most delicate of touches, the very tip of a finger, but her body ripples against mine and she mewls her response. Watching the mirror, I tighten my grip on her as he repeats the movement, this time on the other side, then follows through on the fine skin of her inner thigh, tracing a path from cleft to knee and back. Charlotte¡¯s cheek presses against mine as she levers back against my hold on her, whimpering. James stands again, this time rummaging through a drawer to return with something¡­ several somethings¡­ concealed in his hand, popping some into a pocket. But he ces one on a couch arm; a set of controls. Another he offers up, wordless as he disys it to her; an egg. His voice is conversational. ¡°How much power do you think, Michael?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say, start it low and work upwards from there.¡± ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± Her reflected eyes, so green, but with huge, dark pupils, are fixed on him as, one hand holding the egg, he thumbs the controls with the other until quietly, it hums in his hand. Reaching forward, he traces it over her skin, caressing her cheek with it, then her lips, the lightest of touches. Then like an artist with his masterpiece, he strokes the egg over her pussy lips. She jolts in my arms at the first touch, arching back, writhing against my hold. Waves pass through her body, massaging my sandwiched cock, sending my blood-pressure through the roof and electricity spiking to my balls. James purses his lips, sliding the egg over her again, stroking through folds which grow more deeply red with every moment. Then, his wrist twisting, he slips it into her pussy, pressing in, nudging it past the inner-muscle and to her rising howls, pushing it home with a couple of fingers. His voice mild, ¡°Can you tilt her up a little more at the hip.¡± He reaches for his pocket again, this time extracting a small vibe. ¡°My pleasure.¡± I shuffle under her, jerking her to a new position, now biting down on my self-control with her weight more firmly over my erection. ¡°Thank you, Michael. That will do nicely.¡± James, in business-like fashion, swipes the vibe through her pussy-lips, coating it to glistening slipperiness. Pressing it to her rose-pink rosette, he twists back and forth as he prates. Charlotte¡¯s mouth opens and her breath stutters in aplicated stammering warble. You might think she was in pain, but we both know better. And now, as she shivers and twitches and moans in my grasp, he leans in, the t of his hands against her thighs¡­ Feeling her response¡­? ¡­ opens his mouth and Aaahhhs warm breath over her. She tries to move but pinned by me at the knees and by James at the thighs, she can only spasm uselessly until, as heys the tip of his tongue over her clit, hips bucking, she actually pulls free of me. Her spine bows as she jerks free of my grip and I scrabble to pin her again. There¡¯s a kind of gurgle from James which I think might beughter¡­ ¡­ at least he¡¯s smiling¡­ ¡­ as he presses hard down on her thighs, pushing her back into my grasp. His eyes ride up to mine and then with a single long stroke, he takes his tongue through the full length of her folds. And then again¡­ ¡­ and again¡­ T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. She¡¯s screaming andughing, her body tensing and straining against mine. James breaks off for a moment, fiddling with the controls, turning up the power on the egg then fastens his lips over her pussy. She¡¯s streaming, her honey wiping over his mouth and chin, rubbing over her thighs Even through my clothes, she¡¯s hot; her naked flesh pressed back against me; and she smells of sweat and the musky scent of sex; a heady cocktail that blooms through the air making my blood pound and my cock pulse. Then the pause¡­ ¡­ the moment of stillness as she arches, drawing in breath¡­ James¡¯ eyes roll up to her face, but her bud in his mouth, he suckles gently¡­ ¡­ and with a shriek, she ricochets into orgasm¡­ In the mirror I watch her; head flung back against mine, every muscle taut¡­ At thest moment, James dips inside her with fingers, flicking out the egg and recing it with his own tongue, sucking her dry as her hips heave and she rides her climax. As she goes limp, he breaks away, nodding to me as he stands. Releasing her, I push her upright and to him and he grabs her by the wrists, spinning her, then pushing her to kneel face-down to the couch in the space next to me. Stripping away his belt with a just-audible gasp, James releases his cock; swollen, purple-veined and rock-hard. Sweeping her hair to one side, his hand hard on the back of her neck, he crushes her face into the cushions, then plunges into her like a fucking pile-driver. Her weight off me, my congested erection is screaming for attention. I watch them; James shafting her with everything he¡¯s got, Charlotte heated scarlet, both gleaming with her honey as he enters and withdraws, fathoming her full-length, ramming her inner walls until she shrieks with every stroke. She¡¯s already slick with perspiration. He¡¯s reddening, sweat beading his forehead, trickling down the skin, soaking into his hair. His chest rises and falls like bellows and the pulse on the side of his neck drums a visible beat. He jerks, judders, and with a hoarse bark, his eyes squeeze closed and his head drops as his hips grind spirals into her pelvis¡­ ¡­ ¡°Christ¡­¡± he mutters, dropping forward to rest on a long arm over her. Then he swipes dripping hair from his forehead, seizes her by a tangle of red locks and lifts her up and back by the scalp to drop her face over my throbbing groin¡­ Perfect! Couldn''t have nned it better. ¡°Get him out and get your mouth around him.¡± She scrabbles at my belt and zip, my cock springing out and to attention, already seeping. ¡°Lick him clean, then suck him off.¡± James settles, sitting on the carpet, one leg tucked under, one knee up as he reaches for her from behind. ¡°Master, the vibe...¡± ¡°Shut up and get sucking.¡± His arm works as he finger-fucks her, his hand glistening in a mixture of her juices and his own cum. Then by way of a change, fucks her at the back with the vibe. My hands on her head, I regte her speed and he matches his strokes up her pussy and her ass to my rhythm. I¡¯m ready to blow already. It takes seconds. With a growl I climax and as I do so, James snatches at her hair and pulls her free, still hand-fucking her pussy. I shoot like a fucking porn star, showering her face in my cum, and at the same moment, she shrieks and goes into orgasm again. She¡¯s still Coming as I rx back to see James, his lips curving, one arm still powering behind her. ¡°Stop. Red, Master. Red!¡± He releases her, whips out the vibe and then sits back, resting on his hands, staring up at the ceiling as he heaves one deep breath after another. Charlotte slumps back by him on the carpet in grand disarray. Her hair is a wild tangle of copper and gold and she drips sweat and cum down her face and onto her breasts. ¡°You look utterly beautiful like that,¡± I say. She gives me a film star smile. ¡°How about a soak in the tub,¡± says James. ¡°Great idea. Charlotte, red, white or cava?¡± Chapter 18 Chapter 18 ***** Ten minutester, up to our chests in warm water and foam, I fill the flutes, passing them across. ¡°¡¯Scuse me a mo,¡± says Charlotte, then slides under the surface. She rises again a few secondster, snorting bubbles. ¡°How do you feel now?¡± I ask. James tips his ss to me, smiling, but he doesn¡¯t speak. Then, his lids drooping, he looks away. ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago I step out, feeling bright. Everything is going perfectly. Bech¡¯s done well¡­ Nothing like a littlepetition to get the prices up Another shipment like that and I can open the east wing at Blessingmoors¡­ So Yakovlevski wants a mix... A couple of leggy Russian types ought to fit in well¡­ Back to Helsinki¡­ But first I want to see the apartment. Keys jingling in my pocket, I head out. Will she like it? But as the lock turns smoothly and the door clicks open, my doubts settle. What''s not to like? The space is bright and airy, morning sunshine spilling through panes and onto, as I requested, new flooring and walls painted in cool neutral colours. Much better than what she has¡­ And she can soon put her own stamp on it¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. The carpets are deep and thick. Nheless, my footsteps echo in the empty rooms. To furnish or not to furnish¡­? Let her choose from the start? Or furnish first then she can change it to suit herself? Do it in the style she already has? Not easy¡­ No. I dismiss that idea, then hover in therger of the bedrooms. The window overlooks the harbour, the better part with the marina, small shops selling souvenirs and knick-knacks and bars that y host to students and ¡®artisty¡¯ types. She¡¯ll like that¡­ Wonder if she¡¯d like to run a shop? ¡­ Sell her own work? She¡¯s artistic¡­ ¡­ and talented¡­ Easily good enough¡­ Don¡¯t get distracted. Like the rest of the apartment, the room is yet unfurnished. How to y this¡­? Bookshelves¡­ Definitely. Double bed...? It urs to me that I have never seen her bedroom... She doesn¡¯t take her clients home¡­ Maybe she has a single? I reach a decision and head out for one of therge local furniture stores. ***** Her phone rings. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Mitch, it¡¯s Larry. I was wondering, are you free this afternoon?¡± ¡°Sure. Meet you at the hotel?¡± ¡°No, not today. I want to show you something. I¡¯ll send a cab for you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great. What time?¡± ¡°About two?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see you then.¡± ***** The bell hums and I cease from where my pacing is wearing a track in the carpet. I turn down the music a trifle, then open the door. And she¡¯s there, smiling and lovely, in the fur-lined boots and gloves I bought her in Find, enfolded in a huge woollen shawl and with a scarf covering half her face. Poking out from under the shawl is one of the designer carrier bags she always has. ¡°You must be freezing. Come into the warm. Here, let me take your wrap.¡± ¡°Funny isn¡¯t it,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like so cold as Helsinki if you read the thermometer, but that damp breeze¡­¡± She shivers. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind¡­¡± She looks sheepish as she slips off the boots and fishes low-heeled court shoes from her bag. In a shade of teal-green which matches the dress she wears and the emeralds at her throat. As I take her wrap, she offers the bag. ¡°Housewarming present.¡± ¡°Thank you. Come sit by the fire. What would you like to drink? Something hot first? Chocte?¡± ¡°Lovely.¡± The mug cradled in both hands as she perches on a stool by the mes, she looks around. ¡°Have you moved in yet?¡± I prevaricate. ¡°It¡¯s all new. Waiting to have the owner¡¯s stamp on it. On which subject, let''s see this housewarming gift.¡± It¡¯srge and bulky, enveloped in a towel and even before I unwrap it, fairly obviously a painting. And as the cloth falls away, I see it is¡­ ¡­ extraordinary¡­ ¡°Mitch, this is one of yours, isn¡¯t it? I recognise your style from that mural in your apartment.¡± ¡°Yes, I painted it.¡± She moves around to look at it with me. ¡°You like it?¡± ¡°I do, yes. Very much.¡± ¡°You gave me Helsinki Harbour at sunset. I painted it to give it back to you.¡± How the hell does she do it? She¡¯s captured the colours, the vour, the sheer fairnd atmosphere of the subject; with its rainbow sky and the multi-hued sea ice. But more than that, as I move to see the painting from this way and that, the waters move¡­ When was thest time anyone gave me a gift? ¡°You¡¯re a fine painter, Mitch. I¡¯ll give it pride of ce. Thank you.¡± I peck her on the cheek. ¡°Want a look around?¡± I point to the window. ¡°See the view?¡± She moves smoothly, the silk of her dress rustling as she walks, sliding over her curves. At the window, ¡°Oh!¡± She puts the mug down on the sill, resting on the heels of her hands as she leans forward, craning. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s gorgeous. What a perfect setting.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it. I thought you would like it.¡± She watches a yacht motor in between the harbour walls. ¡°Want to see the rest?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± she chuckles. ¡°Gotta give you the chance to show off your new pad, haven¡¯t I.¡± ¡°The kitchen¡¯s through here¡­¡± She clicks her tongue. ¡°Not what I thought you would have chosen for your bachelor pad. I had you down for a more obviously masculine style.¡± ¡°Neutral¡¯s always good. Anyone can make what they want of it then. Come see the bathroom.¡± She steps inside, then stops and twists, chuckling. ¡°Do I detect an agenda?¡± ¡°I always think a bath big enough for two is a good idea. Don¡¯t you?¡± Her eyes twinkle. ¡°The shower too? Methinks the man doth protest too much.¡± ¡°And this¡­¡± I lead her with a gesture¡­ ¡°¡­ is the guest bedroom.¡± ¡°Mmmm,¡± she nods. ¡°A good idea having twin beds. Keeps it flexible.¡± ¡°The master bedroom is through here.¡± Her eyes rise to mine as I hold the door open for her, but she enters. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s lovely, isn¡¯t it.¡± She sits on the wide sill, the curved seat of the window which again overlooks the harbour. ¡°If this was mine, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever move from this spot.¡± She nces around. ¡°It¡¯s a shame there¡¯s no firece in here. I¡¯d have been tempted to make this the main lounge.¡± She stands, surveying the wall. ¡°Is that a chimney behind the ster?¡± ¡°Yes, it is. And I could easily have it opened up if that¡¯s what you would like.¡± Sheughs, sweeping her long hair back over her head. ¡°Listen to me. Redesigning your new home for you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. I wanted to hear what you thought¡­ Are you hungry?¡± ¡°I could eat something, yes.¡± ¡°Dining room or sitting by the fire?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a dining room?¡± ¡°Sorry, yes. This way.¡± She looks too and fro across the room. ¡°Not so nice a space as the other rooms is it. Facing away from the sun.¡± ¡°True. I had it set out as a dining room, but I thought it might make a good study, or maybe an artist¡¯s studio, with the north-facing light.¡± Will she take the hint? She sucks at her lips. "I¡¯d agree with you there. Unless you want to do a lot of entertaining¡­" Apparently not¡­ ¡°We¡¯ll eat by the fire, I think. Make yourselffortable. I¡¯ll fetch it in. Wine?¡± I nod her towards the stereo. ¡°And why don¡¯t you put on some music.¡± ***** Chapter 19 Chapter 19 As we finish the meal, I draw the curtains, the short winter day already fading. The mes set light and shadow dancing across the room. They flutter over her hair, gilding the highlights, deepening the lowlights as she sits on the thick rug by the hearth, her legs tucked under her. ¡°You want to make love,¡± she whispers. It¡¯s not a question. ¡°Yes. You?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± We need no more words. Her mouth is a sensual curve as she rises. I slip my hand into hers, leading her to the bedroom, and her lips a little parted, she follows. Her face raises to mine, reaching for me. And it¡¯s not the hooker with her client. It¡¯s Mitch¡­ My Mitch¡­ ¡­ wanting me¡­ Our lips brush, then press. She¡¯s warm, her flesh yielding, soft and tasting of the wine. Her fingers tangle into my hair and her mouth opens, the kiss deepening. The music, soft and evocative spills through from the lounge. I pull her to me, but abruptly she breaks away, kicking off her shoes, and barefoot, she dances. Languidly, beautifully, slowly, she dances for me. She¡¯s hypnotic, spell-binding; weaving sorcery as I watch, with the music and the swaying of her body¡­ The dress, its teal-green silk, whispers as she moves. Her long hair is a cloud of red and gold, and her emerald eyes are jewels. She reaches for me, her long pale arms outstretched, andughing for sheer joy. ¡°Dance with me?¡± Taking her in my arms, one hand at her shoulder, the other nested at the base of her spine, together we sway and glide to the music which trickles around us. So close, she smells of some perfume she¡¯s wearing. It rises from within the silk like a drug, and like a drugged man, I stoop to lift her and carry her to the bed. ¡°Do you like it?¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°The apartment.¡± ¡°Yes, you have a lovely home.¡± ¡°It''s not my home. I bought it for you.¡± She stiffens.... ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not mine. It¡¯s yours. I bought it for you. The deeds are in your name.¡± ¡°Put me down.¡± ¡°Mitch¡­¡± ¡°Put me down, you bastard.¡± Confused, I release her, helping her stand again. She pulls away from me, her eyes slitting. ¡°What the fuck are you ying at?¡± ¡°Mitch, it¡¯s a gift. That¡¯s all. I just wanted to give you what you deserve.¡± ¡°Don''t you try to trap me,¡± she hisses. ¡°Don''t you dare try to trap me. Was that the n all along? Get the little bird in its golden cage? Make me beholden to you? Own me?¡± She snatches up her shoes, jamming her feet inside. ¡°You can go to hell!¡± ¡°Mitch. I didn''t... I want to make you free. Give you choices...¡± ¡°Choices, eh?¡± she snarls. ¡°The main one to be your chattel. Your property¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°No. Mitch, it¡¯s a gift, no more than that.¡± ¡°An apartment? Just a gift? Flowers and choctes, yes. Even jewellery¡­¡± She grabs up behind her neck, fumbling at the sp of the ne of emeralds before tugging it away and tossing it onto the bed. ¡°Yes, just a gift.¡± She stands, a hand on one hip, head tilted back. ¡°All right, so I can just ept all this¡­¡± She sweeps an arm around the room and to the door¡­ ¡°¡­ and then tell you to get out of my life. Is that one of my choices?¡± ¡°No¡­ Don¡¯t do that. Mitch, I only want¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m going now,¡± she says. ¡°This has gotten thoroughly out of hand. I can¡¯t imagine what you thought you were doing.¡± She turns, heading for the door. ¡°You¡¯d better make arrangements to reim your property.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t. I told you. I¡¯ve put it in your name. Like it or not, legally it¡¯s yours.¡± She halts. ¡°Really? You actually did that?¡± ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know what I have to say to convince you. It¡¯s yours. Legally. A gift. To you. From me. If you did throw me out of your life, it would still be your property.¡± Her head falls, her throat bobbing. ¡°Won¡¯t you at least try it?¡± I say. ¡°Stay here a few days? I''m going to be away for the next couple of weeks. I wouldn''t be here.¡± Her eyes shift to mine. ¡°You''d be free to think. To make up your own mind without me around. You wouldn''t be pressured.¡± She holds; still, almost frozen, save for the rise and fall of her chest. ¡°All I want is to give you the things you deserve. Without you having to¡­ Without you having to... work.¡± She slow-blinks, her eyes softening. ¡°You can always go back to your old ce if you want to¡­¡± Her face hardens again. ¡°My own ce¡­¡± ¡°Your own ce then, if that makes you happy. It''s not going anywhere. But this is your own ce too.¡± ¡°And so where do you fit into this then? Am I supposed to be your kept woman?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be. You could if you wanted. I¡¯d be happy with that. But you¡¯d own an extra property. You could rent it out. Live off that. Or you could paint. Sell your work. You have a real talent. And you¡¯d be able to spend as much time as you wanted reading.¡± She watches me sidelong, listening, but some of the heat is fading from her eyes. ¡°And you?¡± ¡°There''s two bedrooms. You saw that. I didn''t make assumptions.¡± The tension eases from her. Before my eyes, she¡¯s rxing. ¡°Come have some more wine. We¡¯ll sit together, talk. No more, not unless you want to.¡± ¡°All right, we¡¯ll sit. We¡¯ll talk. But I¡¯m not promising anything.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡± ***** Later, I lie in the cold embrace of one of the twin beds, staring into the dark. The door eases open, light spilling a slit over the nkets. ¡°Got those pyjamas here?¡± she asks. She¡¯s wearing my shirt. ¡°I do, yes.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be warmer if we sleep in the same bed.¡± ***** Easing into warm wakefulness, I know that I¡¯m being watched. My eyes snap open to meet Mitch¡¯s, her head above mine, propped on knuckles. ¡°What am I supposed to make of you?¡± she says. ¡°Anything you want, Mitch.¡± Leaning close, her lips meet mine. ¡°Where were west night?¡± Reaching arms around her shoulders, I pull her close. ¡°I want you.¡± I move a hand to sp the curve of her waist, then to cup a breast through the shirt. Her voice is a honeyed growl. ¡°I thought we''d agreed we would make love rather than just have sex?¡± ¡°Are the two ipatible?¡± ¡°No, I don''t think they are.¡± Hooking a finger into the waistband of the pyjamas, ¡°Get rid of them.¡± My cock rearing up, an obstruction to every movement, I tug the damn things away and she Mmmms, running a fingertip over my length, then gliding circles over the head. I can¡¯t help myself, groaning and gasping as the pleasure tightens my groin and sets my balls crawling. She hoists herself up, slinging a leg across me, straddling me, the shirt dangling to cover her vee¡¯d thighs. She doesn¡¯t touch me, doesn¡¯t take me inside herself, but the heat of her bathes me, my shaft basking in the warm dampness close to her sex, pulsing with my heartbeat, twitching with anticipation. Her eyes fixed on mine, she slips open the bottom button of the shirt, then the second. Slowly she moves upwards¡­ It¡¯s odd; familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. She¡¯s done this for me before, when I was paying her, when she was just the woman I¡¯d rented for a few hours. But now, there is something in her nce; a knowledge of me¡­ Is that all? Affection¡­ perhaps? She likes me. She does like me¡­ Is that all it is? Could it be more? Be patient¡­ The shirt falls open. The morning sunlight is a sheen over the full curve of her breasts, a pale contrast to the valley between. I raise my arms, warm flesh filling each palm, her nipples small hard pearls, and the scent of her billowing¡­ Aroused? Yes¡­ I was the first that did that for her¡­ I¡¯m sure of it¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Take your time¡­ Take her slowly¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. I want to thrust up, to jack-hammer into her, to fill her with myself, but I don¡¯t, biting down to resist the urge. What I want¡­ What I really want, is that moment; that moment of careening perfection that sends her reeling and me tumbling after her. When I know that I¡¯ve given her what no-one else ever did. My palms slipping away from the weight of her breasts, they slide t down the line of her stomach. She tensions, her belly taut under my touch, but it¡¯s not the tension of stress or denial. Her thighs, arched over me shudder and tremble, and her scent¡­. She wants me¡­ She wants me¡­. With one hand, I stroke the delicate skin of her thighs, working inward. With the other, I draw long, soft strokes inside, the lightest of touches over her folds. Her head falls and she moans¡­. ¡­. and it is the sweetest sound I ever heard. She¡¯s wet, growing ever more fluid, and as I tease at her clit, her body spasms then ckens and the sound that escapes her throat is a long ulting wail that holds words that are not words at all but sheer emotion¡­ Use my mouth? No¡­ Watch her face¡­ With the pad of a thumb, I tease back the fleshy hood which protects her sweet spot then spiral the bud inside with a fingertip, toying with the tiny thing, flirting with her nerve endings. She bucks and heaves then falls forward onto her hands, her breasts swinging over my face. Snagging a nipple between my lips, I mirror the movements of fingers and tongue, feeling it crinkle and harden, nubbing as I suck. She rears up again, gazing down with those jewelled eyes. ¡°I want you inside me.¡± The words escape with her breathing, her panting, and sweetest of all, I know that she means it. My hands on her hips, I draw her down, my shaft anchoring against her, nuzzling at her entrance. As she takes me inside herself, her lids flutter and her pussy throbs around me. I shift my grip, holding her by the hip with one hand, working her bud with the other as I thrust; long easy strokes that spill hot juices over me and draw the moan of an angel from her. There¡¯s a vibration, a shudder that passes from her pelvis to mine. Nudging at her clit, rubbing slippery flesh between thumb and forefinger, I watch her face, watch the glory rising there¡­ Her cries grow louder, longer, more¡­ Her breathing grows ragged. ¡­ and she wails into climax. Dropping forward onto her hands, her flesh ripples as she presses her face to my chest. One hand trapped between our bodies, with the other I hold her close, still thrusting as best I can from my position under her. Her orgasm shudders through her body and against mine, that tidal-wave of the flesh. And as finally, she gasps and sags, the Rush takes me too. Blind to everything except her and my own euphoria, out of control, I pulse into her¡­ And again¡­ And again¡­ Mitch hauls herself upright, still straddling me. I¡¯m buried deep inside her and she¡¯s flushed, sweating and smiling. ¡°That was amazing,¡± she says. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± I swipe sweat from my eyes¡­ ¡°¡­ it was.¡± She reaches down, strokes my face. ¡°What am I going to do about you?¡± Is that a serious question? ¡°I don¡¯t know. What are you going to do about me?¡± She rises with a noticeable sucking noise, swinging a long leg over, then perches beside me on the edge of the bed. Leaning in, she kisses me. ¡°Considering how we met, I suppose it¡¯s nice to be invited into the bed of my lover.¡± Inside me, something Hallelujahs! But I try to keep my voice casual. ¡°As I exined, this is your apartment.¡± I nt a fingertip between her breasts. ¡°As is everything in it. In fact, you have invited me into your bed.¡± She grows pensive. ¡°Can¡¯t we at least talk about it?¡± ¡°You really bought this apartment, furnished it and put it in my name? It¡¯s mine?¡± ¡°The apartment, and everything in it¡­¡± Dare I say it? ¡°¡­ and that includes me.¡± ¡°Larry¡­¡± I press a finger to her lips. ¡°As I said, I¡¯m going away on business for a few days, a couple of weeks perhaps. Please say you¡¯ll think about it.¡± She drops elbows to knees, her hair swaying. Then, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll think about it.¡± I sit up, kiss her. ¡°Thank you.¡± She runs her hand into my hair, her face resting against mine. ¡°When are you leaving?¡± ¡°Tomorrow.¡± ¡°For two weeks?¡± ¡°At most.¡± I take her by the chin, hold her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll be back by the fourteenth at thetest.¡± ¡°Valentine¡¯s Day?¡± ¡°Valentine¡¯s Day.¡± ***** Chapter 20 Chapter 20 Charlotte ¡°Toast, Master?¡± I offer the rack, stacked with crisp, golden and gently steaming slices. He¡¯s sitting part- dressed to head for work, in a clean white shirt. A curl of dark hair shows where the top button is open. He¡¯s not paying attention. His gaze is so far away. Wherever he is, he¡¯s not with me or Michael in our beautiful mountain home. ¡°Master? Would you like some toast?¡± His eyes refocus, swinging to me. He smiles, but the smile is pale and wan. ¡°No, thank you, Charlotte. Just coffee is fine.¡± ¡°More coffee then? I¡¯ll make another pot.¡± ¡°Thank you, yes.¡± And he looks away again. He looks¡­. lost¡­. I make the coffee, grinding extra beans so it¡¯s strong, the way he likes it. As I return to the table, Michael is saying, ¡°So, what¡¯s it today, James? Anything interesting?¡± He seems not to hear. ¡°James?¡± He turns to Michael. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What was that?¡± ¡°Anything interesting happening today? You¡¯re usually full of whatever¡¯s happening down on that City Project. What¡¯s the excitement at the moment?¡± He sips coffee, cradling the mug. ¡°Um, not sure. I may need to go on-site to see the progress of the groundworks on D-site.¡± I inject some enthusiasm into my tone. ¡°You said I could tag along, Master. Perhaps get some practice in, helping with the survey work.¡± ¡°Did I? Then of course you cane.¡± But my enthusiasm isn¡¯t mirrored. There¡¯s no zest in his voice. ***** In the hall, he stands at the mirror, looping his tie. He fumbles at the knot, curses quietly and starts over. Again, he botches the job. This time his swearing is louder. ¡°Here, let me do it, Master.¡± He turns to face me and I square him a little by the shoulders, then slip the tie back around the neck of his shirt and knot it for him. Then I turn him back again to face the mirror. ¡°Alright?¡± His reflection speaks to mine. ¡°Perfect. Thank you, Charlotte.¡± ¡°Master¡­¡± His head tilts. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Master¡­ you are loved. You know that don¡¯t you? I love you. Michael loves you too. Differently of course, but he does. And I¡¯d say that Richard and Beth love you too.¡± The reflection colours up and the eyes drop. The Adam¡¯s apple bobs. He looks up again, a faint spectre of humour in his eyes. ¡°You know, that may be the first time you¡¯ve ever said that to me.¡± ¡°Times and ces, Master. Times and ces.¡± He turns, his face close to mine, the sweetness of his breath on my skin. His lids lowering, he leans in close, pressing his lips against mine. Then, ¡°And you too are loved. Wholly, and always.¡± ¡°I know that, Master.¡± ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago I stand on deck, dressed against temperatures still well below zero, watching a sea of olive, sage and blue metal. On the cobalt horizon, container ships like floating cities fall over the edge of the world. The calm waters ripple where a gull snatches at the surface, its throat bobbing as it ps and rises. Low cloud hangs in veils of grey and blue but over the heand it thins, sunlight painting pale fingers over mountains that fade through grey shrouds before vanishing into opaque horizons. What does it take? What do I offer her? Not money¡­ What does she want? ? Freedom¡­ ¡­ What does that even mean? ¡­ ¡­ All those books¡­ She wants to travel¡­ ¡­ ¡­ What would I do? ¡­ I¡¯ve seen plenty¡­ Maybe I could make my living as a journalist? Always could get my point across... ¡­ Roving reporter.... Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. See the world... ¡­ with her Like she¡¯s always wanted... She''d love it... ¡­ Blessingmoors? ¡­ Could it really be a shelter¡­? ¡­ do what it says on the tin¡­ ¡­ Go the same ces¡­ Do the same things¡­ War zones¡­ Refugees¡­ Always plenty out there needing help¡­ ¡­ Would she like that? ¡­ Helping to give freedom to others? ? Bech? Bech¡­ ¡­ ¡­ He¡¯ll do as he¡¯s fucking told¡­ ***** She sits across the coffee table from me, hands folded on herp, legs crossed at the ankles, her gaze attentive. Neatly dressed in a suit that wouldn¡¯t look out of ce in any office between New York, London and Sydney, long hair in aplicated up-do, she is the image of the perfect employee. I speak with the slightly clipped, well-enunciated tone I use with those for whom English is not the first language. ¡°Your English is very good, Annikki.¡± I make a show of scribbling a note on my clipboard. Her answering smile is polite. ¡°Always sir, I have wished toe to the west. Now I can.¡± ¡°Yes, you can. And what kind of work are you looking for? My agency has contacts with a variety of employers. It is important we have a good match.¡± ¡°I am happy to make many kinds of work, sir. I will work hard. I have thenguages. I am good with children¡­¡± She drones on¡­ Pretty¡­ Finchby¡¯d take her, no problem¡­ Should be a good price too. ¡­ She¡¯d look good undressed¡­ ¡­ Crying¡­ Forced¡­ ¡°Do you have a family, Annikki? A boyfriend?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. I have fianc¨¦. He wishes also to find work. Perhaps you wish to meet him?¡± ¡°Perhaps.¡± I sip the coffee, strong and bitter as the Finns serve it. It bites at my throat, settling uneasily in my stomach. I snap my clipboard shut. ¡°I don''t think you''re suitable, Annikki.¡± ¡°But, sir¡­¡± Her mouth is an ¡®O¡¯; all protest. Her eyes are just as round, swimming and bright. ¡°This isn¡¯t for you. Go home.¡± ¡°Sir, I will be a good worker. My promise. I will pay for my own travel. I¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have anything for you, Annikki.¡± I stand, turn and head for the exit, while behind me I hear sobs. Casting a look back from the revolving doors, I see her face dropped into her hands, her shoulders shaking. ***** Chapter 21 Chapter 21 Michael It¡¯s dark, a frigid winter¡¯s evening. James hasn¡¯te home from work yet and I can¡¯t find Charlotte. Where is she? Having a bath maybe? But the bathroom stands cold and empty. Reading somewhere? I try her study, the lounge and the dining room, still with no sign of her. And then as I stop to flick the curtains closed in the lounge, there she is. Outside on the terrace, without so much as a jacket or a cushion, she hugs her knees as she sits on bare stone paving, staring into the dark. She must be bloody freezing¡­ What¡¯s this about? Don¡¯t rush it¡­ I make a couple of hot drinks, then venture outside. She turns as I approach. I offer her a mug. ¡°Hi. Mind if I join you?¡± ¡°Course not.¡± She sniffs. ¡°That¡¯s lovely. Thank you.¡± ¡°Hot nutmeg milk and dash of brandy. I thought if you were determined to freeze your butt, you¡¯d better have something inside to help thaw it out.¡± She nods then turns to stare into the dark again. After a minute or so, I say, ¡°Come on, spit it out. Whatever it is.¡± ¡°I was thinking about my mother.¡± ¡°What about her?¡± ¡°I might never find her.¡± ¡°Perhaps not, but we''ll keep looking.¡± She blows on the milk, takes a slow mouthful. ¡°What I''m meaning is, it''s about continuity, isn''t it. As long as I''m here, there''s a bit of her too. And my father. It''s not all gone. And if...¡± "If what?" She chokes up. ¡°He¡¯s so unhappy. He¡¯s usually so full of life; so full of¡­ of take-it-in-big-bites¡­ He¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s just not him.¡± ¡°He? Who? James? I thought we were talking about you?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ No¡­ Yes¡­¡± ¡°Charlotte, you¡¯re not making a lot of sense.¡± Looking away, she drinks more of the milk, but moonlight reflects from the tears trailing down her cheeks. Iy an arm over shoulders, kiss her face. She¡¯s chilled, tasting salty. ¡°You want to find your mother. He wants his daughter back.¡± I rub at my forehead. ¡°I hate seeing him like this too. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but he¡¯ll get over it.¡± She turns to look at me. ¡°You think so?¡± ¡°Time¡¯s a great healer. Georgie turning up like that might not have been pleasant for him, but it is a kind of closure.¡± But doubt crawls through my gut and my words. ¡°I''m not so sure.¡± Swilling the dregs of my milk around in the mug, ¡°You might be right. It was a low blow on her part. But I''m not sure what we can do about it, other than being here for him.¡± She tips her head back, draining her mug, setting it to one side. ¡°There''s one thing I can do.¡± There¡¯s a tremor in her voice. I wait, but she¡¯s stalled and as I look down, a lock of hair winds between her fingers¡­ You¡¯ll never make a poker yer¡­ She notices me looking and deliberately, she disentangles the knot of hair then folds her hands around her knees again. ¡°Talk to me, Charlotte. What is this really about?¡± ¡°I¡­ wanted to talk to you about it before I did anything.¡± She¡¯s gulping, stuttering her words. ¡°I don''t want you to be angry with me.¡± ? Tread carefully¡­ ¡°Why would I be angry?¡± ¡°He wants his daughter.¡± ¡°He can''t have her. You can¡¯t give her back to him. Neither can I.¡± ¡°He could have another daughter.¡± Her meaning takes a moment to prate. ¡°Charlotte, are you telling me you want to get pregnant? By James?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she whispers. Ahhh¡­ Letting out air, I say, ¡°Are you sure that''s what you want to do¡­?¡± I speak slowly, carefully. ¡°¡­ What with your college work and wanting to be an engineer and all...¡± ¡°I have all my life to do the things I want. You too, nearly as much. But he... he doesn''t have so much time and... And I want him to have the chance to see her grow up¡­¡± She swallows hard. ¡°But you¡¯re my husband¡­¡± She speaks so quietly, her head low. Her fingers knot together, then unknot, then tangle again. I reach, tugging her hands apart. Taking one of them in mine, I kiss cold fingers then hold them between my warm palms. She gulps and a sob breaks free. ¡°You''re doing too much crying recently,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed you trowelling on the makeup, trying to pretend you¡¯re okay.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what else I can do to help him. But I didn¡¯t want¡­. I always thought that if it happened¡­ Well, that it would be between the two of you. Fifty-fifty if it was you or him. And that would have been fine. I know it would. But this way, you¡¯d be cut out and¡­. and¡­.¡± The words and the tears run away with her and she falls into sobs, racking her lungs and snatching at her throat. How do I feel about this? What¡¯s the right thing to say¡­? T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡­ that will stand up¡­ ¡­ andst¡­ ¡­ and work¡­ ¡°Charlotte, give me a few minutes will you. It¡¯s kind of a lot to take on board all at once. I''m going to make a couple more hot drinks, but don''t go away. I''ming back. I just need to think.¡± I turn, heading for the kitchen, but mid-movement, I turn again, pointing a forefinger. ¡°I mean that. Don¡¯t move. I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes.¡± I make the coffee from scratch, grinding beans to give my hands something to do. As they growl and judder into powder, I set milk on to heat. She always loved him more¡­ Is that true? No¡­ She¡¯s always loved him differently¡­ ¡­ but she married me¡­ ¡­ If he¡¯d asked her, she¡¯d have married him¡­ He gave her to me¡­ Could have kept her for himself¡­ ¡­ He funded the house too¡­ ¡­ Helluva wedding present¡­ ¡­ How do I ever repay all that? ? This would do it¡­ ¡­ Am I sure of that? ? ? Yes. Coffee spurts, and I tip in the hot milk, then glug a shot of brandy to finish it off. As an afterthought, I snatch a couple of sheets from the roll of kitchen towel. Mugs in hand, I return outside where my wife sits sniffling, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Thrusting the tissues at her, I sit beside her again, and when she has her nose back under control, pass her the coffee. ¡°Charlotte, if you are sure this is what you want, you have my support. James and I agreed long ago that if we had a family with you, it would be our family.¡± ¡°You don''t mind? You¡¯re sure?¡± ¡°I¡¯m absolutely sure.¡± I grip her chin, turning her face to mine with the one hand, wiping her eyes with the other. ¡°Please don¡¯t be so upset. Listen¡­¡± I squeeze her chin, gently shaking her head. ¡°¡­ I¡¯ve known James longer than you. A lot longer. Our Triad may have started almost identally, but now it¡¯s the Three of us. If one of us needs something, the other two help¡­.¡± In the dark, her eyes are white glints against a pale face. Her breath rises in silver clouds against the monochromendscape. ¡°¡­. James gave me everything, including you. I know he could have kept you to himself. If he¡¯d asked you to marry him, you wouldn¡¯t have blinked and that would have been the end of it. I know he did it for his own reasons, but nheless, he gave you to me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean?¡± ¡°I mean this. If you are willing to do this for him, then it''s time for me to bnce the books too. Help to give him what he needs. So far as I can, I¡¯ll help¡­ If you are sure?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure. But when we¡¯re¡­ um¡­¡± Iugh, releasing my hold on her. ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand. I¡¯m not volunteering for celibacy. I¡¯m not cut out for it.¡± I nudge her in the ribs, deliberately suggestively. ¡°But there¡¯s more than one way to skin a cat...¡± The moonlight shines on a spreading show of teeth. ¡°¡­ Just be prepared to have an open mind, and an open mouth, for a few months, while we get your oven set to bake. Alright?¡± ¡°Alright.¡± What else? ¡°Are you going to tell James what you¡¯re nning? Or would you like me to do it?¡± She shakes her head, a sharp, short movement. ¡°I don¡¯t want to say anything, not yet anyway.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± What the hell¡­? ¡°No. Things aren¡¯t always straightforward, are they? I¡¯d rather tell him, you know¡­ when it¡¯s already happened.¡± ¡°Charlotte, you¡¯re pretty healthy. More so than most. There¡¯s no reason to think¡­¡± ¡°No, I mean, if he knew it might¡­ inhibit him¡­¡± ? ¡°James? Inhibited? That¡¯ll be a first. But okay, I take your point¡­ One more thing.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± I sling an arm around her shoulders. ¡°Do I get the next one?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± ¡°Good. If that¡¯s settled, can we go inside, these stone gs are doing parts of my anatomy no good at all.¡± ***** Chapter 22 Chapter 22 Mitch - Twenty-Six Years Ago Has she been hasty? Over-reacted? Mitch wanders the lovely apartment. Light and airy. Just what she would have chosen for herself once she¡¯d earned the money. He''s taken notice of her tastes. In the one bedroom, the double, clean white linen. In the other, the same but on the twin beds. He volunteered to sleep alone¡­ He gave her choices¡­ She makes herself tea, sits on the window seat looking out over the marina¡­ That wonderful Christmas¡­ That beautiful ship¡­ Another harbour¡­ His love-making¡­ She sets down the teacup, cing it carefully on the saucer. A finger stroking the line of her jaw, she watches as a rowing eight makes its way between pleasure-boats, the hull slicing through the water with surprising speed. Sailing yachts and motor cruisers line this side of the harbour wall, some with proud owners waxing decks or touching up paintwork. To the far side, fishing boats bob in their moorings beside stacks ofs, coiled ropes, hydrants and hoses. Tall masts reach for the sky, mirrored down into shimmering water, their pennants and gs rippling. Gulls screech and as one of the small day-ferries pulls between the harbour walls, its horn sts. She''s been foolish¡­ ¡­ Panicked. This man isn¡¯t her brother. He isn¡¯t Stephen. He doesn¡¯t want to cage her. He wants to set her free. He loves her? Really? Really. Can she catch him before he leaves? Talk with him? Maybe¡­ Spinning, Mitch snatches up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and heads out. ***** The frontage is bright with new paint and freshly cleaned brick and stonework. A smallwn area is neatly clipped, scented of fresh hay. A tall billboard stands by the entrance, painted in cheerful colours; cartoon cows and sheep frolicking in a bright green meadow under a daffodil sun. ¡°Blessingmoors¡­¡± Mitch stands on the doorstep, raps the well-polished brass knocker, smart against its dark green background. There is no reply. After a few moments, she knocks again. Still no answer. She frowns then passes to a nearby window where clean white paint frames polished ss. The sashes on the inside are new, recements probably for older cords. Thetch and sneck are again of mirror-polished brass. Cupping her hands around her face she peers inside; a lounge or waiting area perhaps, with low settees, a coffee table and a stack of magazines and children''sics. But no people. She moves back to the door and knocks again. Still with no reply, she tries the handle, but the door doesn''t move. Mitch moves to the window on the other side. This time, she can''t see in. A blind conceals the interior. She keeps moving, following the wall around a corner and to the rear, away from the eyes of the world. Crossing tidily mown grass shees to a concreted area ending in a tall brick wall. And she hesitates. The brickwork here is unwashed. Crudely sprayed graffiti; sexually unlikely suggestions, racial slurs and the politicalment of the unthinking and the unknowing, sits by crude images; coarse, badly drawn. At the top, sunlight glints from jagged edges that poke from moss and ancient concrete. Perhaps the building is still being renovated... There is a gate, heavily built but old and rotted. When she tries thetch, something resists from the other side. But as she tries again, pushing harder, screws suck out from sockets in ancient timbers and, screeching protest, the gate opens. She passes through then stops. Tarmac, broken and crumbling, covers a yard strewn with litter: Fast-food cartons and drinks bottles compete with cigarette butts, used condoms and broken ss. An old mattress lies soaked and stinking, surrounded by foil and hypos. In one corner, a drain blocked by rotted newspaper and stic bags centres a fetid pool. Double gates, as high as the wall and wide enough to take vehicles, are barred on the inside. The only clean thing to be seen is a car, a top-end model, new and freshly waxed but with the tyres sshed green by the filthy water. The red-brick walls of the building itself are ck at the base, glistening green above, and dark-zed windows are barred on the outside. There is only one door, solidly constructed in steel although rusted in ces. There is no handle, just a lock;rge, heavy-duty, intended to deter. Unsure, Mitch hovers. This isn¡¯t what she expected. What did she expect? Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. A breeze ruffles her hair. With the smallest of whines, the door swings slightly ajar. A ck slot beckons inside. Her heart drumming, tentatively, she reaches, pulls the door wider¡­ Inside: a grey dimness; a peeling notice on the back of the door: Emergency Exit: Lift Bar. Stone steps lead up and forward to some brighter light, perhaps a hallway. What might be sunshine spills from the front of the building. But as she steps forward, inside; to right and left, more steps, narrow and winding, leading both up and down; anding on some spiralling stairwell from basement to¡­ ¡­ upwards¡­ The stairwell is dark, dank. It smells of mildew and abandonment, rats and hopelessness. Ragged holes gape through the ster, bleeding wires that anchor ancient cobwebs. What''s that sound? Sobbing? It echoes down the stygian well of the stairs. A voice screams, pleads and ends in a whimper. A ng. The sound of metal on metal¡­ A voice; loud, violent. ¡°Shut the fuck up or you''ll know about it.¡± Another scream. A female scream. Then the metallic ng again¡­ ¡­ Boots stamping away to¡­ somewhere¡­ ¡­ and silence. She rubs slick palms. Her breathing sharp and shallow, spine and armpits drenched and with the cold reek of sweat on her skin, Mitch takes a step up, then another. Her heels click on peeling linoleum and she pauses to slip them off. Then, shoes in hand, stepping carefully on timbers which creak and give, she continues upwards. At the top, a corridor stretching right and left. To one end, darkness, perhaps another stairway. To the other, a window; small, the ss whited over and with the silhouette of bars cast over the paint. A single bulb dangles on a cord, casting a sparse light. Ancient radiators set against one wall give no heat. Stale cigarette smokepetes with the raw stench of urine. And along the length of the corridor, doors; steel, set in heavy metal frames and with sliding peepholes. Heavy bolts at top and bottom partner a drop-bar in the centre. From the dark hollow at the end of the corridores the sound ofughter and cursing; crude language; the kind that cheapens speaker and listener. But ites no closer. Mitch tries to suck a little saliva into her mouth, swallowing against a tight throat. Something skitters by her, and she startles, pushing a fist to her mouth to suppress the shriek. Eyes darting, she follows the movement, but the rat isn¡¯t interested in her. It goes about its business, vanishing into a crevice in worm-infested floorboards while Mitch, panting, stares at the doors. She creeps to the nearest, biting down against revulsion as ancient carpet sucks at her soles. Laughter rebounds once more down the passage and she freezes, but the noise is no closer than it was. Slowly, carefully, she slides the peephole. Well-greased, it opens with barely a sound, but nheless, faces swing her way at the slight scrape of metal. Young faces. Female faces. Some pretty. Some not so much so. But all frame eyes wide with terror. Inside; a long narrow room. To the far end, a window, painted out and barred. Lined along either side are metal-framed beds. Even from here, Mitch can see that the frames are bolted to the floor. And with each bed, an upant, shackled at the ankle. Some lie on the thin mattresses, others sit on the bed, a scanty nket tugged around shoulders. As Mitch peers into the gloom, one of the girls opens her mouth as though to scream¡­ ¡°Shhh¡­ Shhh... It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m a friend.¡± So many: some barely women, some barely children. All so young. Faces pale and drawn. Eyes red with tears and hopelessness. Some bear bruises to limbs or face. Many stand, reaching out hands; imploring, weeping, a rising babble of words that Mitch doesn¡¯t understand ¡°Shhh¡­ Don¡¯t let them hear.¡± A girl to the fore turns, yammering something to the others, waving down with her palms and the others fall silent. Mitch hisses through the draw-hole. ¡°I¡¯ming. I¡¯ll help. But you have to be quiet.¡± Do they understand her words? It doesn¡¯t matter. A ck hush now from beyond the door, Mitch eases the top bolt which slides smoothly and silently open. The bottom bolt too. But she struggles with the bar which grates a protest as she first lifts, then yanks it from tight sockets. She stiffens at the slight noise, air juddering from her lungs as she listens¡­ Nothing¡­ ¡­ but a taut silence¡­ The door opens. A dozen sets of eyes follow the finger she raises to her lips; eyes of blue, hazel, green and ck; set in faces pale, dark, tawny and tanned. A girl with glossy ck curls and huge golden irises set in a face of honey and cream is nearest. Silently, she lifts a foot onto the bed, disying the iron cuff which fetters her to the frame, and the welt, raw and weeping, where it gnaws at her ankle. Mitch sits by her on the bed, examining the shackle, padlocked tight. She opens her bag, scrabbling inside for anything that might help¡­ ¡­ a nail-file, hair grips¡­ anything at all¡­ She fingers the padlock. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything,¡± she says, looking up at its prisoner. The girl frowns, shaking her head. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything. Not now. Not like this¡­¡± From somewhere in the depths of the building,es the bang of a door and the tter of boots Mitch freezes. So do the women. The footsteps grow louder¡­. Coming this way¡­. Mitch dashes for the door. ¡°I''lle back. I promise I''lle back. I promise¡­.¡± From behind her comes a rising cacophony of voices, pleading, weeping entreaties. Denial¡­ Banging bolts closed, jamming the bar into its socket, she hisses into the sight-hole. ¡°I¡¯ll get help. I¡¯ll come back.¡± Then she slides it closed and¡­ ¡­ scanning, she looks for cover; left, right¡­ A shadow¡­ the least of covers. Trembling, she dashes, pressing back tight into the narrow shelter of the farthest doorway¡­ Shoes¡­ Panic spikes through her and she sprints back to the door, snatches them up from the putrid carpet, then dashes back to her scant shelter. A silhouette marches for the door she just abandoned. ¡°Shut the fuck up. Or do you want me to shut it for you?¡± The bar she banged down, bangs up again. The bolts crash back on their fittings. The door flings back. ¡°Whoever¡¯s making that fucking racket, if it doesn¡¯t stop right now, you¡¯ll all get it. Right? So, whoever speaks English, tell everyone. We can always start the fun early. Got that?¡± There is not a sound in reply. The door ms. The bolts m. The bar ms. And the boots stamp back down the corridor and into the darkness at the end. Back-handedly, Mitch wipes tears from her cheeks that she¡¯d not realised were there, then bolts for the stairs¡­ At the bottom, she jams on her shoes, taking breaths in great heaving gulps, then turns, pushing the door open. ¡°Can I help you?¡± Her heart makes a great bound. Blood ms through her in a wave of pressure that stops her throat and sets her fingertips humming. She turns¡­ A woman stands there. Half-way down the steps that lead to the front, dispassionately, she surveys Mitch. Blue-uniformed, her hair set back in a, her lips pressed thin¡­ ¡°Can I help?¡± she repeats. ¡°I was looking for Mr Klempner. Larry Klempner. He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s in charge here. Is that right?¡± ¡°Mr Klempner isn''t here. He is out of the country on business for several days now.¡±. ¡°Oh, I''ll be on my way then.¡± Mitch turns, exits and skitters away. The nurse watches her leave then closes the door and drops the bar. Lips pursed, she stares at nothing for a moment then heads up to the main office at the front. Picking up the telephone receiver, she dials a number. ¡°Officer Corby please.¡± ***** Chapter 23 Chapter 23 Michael ¡°Think he¡¯ll be talkative?¡± James shrugs. ¡°Who can guess with that bastard?¡± He casts down. ¡°Charlotte?¡± She¡¯s tight, controlled, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m alright.¡± Mmmm¡­ The guard at the counter goes through the usual rigmarole¡­ Got to have their procedures I suppose¡­ ¡­ sliding the daybook across the counter. He taps a cracked fingernail on the bottom row. ¡°Name and signature there, sir. And some ID, please.¡± I hand over my driving license. ¡°I¡¯ll just be a moment.¡± The guard scans the license, stapling the copy to the rest of his paperwork, passes it back then turns to James. ¡°Now you, sir.¡± He repeats the performance with James and Charlotte, then ¡°And your car keys, please.¡± I hand them over and he hangs them on a keyboard at the back of the reception area. ¡°Thank you, sir. You can go through now.¡± The interview room is as dismal as ever¡­ Can¡¯t they ever give these ces some fresh paint? And a couple of extra light-bulbs¡­ Footsteps have trailed a path over worn linoleum and the reek of cigarette smokepetes with stale cabbage. Klempner¡¯s waiting, sitting behind the barrier. His gaze flicks between me and James then settles on Charlotte as she takes her seat facing him. ¡°Thank you foring.¡± His expression is schooled t but polite, his tone just as much so. She flushes. ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡± The prison-issue clothes are shabby, but well pressed, immacte, his hair well cut, fingernails trimmed and clean. He sits with his hands on the counter, fingers interwoven, thumbs circling each other as though this were no more than a job interview or perhaps a niece visiting a favourite uncle. Ignoring me and James, ¡°And what would you like to talk about today?¡± I push the paper up to the barrier. ¡°Does that mean anything to you?¡± His gaze flicks to mine then to the paper. He leans in, looking more closely. ¡°An address? Should it?¡± He radiates boredom. Faked? ¡°I found it in the police files. Supposedly it was thest known address for Charlotte¡¯s mother.¡± Klempner¡¯s cheek twitches... ¡­ Yes, faked¡­ ¡°I¡¯m guessing you visited?¡± he says. ¡°What did you find?¡± ¡°We tried to visit, but the address no longer exists and hasn¡¯t for a long time. There¡¯s a supermarket and a car park on the site now.¡± Klempner sucks his teeth. ¡°It may have been a dead end to begin with. Bech was fairly creative about muddying the records. It was a good part of what he did; keeping the dogs sniffing in the wrong direction...¡± A shudder runs through Charlotte, seated next to me. Klempner¡¯s gaze flickers to her, his face a nk. Under the counter, Iy a hand on her thigh and she settles. ¡°So the address was bogus in the first ce?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Klempner inhales. ¡°It probably was. I lost track of her. And Bech¡­¡± He pauses. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing, just thinking.¡± ¡°About what?¡± His head tilts back. He regards Charlotte under lowered lids. ¡°Bech wasn¡¯t happy about Mitch,¡± he says eventually. ¡°It¡¯s possible he tried to misdirect me too.¡± ¡°I thought he was your reliable henchman?¡± ¡°And who told you that?¡± Assumptions¡­? Charlotte breaks in. ¡°Bech¡­ Corby as I knew him¡­ He knew my mother? He didn¡¯t like her?¡± ¡°No, he didn¡¯t. But then, Bech didn¡¯t really like anyone but Bech. He had his own agenda.¡± ¡°Which was?¡± ¡°Making himself very wealthy.¡± ¡°So why did you work with him?¡± ¡°He was efficient¡­ most of the time anyway. He generally had good ideas and could put them into practice. It was his suggestion that I send you to that farm up north.¡± She inhales sharply. She okay? I try to take her hand in mine, but she tugs it away. ¡°But why? I thought I was going to be punished for murder, but I woke up there.¡± ¡°Murder?¡± Klempner frowns. ¡°Why would you think that?¡± ¡°Supervisor Jenkins¡­¡± she suddenly swallows her words. ¡°Jenkins was hit by a truck. Why¡­?¡± Better stop this¡­ I interrupt. ¡°So why did you send her to that farm?¡± He ignores me, addressing Charlotte. ¡°Jenkins was dead. I had to get you out of the way. Left to his own devices, Bech would almost certainly have killed you. Or arranged that you died. I wanted you alive.¡± ¡°So you sent me to the farm and set a spy on me? Why there?¡± He taps a forefinger, the nail click-clicking on tired formica. ¡°I wanted you to grow up like your mother.¡± Christ! Charlotte recoils. Shock ricochets over her face. ¡°You wanted me as a substitute for her? Is that it?¡± ¡°You could put it that way, yes.¡± ¡°For what? To take your revenge on me? Because she left you?¡± He leans forward on folded arms, his face almost touching the grill. ¡°You got it right the first time. I wanted you as a substitute for her.¡± Why is he saying all this? Admitting this? Charlotte leans forward too, her face almost meeting his save for the barrier. ¡°You imagine I would have wanted you?¡± she hisses. ¡°Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated me when I was little? It¡¯s been over twenty years. You¡¯re obsessed. You¡¯re fucking obsessed!¡± The guard moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders. ¡°Behave yourself, Larry...¡± There is something in the guard''s stance; something in his expression¡­ He dislikes Klempner? Really dislikes him? Something personal? And Klempner¡¯s face¡­ ¡°¡­ If you go upsetting your visitors, you¡¯ll not be getting any more of them.¡± Looking for an excuse to cut his privileges? Klempner¡¯s eyes sh sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for a moment¡­ The monster¡­ ¡­ before he schools his features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity¡­ ¡°Yes, Mr Harnd.¡± Apparent meekness. Apparent obedience. All fake. What¡¯s going on? Jamesys a hand on Charlotte¡¯s. ¡°Calm down,¡± he murmurs. ¡°It¡¯s past.¡± It¡¯s the first thing he¡¯s said. I want to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut short¡­ Charlotte shuffles in her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, ¡°So what would you like to talk about?¡± The rage drains from her. ¡°Will you tell me something about my mother?¡± There¡¯s pleading in her voice. ¡°Something personal.¡± His head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. ¡°She had a thing for butterflies.¡± "Butterflies? A thing? What do you mean?" ¡°I mean, she liked butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.¡± He reaches back, tapping behind himself. ¡°And she¡¯d painted one on the wall of her apartment.¡± ¡°She was artistic? A painter? A good painter?¡± ¡°What I saw of her work was very good. Very realistic.¡± He sucks at his teeth. ¡°Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had she chosen that route.¡± Charlotte seems to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, ¡°She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself somewhere... slippers, pyjamas...¡± Charlotte sits back in her chair. ¡°Pyjamas?¡± ¡°Yes, pyjamas.¡± He sucks in his cheeks, looking amused. ¡°What¡¯s so surprising about that?¡± She mumbles a bit. ¡°Didn''t have it down as a pyjamas kind of rtionship.¡± In a tone like a desert, ¡°Long story.¡± Her eyes lift to his. ¡°Would you tell me about it?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± he muses. ¡°Perhaps the next time youe to see me.¡± Her face sets. ¡°Why not now?¡± ¡°It will encourage you to visit me again.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ What else?¡± Klempner gets that distant look again. ¡°She wore a ne with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was fond of it.¡± Charlotte sits back, her mouth opening and closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He nces at me with a questioning eye. I shrug. He avoids James¡¯ eye. From the purse she pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the grill. ¡°Is that it? The ne. That she¡¯s wearing there?¡± Klempner blinks, nces, then stiffens, looking more closely. ¡°Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did you get hold of that?¡± ¡°Michael found it in some old records¡­ The missing persons file on my father.¡± Her hand is shaking. ¡°Is that it? The ne she¡¯s wearing?¡± Klempner nces at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the photo. ¡°I''d like a closer look.¡± He looks to the guard who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a cursory inspection, then nods. Charlotte slides it under the grill and Klempner takes it carefully¡­ Something precious? ¡­ then sits staring at it. ¡°Is that the ne you were talking about?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ Yes, it is.¡± His voice is quiet as he looks up. ¡°Your father gave it to her.¡± ¡°That''s him in the photo.?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s Conners.¡± ¡°Were you still friends then?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± But the monosyblecks conviction. Charlotte doesn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°When was it? Where was it?¡± Klempner¡¯s words are slow. ¡°Towards the end, before... before...¡± He holds up the photo. ¡°Can I keep this?¡± Charlotte flushes then swallows. ¡°It''s the only one I have.¡± I slip a hand over hers. Her flesh is icy. ¡°It''s a copy of the original. James can make you another.¡± T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. Her fingers tighten into mine. She swings to James. ¡°You''re sure?¡± He nods without speaking. ¡°Then yes, if you want it, you can have it.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Klempner sits silently gazing at the image. ¡°I still have that ne you know. If you like, you can have it.¡± ¡°You have it?¡± Charlotte''s voice trembles. ¡°Why do you have it?¡± ¡°Another long story. But your father gave it to your mother. Since she''s not here, I suppose that makes it rightfully yours.¡± Her voice wavering, ¡°I thought they didn''t let you keep things like that in prison.¡± ¡°They don''t. I didn¡¯t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you spend so much time?¡± She sits bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. ¡°Why would you take that kind of trouble? You hate me.¡± He sits back, chews at a lip. ¡°I used to hate you. That''s true¡­¡± ¡°For something I had nothing to do with¡­¡± ¡°Your father...¡± He stalls then holds up the photo. ¡°Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give you something.¡± ¡°Is that really it?¡± asks James. Klempner folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him down. James stares back. Never try to out-stare a cat¡­ Where did I hear that? Charlotte looks between the two of them then, ¡°Why did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she was afraid of you?¡± Klempner holds her eyes for a long pause before speaking. ¡°It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about her well before then. As though she couldn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t what?¡± He shrugs. ¡°Mitch was damaged goods.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean. Damaged?¡± ¡°She had no capacity to love.¡± She gives him a look like a de. ¡°While you do? You mean she didn''t love you?¡± He sits back, folding his arms. ¡°No, she didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°She loved my father though¡­¡± His head tilts. ¡°I¡¯m not convinced of that.¡± ¡°But she married him?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not actually necessary to love someone to marry them.¡± ¡°Did you want to marry her?¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t get that far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to be with me.¡± ¡°But she didn¡¯t want you.¡± Her voice drips contempt. ¡°I¡¯m not convinced of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her from¡­ from giving herself¡­¡± ¡°And from that, you deduce that she had no capacity to love?¡± ¡°Why would she have left you at Blessingmoors?¡± James sucks air through his teeth. Klempner leans forward again, folded arms resting on the counter. ¡°She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came for you. I believed she would. But she didn¡¯t.¡± Charlotte, white-faced, could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. ¡°You don''t believe in softening the blow do you?¡± Klempner inhales. ¡°I thought you came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want a fairy tale?¡± Charlotte whispers. ¡°I want the truth to be a fairy tale.¡± The aggression seems to drain from him. ¡°And whatever led you to think life is like that?¡± There¡¯s a shudder running through her fingers to mine. ¡°It can be.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± He picks at his teeth, extracting a morsel of something. ¡°Is that why you married Eye-Candy here¡­?¡± He nods to me¡­ ¡°And him too?¡± He jerks a thumb at James. She tugs her fingers from mine again, hissing, ¡°What turns a man into something like you? What happened to you? I can¡¯t believe people like you are born. You¡¯re damaged goods too. Where do you come from? What made you?¡± And now, he sits frozen. Like a scene from some over-acted movie with the bad guys waiting it out, they stare at each other. James stirs, but I give him the smallest of head-shakes and he settles again. ¡°You''re brighter than your mother was, you know.¡± ¡°Are you saying my mother was stupid?¡± ¡°No, not at all. She was¡­ streetwise, and she believed in self-education. But she was limited. Not good with therger picture.¡± ¡°What are you suggesting?¡± asks James. ¡°That Charlotte inherited her intelligence from her father?¡± Klempner''s brow furrows. ¡°Actually, no. Now you ask, Conners was efficient and a good businessman. Reliable. But he was no bright bulb.¡± Charlotte, war in her eyes, interrupts. ¡°Are you going to answer my question? What happened to you? How did you be a killer?¡± His head bows. At length, he looks up again. ¡°What is it to you? My past?¡± ¡°You stole my life from me. Or tried to. You robbed me of my mother. You murdered my father and God knows how many other people have died because of you. You¡¯ve cast a shadow over my entire life.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± he drawls, ¡°you¡¯re here.¡± ¡°You''re a ver¡­¡± He shrugs. ¡°A rapist¡­¡± He jerks back. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Yes. You¡¯re a rapist. You sold women, and girls and boys to the gang-masters and¡­¡± ¡°I''ve never raped,¡± he insists. ¡°Your mother¡­¡± He stops. ¡°You¡¯re a murderer. You¡¯re not denying that?¡± He exhales, eyelids drooping. ¡°How does that happen? Who was the first person you killed?¡± Another of those drawn-out silences, then, ¡°Since you insist, it was my father. But it wasn¡¯t murder. It was self-defence.¡± Charlotte¡¯s jaw drops. She sits, her mouth opening and closing until, ¡°How old were you?¡± He squeezes his eyes closed, rubbing at his forehead, ¡°Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Does it matter?¡± ¡°Why? Why did you do it?¡± ¡°It was him or me. He was beating me¡­ going to kill me. I got him first.¡± She stares at him. ¡°Your father was a monster, and he turned you into a monster...¡± He simply waits, less response than a stone. At length, Charlotte says, ¡°What about your mother?¡± ¡°She was gone long before that.¡± ¡°She left you?¡± He hesitates. ¡°She was gone.¡± His face sets. Enough¡­ ¡°I think we''ve talked enough today,¡± I say. James Hmmphs agreement. Klempner raises weary eyes. ¡°I''d say so, yes.¡± He looks to Charlotte. ¡°Thank you for the photo. When youe to visit again, I''ll tell you about it.¡± Her eyes shooting arrows. ¡°And the ne? You said¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have it sent to you.¡± His eyes soften. He actually smiles. Weird or what¡­ ¡°¡­ Think of it as an early birthday present.¡± She blinks a couple of times. ¡°Birthday present? That would be early¡­¡± He holds up palms. ¡°All right, it¡¯s out by a few weeks, but it¡¯s not as though I can hold to a timetable in here, is it?¡± James, half-standing, one hand on the counter, pushes himself upright against his bad leg¡­ Charlotte licks her lips¡­ The wheels turning¡­. ¡°But¡­ my birthday¡¯s in October¡­¡± Klempner nods, casually at first then, stiffening, his voice tensing, ¡°October? October? What date?¡± ¡°Um¡­ thirty-first. Why? What does it matter?¡± Klempner stands, ¡°October thirty-first?¡± His voice drops to nothing. ¡°How old are you, Jenny?¡± ¡°I¡¯m twenty-five. Twenty-six next¡­ Why? What does it matter?¡± Christ... Is this going where I think¡­? James casts me a look of rising rm. ¡°You¡¯re sure of that?¡± Klempner¡¯s lips move. Nothing else does. ¡°Well¡­ yes. Michael found my birth-certificate but why¡­?¡± Charlotte stops in mid-sentence, backing away a step. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Jenny¡­¡± ¡°No!¡± Hands raised, pressed to his temples. ¡°Oh, Christ. What have I done?¡± ¡°No!¡± Charlotte screams the word. ¡°You''re mine,¡± he says. ¡°I always believed you were Conners'', but you''re mine.¡± Her breathes in short sharp bursts. ¡°You can''t know that. You said my mother... That she... you said she was a prostitute. It could have been anyone¡­¡± ¡°I took her away, that Christmas¡­ I tried to persuade her, to make her mine. There was only the two of us. And when we came back, she never... I''m sure of it. Jenny, you''re mine.¡± ¡°You''re not my father!¡± She stumbles backwards, pressing herself against the wall. ¡°You¡¯re not my father.¡± She¡¯s shrieking. ¡°You are not my father!¡± Klempner is ashen. He looks ill. Holding out hands, palms outstretched¡­ ¡°Jenny... Charlotte¡­¡± ¡°You''re not my father!¡± She keeps screaming the words, close to hysterical. I pull her in, enclose her in my arms. The guard, Harnd, wide-eyed, gives me the nod. ¡°You want me to...? ¡°No, it''s alright. We need to deal with this.¡± He backs away, but he¡¯s muttering into his phone. James, his nose almost pressed against the barrier. ¡°You beat her, starved her and locked her in the dark with the corpses of the murdered. And you wonder why she doesn''t want to know you? Why she would deny you?¡± The door behind Klempner bursts open, guards stampeding through. Half a dozen sets of hands mp around his shoulders, his arms¡­ Unresisting, he¡¯s hustled away. ***** Chapter 24 Chapter 24 Klempner ¨C The Present Mine¡­ My daughter¡­ N?velDrama.Org content rights. Mitch¡¯s daughter¡­ Alexanders¡¯ words haunt me¡­ You locked her in the dark with the corpses of the murdered... I try to escape into sleep¡­ ¡­ The stinking breath The blood-shot eyes, wild with rage The fist¡­ Da... No... And a scream of anger. ¡®Leave him alone you bastard! Don''t you touch him! Don¡¯t you dare touch him¡­¡¯ The smack of knuckles into flesh and another scream, now of pain¡­ ¡®Mommy! Don''t hurt Mommy!¡¯ The figure so tall¡­ The screams of pain bing shrieks¡­ The smack of knuckles into flesh¡­ The little figure grabs for something¡­ Anything¡­ ¡­ He swings the big metal stick with all his might, aiming for the ankles¡­ ¡®Stop hurting Mommy!¡¯ A scream of rage and pain. ¡®You little bastard!¡¯ ¡®Run, Lamb, Hide!¡¯ He bolts, dashing for the bedroom. His mother snatches up the golf club, then screams¡­ ¡®Bitch!¡¯ She screams again, and again¡­ After a while, the door ms. It goes quiet¡­ Peeping out from under the bed, ¡®Mommy?¡± She staggers up, mming the bolts on the door, top and bottom, then rushes across. ¡®It¡¯s alright, Lamb. He¡¯s gone now.¡¯ Crouching down, she rocks him in her arms¡­ Sobbing, ¡®You¡¯re bleeding, Mommy¡­¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s nothing, Sweetie. Don¡¯t worry.¡¯ She wipes his face with the cloth, squeezing warm soapy water. ¡®Is that better?¡¯ ¡®A bit.¡¯ ¡®Shhh... I know it hurts but let''s have a sleep. We''ll both feel better afterwards.¡¯ ¡®Will you tell me a story?¡¯ ¡®Of course I will.¡¯ She¡¯s talking all funny. ¡®What story would you like?¡¯ ¡®The one about the train to the zoo¡­¡¯ Carefully, she lifts him into the bed then climbs in beside him. ¡®Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Larry....¡¯ She speaks slowly, her voice going sort of blurry. ¡®Mommy?¡¯ ¡®I''m just a bit tired, Sweetie. I''m going to go to sleep now. You sleep too. It¡¯ll be better in the morning.¡¯ She pulls him close, humming as she strokes his hair. After a while, she stops humming and her hand falls still. ***** ¡®Mommy? I''m hungry. Is it time for breakfast?¡¯ But she doesn''t answer, doesn''t open her eyes. ¡®Mommy?¡¯ ¡­ ¡­ ***** ¡®Deanna, open up!¡¯ The door bangs. ¡®Fucking well open up. I know you''re in there. Your car¡¯s at the front. Open the fucking door!¡¯ After a minute the door bangs again, heaves; bangs and heaves, the bolts straining on their screws until, with a crash, it bursts open. He steps in. ¡®What the fuck?¡¯ Fanning against a buzzing tide of bluebottles, he stares down at the small, filthy figure on the floor. The kitchen bin lies across the tiles, the contents scattered: wrappers licked clean, tins wiped, one trailing what looks like dried blood. The small boy has an open gash on one hand, swollen, the skin stretched shiny and weeping green. ¡®Where is she? Where''s your mother?¡¯ The little boy drops his head, tears trickling. ¡®I don¡¯t like Mommy any more.¡¯ ¡®What? What the fuck¡¯s that that supposed to mean?¡¯ ¡®Mommy went to sleep. She won''t wake up and talk to me. I want her to tell me a story and she won¡¯t. And she''s gone all ck.¡¯ The man gapes then charges around the apartment. As he pushes the bedroom door open, clouds of flies swarm up and through and out. ¡®Fuck!¡¯ He turns, grabs the little boy and pushes him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. ¡®You stay in there. Don''t you fucking move from there.¡¯ The little boy sits, hunching small, trembling, listening to the tter and the cursing from beyond the door. The door ms open and the man marches in, reaching down to haul him up by the injured hand which oozes, slick and stinking. The little boy screams. ¡®It hurts it hurts!¡¯ ¡®Shut up! Shut the fuck up! We¡¯re going¡­¡¯ Out¡­ ¡­ Along a hall. Down the stairs. It smells nasty¡­ ¡­ and out of a door. It''s dark and cold. ¡®What about Mommy?¡¯ ¡®She''s gone.¡¯ ¡®Gone? When¡¯s sheing back?¡¯ ¡®She''s gone. She''s noting back.¡¯ ¡®But...¡¯ ¡®She''s gone. She¡¯s left. Don¡¯t you get it you stupid little turd? She''s sick of you. You said yourself she didn''t want to talk to you¡­¡¯ He yells, ¡®Mommeee....¡¯ But she doesn¡¯te¡­ ¡°Keep that fucking noise down!¡± I m awake, eyes wide into the dark. The peep-hole ps open. ¡°Shut the fuck up, Larry, or you''ll be on report.¡± Streaming with sweat, I nod and the hole slides shut. I''m stinking, chilled to the bone, shaking and my heart batters against my ribs. What''s happening to me? Locked in the dark with the corpse of the murdered... Your father was a monster, and he turned you into a monster... Alone in the semi-dark, I tremble, wiping moisture from the corners of my eyes The Story Continues In ¡®The Loss Of Innocence¡¯ ***** Chapter 25 Part Seven The Loss of Innocence Chapter 25 Part Seven The Loss of Innocence James ¡°You''re not my father!¡± Pushing herself backwards against the wall, Charlotte shrieks the words at him. Close to hysterical, almost frenzied with denial, utterly distraught, she screams, struggling against Michael when he tries to hold her, tries to calm her. The guard, Harnd looks increasingly rmed. ¡°You want me to...? ¡°No, it''s alright. We need to deal with this.¡± But he¡¯s is already talking into his phone, satisfaction etched on his face as more guards burst in, bundling the passive Klempner out. He looks over his shoulder as they hustle him away, his expression shell-shocked. Charlotte is still fighting against Michael, refusing to be held. ¡°Let¡¯s get her out of here,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll get her out. You get the car keys.¡± ¡°We all need to sign out.¡± ¡°Just take her out,¡± interrupts Harnd. ¡°I¡¯ll clear it at the counter.¡± As Michael heads for the reception, I have to drag Charlotte, resisting me all the way, to the car. Red- faced, wild-eyed and screaming, she fights me until atst, I grip her, swing her around and bring my hand across her face in a p that, as Michael appears, I see him recoil against from yards away. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Charlotte. Get inside.¡± Gulping, she shudders into submission and without a word, gets in the back, turning to face away from me as I step in beside her. On the return home, Charlotte¡¯s silence continues. She seems to be over the hysterics, but I almost preferred that to this non-response. I try to take her in my arms, but she stiffens, continuing her vigil out of the window. And when Iy a hand on her thigh, she doesn''t quite shrug me off, but she shrinks away, rejecting my touch. Michael''s eyes meet mine in the rear view, his brow furrowing. At home she goes to bed, closing curtains and shrugging away any attempt to talk. Michael joins her in therge bed we share, trying to lie close, but when I look in, she''s lying at the far side of the bed, turned away from him. Her eyes blink shut as I enter but I saw she was lying awake, staring at nothing. Later, I join them, easing in beside her in my usual ce. Charlotte rolls to the middle where she normally sleeps between me and Michael but when I try to touch her, she stiffens. Sleep escapes me for hours. When it finally ims me, brief and unsatisfying, I wake again to find Charlotte is gone. rmed, I prop myself up on an elbow, turn on the side-light, to realise Michael is also not there. I snatch up a robe, heading to find my grieving mermaid. At the door, I almost walk into Michael. He raises a finger to his lips. ¡°She¡¯s in the next room,¡± he says quietly, ¡°but she¡¯s sleeping at least.¡± ***** Twenty-Six Years Ago - Blessingmoors Bech stalks the office. ¡°Who was in charge of securityst night? And who was responsible for securing the perimeters? For the repair of that gate?¡± A woman in a blue nurse¡¯s uniform shifts from one foot to another. Her features are sharp-cut, severe. Sweat beads her forehead sheens her face. She looks down, licking at dry lips. For such an ordinary- looking man, Bech inspires a reaction. ¡°That would have been Jared, Mr Bech.¡± His expression, t-eyed, could etch ss ¡°Really? He¡¯s been with us long enough to know better. I want to see him. Right now.¡± A bead of sweat drips from the nurse¡¯s forehead, sshing to the tiled office floor. ¡°Yes, sir. He¡¯s upstairs. I¡¯ll fetch him. Would you like me to inform Mr Klempner of the intruder?¡± ¡°No, that''s fine, Helga. I''ll handle it.¡± Bech surveys her. She¡¯s rxing a little. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It wasn¡¯t your fault what happened, and you did the right thing calling me immediately.¡± Relief washes over her face and tumbles through her voice. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± ¡°So, who was she? What did she look like?¡± ¡°She was quite striking, sir. A red-head. Young, well-turned out, very beautiful.¡± He shoots her a nce. ¡°A red-head, you say?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°And she asked for Mr Klempner by name?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. She asked for ¡®Larry Klempner¡¯ and asked if he was in charge here.¡± ¡°Thank you, Helga. You can go. But send Jared to me. And call someone in to get that gate reced and secured.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ***** An hourter, a tap on the door. ¡°Mr Bech?¡± ¡°Come in, Helga.¡± Her eyes drop to the cooling corpse stretched out on the floor and the crimson pool inching over the tiles, then flick up again. ¡°Just a word, sir. There is a workman at the back installing a new gate. I¡¯ve sealed all the doors and windows, but¡­¡± ¡°Thank you, Helga. Yes, forewarned is forearmed. No more uninvited trespassers¡± Her eyes fall once more. ¡°And that¡­ sir?¡± ¡°The river. Where he¡¯ll be found. Let¡¯s spread the message.¡± ***** Bech watches, impassive, sipping coffee as what is left of Jared is carried away and Helga mops the floor. ¡°Anything else, sir?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s fine. You can go.¡± She nods, leaves. Bech paces the room, chewing a thumbnail. Klempner¡¯s whore¡­ What the fuck was she doing here? How much did she see? Hissing in frustration, he links hands behind his head, tilting back until his neck cracks. What to do about her? The obvious? She''s a looker. She''d get a good price. Ship her somewhere no-one speaks English, and no one cares¡­ Klempner¡­ Just how attached to the bitch is he? ? ? How would he react? ? Bech shudders. No¡­ Arrange an ident? Solve the problem at source¡­ Deny everything? ? Would he buy it? ? Very unlikely¡­ Shut her up then¡­ At least for now. Discredit her? T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. While he¡¯s still away¡­ Fait apli. Then back to business as usual. Grinning to himself, Bech reaches for the phone. ¡°It¡¯s Corby. Is Cappelli there? Thanks¡­ Cappelli? Yes, I''ve had a report¡­ Never mind who from. But this one''s for you. I¡¯m sure Drugs will be interested.¡± ***** Chapter 26 Chapter 26 Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago The air is cial, but although the breeze whips through my hair, I¡¯m not cold. Instead, invigorated, I feel strong and ready for anything. Standing by the frozen sea, I watch the wind drawing snow across the ice in a whirling dervish of frozen granules thatsh around my feet. And I think of thest time I did this, here, with her. Valentine¡¯s Daying up¡­ I¡¯ll be back in time. Get her a present¡­ What would she like? Something regional? She loved Helsinki¡­ Some of the local food? Then I remember her bending over the porcin, throwing up grax and vodka in equal measure¡­ Maybe not¡­ Jewellery? Still persuading her to wear the emeralds I gave her¡­ A piece of art? ? ? Perfect. I head for the town centre, searching for galleries and craft shops, not knowing just what I¡¯m looking for. But I¡¯ll know it when I see it¡­ Most are full of the kind of useless knick-knacks that are met with an ¡®Oh, how lovely. You shouldn¡¯t have.¡± greeting, then get pushed to the back of the cupboard: I-Heart-Helsinki fridge-mas, overpriced choctes and tee-shirts, dolls in fake Lander costumes. Weirdly, some of the gift shops are stocked with mementoes which seem to mepletely out of ce. Whoes to Helsinki to buy posters of London buses or ¡®New York They named it twice¡¯ tee- shirts? Am I missing something? Nope¡­ And then, there it is. Beautifully painted by some local artist with more Js and Ks in the name than English allows: a scene of the frozen sea, painted from almost where I stood only a couple of hours ago with ice grit-sting my clothes. A couple stand hand-in-hand looking out over a glinting scene of white and blue, and in the distance, a lone figure sits fishing. The price, like everything in Helsinki, is horrendous, but who cares? Money is nothing. Mitch is¡­ ¡­ Mitch. Padded and carefully gift-wrapped, I tuck the package under my arm and head back for the ferry port. Time to go home¡­ Home? When did I ever think of home before? She¡¯s waiting. ***** Michael ¡°How is she?¡± James props himself, both hands knuckled on the kitchen table, head bowed. ¡°The same. Not good. I¡¯d say she¡¯s gotten past denial, but I almost wish she¡¯d cry¡­ Get it out of her system. Instead, she behaves as though she¡¯s in shock.¡± He''s mourning the loss of a daughter¡­ She''s panicking over gaining a father... Both bereft¡­ ¡­ What a fucking mess. ¡°Shock is probably the right word¡­¡± I say. ¡°¡­ Discovering she has a psychopath for a parent. It¡¯s going to take time and support to get her past it.¡± He rubs the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing closed for a moment. ¡°I think,¡± he says, ¡°part of the problem is that not knowing much about him, she¡¯s cooked up some idealised vision of Conners in her imagination¡­¡± ¡°The perfect father who never was?¡± ¡°As it turns out, yes.¡± He rubs at the back of his head. ¡°How the hell do we deal with this?¡± ¡°Time may be the only thing that deals with it. We simply wait for her toe out of her funk. However¡­¡± I raise a forefinger¡­ ¡°¡­ What we might try is to deal with the practicalities.¡± ¡°Like?¡± ¡°Like, when did shest have a bath? Or a proper meal?¡± ¡°Don''t think she''s had a bath since we got back. Just sits there wallowing in pizza boxes and boil-in-a- minute noodles. I¡¯m happy to cook anything we can get down her, but first, we have to get her attention.¡± He jerks his chin towards the lounge. ¡°You want to get in there again? Give it another try? I think this needs your touch.¡± I pull up a seat, rock the chair back, cross my ankles up on the table. ¡°No, I don''t think so. Not this time. On this asion, I think she needs what you give her.¡± His eyes shift to mine. ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Yes, I think. Hugs aren¡¯t carrying this one. She needs knocking back into reality.¡± James straightens up, plucks at a lip. ¡°You might like to know,¡± I add, ¡°that I turned on the heating downstairs first thing this morning.¡± He Ahhhs in silence, then, ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right.¡± He stares into nothing for a long second, then, ¡°Come on then. You¡¯d better be there too but stay in the background if you prefer.¡± I follow him through to the lounge. Charlotte sits on the couch, hugging her knees, gazing ck-faced into the fire. She doesn¡¯t appear to notice us. What¡¯s she thinking...? ¡­ Feeling¡­.? Fear? Loss? ? ? Humiliation? James speaks. ¡°Charlotte?¡± There¡¯s no softness in his voice. She doesn¡¯t turn, maintaining her vigil of the mes. ¡°Mmmm?¡± Ram-rod straight, his arms folded, ¡°I expect you to look at me when I address you.¡± She hunches, then turns to face him. ¡°Sorry, Master.¡± ¡°Come here.¡± Charlotte uncrumples from her self-hug to stand, then shuffles across the room to stand before him. ¡°Yes, Master?¡± But she doesn¡¯t meet his eyes. Head low, her fingers wind and twist together, unwind then rewind¡­ Yes¡­ humiliation¡­ Her hair, unwashed since God-knows-when, hangs in greasy rat-tails and her face is sallow. Clothes are creased, spotted with what look like tomato stains, and she¡¯s still carrying traces of makeup she put on days ago; mascara gone panda-eyed. Doesn¡¯t smell great either¡­ James squares up to her. ¡°Charlotte, I am your Master. You will behave appropriately when we speak. Your face lowered in submission is eptable. Your head hanging in shame is not.¡± Her voice chokes. ¡°Master¡­¡± He takes her by the shoulders, pinning her, almost shaking her. ¡°Listen to me, Charlotte. Nothing has changed. Nothing. You are exactly the same person you were a few days ago.¡± Still she won¡¯t look at him. ¡°But I¡¯m not. I¡­¡± The words choke into a sob. Finally crying? Good¡­ For God¡¯s sake let it out¡­ ¡°The only thing that is any different is inside your head. You are not Jenny, the child victim. You are Charlotte, the woman who reinvented herself, who knew what she wanted and took on allers to get it. The woman who took the world by the throat and shook until it gave her what she deserved.¡± She¡¯s still gulping down sobs. James continues. ¡°Charlotte faced down everything life threw at her. I saw you do it. I saw you auction yourself to the highest bidder; to me; because doing so would take you where you wanted to go. Even though you knew it was dangerous. Even though your memories must have made that an appalling decision for you to take.¡± He¡¯s still holding her, jolting her at the shoulders to punctuate his words. And each shake draws a sob. ¡°I saw you face down the man who terrorised your childhood and who threatened you with assault and gang-rape. And just because that man might be, gically, your sire¡­ I don¡¯t say father¡­ that does not mean he has any power over you. Klempner has no hold over you unless you give it to him. And you are too strong to let that happen. Do you understand me?¡± ¡°Jenny didn''t have choices, but Charlotte does. And one of those choices is whether or not she lets something that is part of her past control her present and her future.¡± She swallows, her sobs subsiding a little. And now, he grips her chin, forces her face up to meet his. ¡°When you and I first met, I wanted you because I admired you. Not just liked you. Not just loved you, although all of that is true. I admired you. Your courage, your tenacity, that resilient core you have, your refusal to knuckle under. And I will not see you bend at the knee over something that does not matter. If Klempner was the sperm donor to your mother, that does not change who you are or what you are.¡± And finally, she looks up to James¡¯ face. His eyes soften at the corners. ¡°Just because Klempner allowed his monster of a father to turn him into a monster doesn''t mean that will happen to you. It hasn''t happened to you. You made different choices in the past. You will make different choices now.¡± She blinks tears then wipes a hand across her eyes. James draws a thumb across the streaks running down her cheeks. Her voice hollow, ¡°He said he was sorry¡­¡± James snaps, outrage in his tone. ¡°He has no right to say that. Sorry? What¡¯s different for him to be sorry about? He abused a child. The fact that it turns out he sired that child makes no difference. ¡®Sorry¡¯ isn¡¯t good enough. Sorry doesn¡¯t evene close to good enough.¡± Her head hangs again, her voice small. ¡°He¡¯s in prison.¡± He knocks her chin back up with a finger. ¡°So Klempner¡¯s locked up. What of it? That¡¯s to punish him¡­¡± Keep your anger under control¡­ From behind, I wave my palm down a couple of times. Cool it¡­ James scowls at me but moderates his tone, gentler now as he speaks to her. Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. ¡°¡­ And to keep him from doing more damage than he already has. Do you think that gives him any kind of right to salvation? How would a man like that ever earn redemption?¡± Her voice is trembling. ¡°I always thought¡­ even when it was at its worst¡­ I thought that somewhere out there, she must be there. My mother. And she¡¯d been with my father. With Frank Conners¡­¡± And finally, we¡¯re getting it¡­ What she¡¯s thinking¡­ What¡¯s really upsetting her¡­ ¡°¡­ and they''d have been happy together while he was still alive. Before Klempner murdered him. And there must have been some reason that she left me there. With him. She couldn¡¯t have just abandoned me. But if he was my father¡­ Klempner¡­ Maybe that¡¯s why she did it. Maybe she was so¡­ horrified¡­ that I was his¡­ Maybe she simply didn¡¯t want me. She just left me with him¡­¡± She raises eyes red-rimmed and swollen, looking first at James, then at me. ¡°Do you think he raped her?¡± Is that what¡¯s bothering her? She thinks she¡¯s the child of rape¡­? ¡°No,¡± James snaps, his voice decisive. ¡°Klempner¡¯s admitted to a lot; murder, envement, terrorism, but he denied rape. Given his willingness to admit everything else, I¡¯m inclined to believe him. I don¡¯t think he forced your mother.¡± She uncoils a bit, weeping again, but now it has the sound of release¡­ I move to stand behind her, wrap my arms around her. She shudders, her weight rxing back into my arms. ¡°You''re right.¡± Her voice is still shaky, but some calm is returning. ¡°You¡¯re right. With everything else, he would have no reason to lie.¡± James stands back, letting me hold her. ¡°That¡¯s better. I know you¡¯re unhappy, but at least we¡¯re talking about it now.¡± He nods me to the cab. ¡°Michael, why don¡¯t you open a bottle of wine. I think we¡¯ll share a drink and then you¡­¡± He nts a long forefinger on Charlotte¡¯s chest¡­ ¡°¡­ are going to have a long soak in the bath. Michael or I will join you if you wish. Or you can be by yourself if you prefer. After that¡­¡± ¡°After that, Master?¡± ¡°After that, we are going to share a meal¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m not very hungry, Master¡­¡± ¡°So, we will share a small meal. Now, sit by the fire, get warm and drink your wine.¡± She submits, sits and returns to staring into the embers. Jamesys a hand on my shoulder, murmuring, ¡°Can you keep herpany for a while. I want to get the basement ready.¡± ¡°Of course. What are you nning on doing?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to take her to the edge then tip her over.¡± ¡°Don''t overdo it.¡± ¡°That''s what you''re there for. ¡° ***** Chapter 27 Chapter 27 She has her bath, returning an hour or soter scented ofvender and rose. We drink, but not too much. We eat, sharing Charlotte¡¯s favourite treats; cheese, bread, olives, strawberries and cream. She sits on the rug by the fire, not hitting the food the way she normally does, but nheless, she eats. Then she sits, inert, leaning back against my legs as I stroke her hair. Over her head, James cocks a brow to me, tilts his head. I nod. He rises, takes Charlotte¡¯s hand and pulls her upright, then kisses the fingers. ¡°You are going to go downstairs now, undress and wait for us. Michael and I will join you in a few minutes¡­¡± She hesitates¡­ ¡°And the next words I expect to hear from you are ¡®Yes, Master¡¯.¡± She bows her head. ¡°Yes, Master.¡± ¡°Good.¡± I pass her a ss of Rioja¡­ ¡°Now, drink your wine¡­ And I want you to have another ss after that.¡± This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. ***** Downstairs, in the basement, James¡¯ ¡®yroom¡¯, the demesnes of a Master, she¡¯s waiting for us. As he instructed, she¡¯s naked, kneeling, head lowered and the ss she took down with her, empty. She¡¯s goosing a little. The heating hasn¡¯t quite dispelled the chill yet, but that won¡¯t matter. With what James has in mind, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll soon be warm. And the hearth glows; old logs dropping to embers, new logs flickering new mes. The light shimmers gold and amber. Candles reinforce the honeyed glimmer, sending dancing shadows over wall and arch. James gestures me towards her and then to a ceiling hook. ¡°Charlotte, stand up.¡± She rises, chewing her lip, trembling slightly¡­ Cold? ¡­ Or nervous? Stepping close, I wrap arms around her, holding her against myself, giving her the heat of my body. One hand winding into her hair, with the other I caress the smooth skin of her back and shoulders, ¡°Shhh¡­ It¡¯s alright. Calm down.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going to happen?¡± ¡°Remember your safety words. You may need them.¡± She jolts. Her eyes dart. ¡°Is he angry? Is he going to punish me?¡± ¡°No. No, he¡¯s not angry... You¡¯ve done nothing to be punished for. But he is very concerned for you. We both are.¡± ¡°What then?¡± How to say this? ¡°He¡¯s going to take you out of yourself, then we¡¯ll both bring you back home. You understand?¡± ¡°Alright.¡± But there¡¯s still a tremor in her voice. My hand cupping her cheek. ¡°You can always say ¡®No.¡¯ Do you want to? No-one is going to force you.¡± She falters, then dumbly, she shakes her head. Taking her hand, Ice my fingers with hers. ¡°Come on. You¡¯ll be fine. And you¡¯ll feel better afterwards.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure. You trust James, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes, I do.¡± ¡°Then trust him now. Let him take you the way you need to go.¡± Passive, she follows me as I lead her to where James waits, a flogger in one hand, swishing it casually. I suppose to any that didn¡¯t know him, he might appear severe, frightening even, but as his eyes follow her, I see the softness there¡­ ¡­ the pity¡­ Positioning her under the anchor point, I press my lips to hers before, loudly enough for her to hear clearly, ¡°Rope, cuffs or spreader?¡± ¡°Cuffs will be fine.¡± As I walk by him to the racks, quietly, ¡°She¡¯s jittery. Be careful.¡± ¡°I will,¡± he murmurs, ¡°And she¡¯ll be more herself afterwards.¡± ¡°Just what I told her myself.¡± A pair of cuffs are a snug fit to her wrists; a carabiner and a length of rope connect her to the hook, restraining her tautly upwards. ¡°Open your legs, Charlotte.¡± Meekly, she obeys, and I check her colour; hands, fingers, face, then casting across to James he micro-nods me to her. Moving around her, I let my hands drift over her upstretched body; her hips, her waist, her breasts. Muscles tremble and quiver. And she smells cool, with no scent of arousal. Drifting fingers between her thighs I test her, then ¡°I¡¯ll just be a moment.¡± I head for the cupboard where I keep a store of massage oils. Passing James, I murmur, ¡®Dry.¡¯ He slow- blinks understanding. A little neutral oil on my palms and I run my hands over her again; seducing her, coaxing her arousal. My hands on her waist, my fingers almost encircle her as I work her spine with my thumbs. Then slipping upwards; her ribs, her muscles, her shoulders; gradually I ease her, rubbing in, digging into the tension knotted there, making her feel me; making her know I am there. And all the while, as I massage her, soothe her, James stands to her fore. My hands on her, she watches him. He moves unhurriedly, deliberately; removing his jacket to hang it neatly over the back of a seat. His tie is next. Tugging at the knot, he loosens it, unravels it, then unfastens the top button of his shirt before draping the tie over his jacket. Reaching around, I cup a breast, nuzzling into her hair and her neck. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful. I never forget how beautiful you are. Or that you are my wife. Or that I love you. And I will never let anyone hurt you. Never. And neither will he.¡± She watches him, her breathing elerating as I caress her. My hands cupping and stroking, my chest pressed to her spine, I love her with my body. James, one at a time, removes his cuff-links, again setting them to one side, then unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his shoes. Barefoot now, stripped to the waist, he takes up the flogger again, holding it in one hand, resting it on the other as the tails swing by his thighs. And he watches. And he waits. Her Master¡­ Her tension is easing; the anxiety flowing away, the tremble dying away. And slowly, smoothly, the perfume of her arousal curls up and out and around, like smoke in the air, hazy and drug-like. One hand rubbing circles on a nipple, I venture south again with the other¡­ ¡­ and this time, she¡¯s warm; dampening¡­ That¡¯s my girl¡­ I slow-blink to James, still silently watching, toying with the flogger. He eye-points me away from her and I position myself to watch, close enough to see her face clearly and to hear her. Pushing the flogger into his belt, he approaches her, standing to her fore. His hands cupping her face, he kisses her, at first softly, but then with increasing passion, forcing her mouth open with his. Then, still pinning her cheeks between his hands, ¡°You are mine,¡± he says. ¡°And you are Michael¡¯s. You are not his. You have never been his. You never will be his as long as you exercise the choices which are yours. You understand me?¡± Charlotte swallows and nods. Already, she¡¯s wearing that semi-mad expression she has for him. When she looks at him like that, she''s already halfway there... The flogger handle under her chin, he tilts her head back. ¡°Say it. I want to hear the words.¡± Her breathing ripples. ¡°I¡¯m not his. I¡¯m yours. And I¡¯m Michael¡¯s.¡± ¡°Good. That¡¯s better. And thest point¡­¡± James pushes up with the handle. ¡°¡­The most important point is that you are yours. You belong to yourself. No-one ever seeded in taking that from you, even as a child. You have always been too strong to let that happen. Don¡¯t let it happen now.¡± She doesn¡¯t reply, but her eyes are huge green-rimmed pools, pupils dark as the night sky. He regards her for a long moment, then lowers the flogger, releasing her. ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± He touches her arm. ¡°You¡¯ve stopped trembling. That¡¯s good too. Now¡­¡± He stands back, flicks the tails over her belly and breasts, a mere kiss of supple leather that sends a shiver over her skin¡­ ¡°¡­ this is where you fly¡­¡± He moves around behind her and with a twist of the wrist, catches her on the calves with the tails. She jolts and gasps¡­ Did he mean to start that hard¡­? But he repeats the motion on the other calf. It¡¯s got to sting, and she whimpers. ***** Chapter 28 Chapter 28 James I¡¯ve often tested her before; tested her limits, tested how far I can take her before pain-pleasure simply bes pain. But I¡¯ve never before set out to take herpletely to the edge and, perhaps, just a little beyond. But this time, on this asion, I want her to travel out from the real world and into that heady space where pain and pleasure merge into sensation and where the mind and body ride the whirlwind together. Michael has rxed her. And he¡¯s right. She¡¯s arousing. Her perfume is rising and there¡¯s that sheen to her skin she gets; the flush over her breasts which rises over her pale swan neck to blush her cheeks. She¡¯s ready¡­ From behind, I lick at her with the falls; soft and suede-like, the best kind. Supple and stic, the leather kisses skin and bites at muscle. She mewls, but it¡¯s not in distress. I know her better than that. At the same moment, her pelvis twitches¡­ How does that feel to you, Green-Eyes? Is it a kind of pration¡­? ¡­ Of the mind¡­ I don¡¯t want to ramp her up too quickly. I started her hard deliberately, to jolt her. But now I want to warm her up, heating the flesh slowly before I take her to the precipice. A flick of my wrist and the tails caress her thigh again; enough to register as pain, but not enough to shock. The p of leather on muscle echoes around the stone walls, the vaulted ceiling. Briefly, I rub at the muscle then repeat on the other leg before looping an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to nuzzle into her neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. And with her spine pressed against my chest, her elerating heartbeat pumps through her ribs and mine. I can scent her; her rising aroma. And the tremble, the quivering, rising through her flesh, quivers through mine also... And now, the tremble is for the right reasons¡­ No fear¡­ No regrets¡­ Releasing her, standing back, Ish again, a little harder this time, at her upper arms and shoulders. Taut, straining against her restraint, she jerks. Her answering cry is louder and I stroke the falls over on the skin, tracing the red mark rising there. Two strokes, three strokes, then I strike once more, lower down. Again, she cries out and I move to her beautiful ass, striking now with force, first at the left side, then the right. She wails, shuddering, and I nod Michael to her. He moves quickly, taking my ce, rubbing at the welts on her skin, murmuring something soft as I stand back. Enjoying the bnce of the flogger in my hand, the patterned roughness of the ited banding of the handle, the slight bees-wax scent of the leather, I measure her by eye, gauging her; her reaction, where she is on the ascent. Her trembling is violent now; a shiver that runs the length of her body, travelling from the knotted muscles of her arms and down to quaking calves. Under drooping eyelids, her pupils are huge and ck, and the fluttering of muscle and skin oveys the sharp rise and fall of her chest. Her hair, spilling loose to her waist and beyond, vibrates at the tips, pacing the vibration in her flesh. Eye-pointing Michael back to his vantage point, I trail the falls over her breasts; only the tips, the softest of touches. Then quickly, sharply, I snap across a thigh. She yelps, jerks and her aroma wells, lush, piquant and with the promise of the Rush toe. Gotcha¡­ I follow up on the other thigh, first on the outer, more resistant muscle then between her spread legs, on the more delicate, more sensitive skin of the inner thigh. Aiming low, I strike her just above the knee, then on the other side, a little higher. And again, working up and in, delivering the promise of¡­ With a twist of my hand, suede-soft leather kisses her pussy. Not hard, but she¡¯s not yet been touched there. Her perfume says she¡¯s open, ready, and her reply to the stroke is a squeeze-eyed mewling that sets heat flooding my groin and electricity dancing to my cock. Again, I strike, the same spot, harder now. And again. She¡¯s blowing for air; screaming, howling, head flinging back. Her pelvis judders and the lush sweetness of her arousal billows up and around. Measured and aimed; I aim for her clit, intending to make her scream. As the fallssh at her most sensitive spot, she shrieks¡­. And again¡­ And again¡­ ¡­ ¡­ And she falls silent¡­ Eyes zing, she stills. The only movement is the heave of her chest. ¡­ Dropping the flogger, I step in close, tugging her to me by the waist. A hand between her thighs, I slide fingers between liquid folds and in. She totters; her weight dropping against me. An arm locked around her. supporting her, I finger-fuck her with the other hand, hard and fast. Moaning, she writhes against me. Behind her, Michael inclines his head. I nod and he reaches, releasing her wrists. She falls, but both of us catch her. As Michael carries her to the bed, I strip off my pants. Then spreading her thighs, I cover her with my body, and I take her. ¡­ Make her mine¡­ ¡­ Make her know that she is mine¡­ mming into her, I drive myself home, rewarded as I ram against her inner walls by her cry and the bite of her nails into my shoulders. Head flung back, she digs deep, dragging a groan from my throat, perhaps drawing blood. You¡¯re alive¡­ Remember that¡­ Peripherally, I see Michael watching, a smile dancing at the corners of his eyes¡­ ¡­ and his¡­ Hilted ball-deep inside her, my arms locked around her, I roll, taking her with me, presenting her rear to Michael, already stripping his clothes. I¡¯m not sure if she can hear me, where my Jade-Eyes is flying, but close by her face, I speak to her. ¡°You belong to both of us, and both of us are taking you now.¡± Her body is heat, her skin scorching against mine. Behind her, Michael positions himself, his arm and shoulder working as he lubes himself and her; opening her, readying her. She mewls and cries, but inside, her flesh clutches at mine. I tighten my hold on her further. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Shhh¡­ We¡¯re both here. We both have you.¡± Michael presses in behind, his cheek close by hers as his hips wind and twist. She falls silent again. ¡°Charlotte, am I hurting you?¡± Inhaling, she swings her head, slowly and without any sound other than the whisper of her breathing. He settles, kissing her ear from behind and his eyes rise to mine. And now, together we move, her body rocking between us, prated to fore and rear in this most intimate of unions. The Three of us, our Triad, together; heart, soul and body bound in the act of love. I thrust, moving inside her, easily and slowly, Michael matching me, following my rhythm. She whimpers and I increase the pace, pumping into her melted core. After so many days of seeing her in grief and fear, my body responds to her need and my own. Rock-hard, I fill her, giving myself to her, watching her face as move by move, thrust by thrust, she ascends. Michael, his body heaving in time with mine, curves his face around, watching her side-long. She barely moves now save for the rocking of her body between ours. Her breathes in quick, short judders. Her heartbeat is audible. Inside, her flesh pulses to a rising cadence¡­ She screams¡­ The scream is silent¡­ A long exhtion as her body jumps and jerks. Inside she pulses, squeezing and rxing, clenching and releasing in a measured tempo that is sweet and seductive and utterly irresistible¡­ And as she falls over the edge, I fall with her. Somewhere in the distance, I hear Michael¡¯s grunt, feel the knock as his head tips forward. T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. Lost in the plunge with my Jade-Eyes, all I can do is hold on as climax takes me for its own. Somewhere, locked inside my arms, she rides the wave. And buried inside her, I ride too, my body spasming into hers as she convulses against mine. I spurt and spill in a white-hot climax that sears through brain and body, stabbing through groin and thigh and belly. Pressed hard inside, my hips jammed hard against hers I shoot, then again¡­ and again¡­ ¡­ before orgasm releases me and, light still sshing behind my eyes, snatching for air, I slump and rx. Remembering myself, I ease back to see Charlotte, her eyes still opaque, now easing to calm. Carefully, I withdraw my softening cock and, my arms still around my descending sub, kiss her cheek. Michael flops back, squeezes his eyes closed then open them wide again, fingers pressed to his temples. ¡°Christ! I thought the idea was to take her over the edge.¡± Backing away, hips shifting, heys a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Charlotte?¡± Her eyes are still zed, and he slides a hand over her heart. ¡°Stilling down. I think we just settle here for the night, eh?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think I could raise the energy to get back up the stairs.¡± She stirs and her eyes focus, fixing on me. ¡°Master?¡± ¡°Charlotte.¡± I palm her cheek. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Her lips curve. ¡°I¡¯m good, Master. I¡¯m good.¡± ***** Chapter 29 Chapter 29 Twenty-Six Years Ago A cop in blue uniform enters the bar. ¡°Would you be Angelo?¡± The barman pauses in swiping a towel through a ss, brow wrinkling. ¡°That¡¯s me, yes. Something I can do for you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for a woman who frequents here. Goes by the name of Mitch.¡± The brow uncreases, his expression ttening. ¡°Mitch? Barely seen her thest few weeks.¡± ¡°When did youst see her?¡± Angelo pays strict attention to his polishing. ¡°Couldn¡¯t say.¡± His cloth works tight circles over the ss. Taking off his sunsses, the cop props elbows on the bar. ¡°We know that she hangs out here, soliciting.¡± The circles slow. ¡°She never did any soliciting that I saw. I mean, she knew how to pull a guy, but that¡¯s different altogether isn¡¯t it? Nothing illegal there.¡± The barman bends to his work again, concentrating on some ingrained speck on perfectly polished ss. The cop drums fingers on the bar-top, saying nothing; the kind of silence that sucks out the words. After a minute, the drumming morphs to a single fingernail tap-tapping¡­ Angelo ces the ss on a high shelf; reaches for another. ¡°Look¡­ however Mitch earned her living before, I think she¡¯s off it. I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s met a guy that¡­ Well, I think they¡¯re an item. Y¡¯know what I mean?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not here about her soliciting. We¡¯ve had word that she¡¯s pushing.¡± The ss drops, smashing as it hits hard tiles. Angelo curses, flushes, then stoops under the bar to reappear with brush and dustpan. As he sweeps up splinters, ¡°Mitch? A pusher? Nah¡­ She has no time for drugs. She stays clean herself and she wouldn¡¯t touch anyone else who went near them either.¡± Lazy-eyed, the cop drawls, ¡°That¡¯s not what we¡¯re being told.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being told wrong. You¡¯ve got the wrong woman.¡± ¡°In that case, she has nothing to worry about, has she? Where do we find her?¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t say.¡± The cop leans forward, lowering his voice. ¡°Tell me, does the hotel management know about your little arrangement with her? Using their premises?¡± Crouched down by the floor, Angelo stiffens. ¡°How does it work? You cover for her, give her a safe environment, point her to empty rooms, and she gives you a cut¡­? Am I on the right track here?¡± The barman says nothing, straightening up to tip broken ss into the trash. ¡°I thought so. I¡¯m guessing your bosses wouldn¡¯t be too happy if they knew about your little sideline on their premises eh?¡± The cop leans in further. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not interested in you. It¡¯s her we¡¯re looking for. All I want is her address. After that, my interest in you is exhausted. You understand me?¡± Angelo¡¯s face sets then falls. Blinking, he snags a notepad from under the counter, scrawling a couple of lines, then pushes it at the cop. ¡°Phone number too.¡± Angelo scribbles another line¡­ ¡°And her full name.¡± ¡­ and then another. ¡°That will do nicely.¡± The cop scans the note; points with a yellowed fingernail. ¡°Is that an eight or a three?¡± ¡°A three.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± The cop touches his cap... ¡°Have a good day.¡± ¡­ and leaves. Angelo stares after him, then down at the bar. After a moment he reaches for a bottle, pours a stiff measure and knocks it back. Pushing? Mitch? He heads for the phone, dials, waits¡­ ¡­ then curses as it clicks to ansaphone¡­ His voice low, ¡°Mitch, it¡¯s Angelo. If you¡¯re listening, pick up the phone¡­ Mitch are you there? Pick up the phone. It¡¯s urgent¡­¡± Crickets¡­ He curses under his breath then, ¡°Mitch, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, but the police are looking for you. They say you¡¯re dealing in drugs¡­. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I had to give them your address.¡± He hangs up the receiver, then resting his forehead against the wall, closes his eyes. ***** Twenty-Six Years Ago In her apartment¡­ ¡­ Her old apartment¡­ ¡­ Her own apartment¡­ ¡­ Mitch paces endlessly. Returning to the new apartment, the one he says is hers, is not to be considered. Is that how he traps them? Tempts them in? ? Why bother? Surely there¡¯re easier ways? Pain stabs through her temples. The girls¡­ Chained¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. Crying¡­ Trapped¡­ Her stomach tumbles. Vomit threatens to rise. The police? Would they believe her? ? ? He¡¯s important¡­ Powerful¡­ He must have connections¡­ Someone must know¡­. Who? She wants to tremble, to quake; to surrender to the panic that threatens to engulf her. No! The cloud of pain behind her eyes swells. Nausea rises again. Take a couple of paracetamols? No¡­ Sticking ster over the wound¡­ She goes to the kitchen, makes peppermint tea. Back in the lounge, cradling the mug in her hands, she sips at the tea. It doesn¡¯t help. Would wine be better? And a hot bath¡­ Clear her head, then decide what to do. How to get them out¡­ In her small bathroom, she sets hot water running, pours in oil, choosing her favourites to rx with; lavender-scented steam billows. While the water runs, she turns on some music. Soft enough to settle her. Loud enough to block out the world. Back in the kitchen, she hovers between two bottles: Red or white? White¡­ ss in hand, she retreats to her warm refuge, closes the door to keep in the heat and the scent. Sinking into warm foam, holding her wine, she closes her eyes, lets the music drift over her. In the lounge, her phone rings¡­ ***** The bath helps. The wine helps. Mitch is still jittery, uncertain; but the panic that threatened to overwhelm her is under control again. Who can she talk to? Who would believe her? Her gaze sliding sidelong to her desk, she eyes the under-cupboard. The key turns smoothly, and she extracts a card-file, heavy and well-used. Who does she know? Who is more than just a client? And who has enough influence that people have to pay attention? She stands, pours herself another small ss of the wine, then opens the file, flicking through a card at a time. ountant¡­ Businessman¡­ Priest¡­ Government official - low down the hierarchy¡­ She pauses at one¡­ Lawyer¡­ Then swings her head¡­ ¡­ Small time¡­ Family practice¡­ ¡­ and reces it. Another¡­ Circuit judge¡­ Jay¡­ Nice. Likes her. He¡¯ll believe her¡­ No phone number¡­ Expelling air, she slots the card back. The next card she takes, she stares at, considering¡­ The Police Commissioner¡­ Klempner must know someone¡­ Someone who keeps it hushed¡­ Could it be? Too risky¡­ Blinking, she reces the card. Ahhh¡­ Max. Just the man. She copies down the phone number then reces the card in its ce in the file; reces the file in its spot under the desk¡­ There¡¯s a bang on the door; loud, more than a knock; the thump of a fist. ¡°Police! Open up!¡± She shrieks, jerking back, wine spilling over couch and carpet. The banginges again; the hammering of knuckles on timber. ¡°Open up! Michelle Kimberley. We know you¡¯re in there.¡± Shrinking back against the wall, the farthest corner of the room... Is it really the police? The banging continues. ¡°Open up or we¡¯ll break the door down.¡± Shaking, she huddles further into the corner. Within seconds, the hammer of knuckles turns to the crash of boots. With the wrenching of tortured metal and splintered wood, the door caves in on the end of the foot of a man in blue uniform. He steps inside, strides towards her, followed by others. ¡°Michelle Kimberley. You are under arrest on suspicion of the possession and distribution of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent¡­¡± She screams and cries, protesting innocence as her wrists are cuffed. No-one listens to her protests as she is dragged from her home. In the corridor, faces watch from doorways; the dead eyes of the curious following the two officers restraining her, manhandling her away and out. No-one speaks up. Hey¡­ That¡¯s Mitch. Known her for years¡­. No-one tries to help. In the hall to the stairwell, another officer stands looking out of the window, his back turned as the weeping Mitch is taken. The doors to the stairs swing closed behind them. The sound fades. He turns, nudging his cap back with his knuckles, then ambles to the apartment. There¡¯s no urgency now. One man remains, methodically going through drawers and cupboards. ¡°Hi, Corby. How¡¯re ya doin¡¯? Didn¡¯t know you were in on this? Thought it was just Drugs involved.¡± ¡°Hi Jack. Yeah, but it was one of mine put the word on her. And there could be an ovep with Vice. Mind if I take a look around?¡± ¡°Not at all. Help yourself. Looking for anything particr?¡± ¡°Not really. I¡¯ll know it if I see it. You know how it is¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, I know. Let me know if youe up with anything.¡± ¡°Course.¡± Bech moves casually around, watching under his brows where Jack rummages through cupboards and bookshelves. Jack¡¯s radio crackles. He straightens up. ¡°Can you hold the fort for five?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Bech watches him out then, moving briskly, goes through to the bedroom, pushing an envelope under the mattress, fat with contents. Then though to the kitchen; a brief inspection of drawers containing cutlery, wash rags, greaseproof and foil. He slips a collection of small stic packets, stapled and each containing a single tablet, between drying cloths. Then he rxes. Strolling through the apartment, his eyes graze surfaces, the bookshelves¡­ He pauses by the telephone, perched on a small cab, flips through a stack of directories and then checks the drawer underneath,bing through notepads, knick-knacks, and odd and ends. With a grunt of satisfaction, he finds a filofax, quickly riffling through the pages before slipping the book into his pocket. Then, straightening up, he scans the apartment again. The desk¡­ He opens the top drawer, fingering through postcards and pens, stapler and sticky-tape, paperclips and postage stamps. Nothing interesting¡­ He stoops, opens the cab below. Bingo! Quickly, he scoops up the index file and heads out. Jack is still speaking into his radio. Bech tucks the index close, twisting so it¡¯s out of sight; hails Jack with an arm. ¡°Had a call. Gotta go.¡± ¡°Sure. Catch youter. Beer?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ see you at Marco¡¯s.¡± Lips pressed in a tight smirk, Bech leaves. ***** Chapter 30 Chapter 30 In the privacy of his own apartment, Bech, beer in hand, he cracks off the cap against the edge of the table then, leaning back on the chair, swings his boots up onto the top. A swallow of the beer and then he riffles through the card index, brows rising at some of the names: Taking a card at random, he reads: Alex Bergerman ountant. Interested in stocks. Wife 2 kids boy + girl Likes corsets, big hair. Gets off on dirty talk A pencilled note at the bottom of the card: Ask him about the Levanti merger. Good investment? Flipping the card over, Bech checks the back: a list of a dozen or so dates about a month apart. Each partnered with a money amount. Payments to the whore? He sucks in his cheeks, then digging the filofax from his pocket, checks the most recent date. Then the previous one. He grins. He takes another random card, Daimon Crevier Banker. Unmarried. Nerd: model trains. Talker. Likes ttery and head With a smile that has nothing to do with humour, he puts the card back in its correct ce, then taking the frontmost card first, starts methodically to work through. asionally, he draws in a whistle as he reads a name¡­ ***** Some hourster, several more bottles have umted on the table top and have now been joined by a coffee pot. Several cards have been removed, paper-clipped to attached notes. Bech tugs at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. What to do with the information? The great and glorious of the City¡­ Journalists¡­ Judges¡­ Celebrities¡­ Doctors¡­ The Police Commissioner¡­ Quite a client base¡­ All those dates¡­ Payments made¡­ All that written evidence¡­ He picks up one of the cards, set apart from the others; re-reads it. Larry Klempner Businessman. Travels. Not local Likes threesomes, conversation. No apparent family Pencilled note - cross-ref Frank Conners Musing, he drums fingernails on the card. ¡®Likes conversation¡¯¡­ Not too much info there though¡­ At least he hasn¡¯tpletely lost his sense of discretion. And then another card: Frank Conners. Real estate. Finder for Larry Klempner Likes threesomes. Thinks he¡¯s funny. ***** Back at the station, Cappelli has the bitch in interview, a suit in the next chair. Bech watches from behind the mirrored ss. She doesn¡¯t look so good now: makeup streaked, hair a mess, face swollen and puffy. A good scare will shut her up for now¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. His gut grinds a warning. Who¡¯s going to miss one more whore? Would it be easier to get rid of her? Worry about Klempnerter? He shudders. Not that suicidal¡­ Cappelli sits back in his chair, tapping his teeth with the end of a pencil. ¡°It¡¯s all very well Mitch, trying to im you¡¯ve done nothing, but you admit to taking money for sexual favours? You¡¯re a prostitute?¡± She folds her arms, juts her chin¡­ Defiance¡­ Fake¡­ She¡¯s scared shitless¡­ ¡­ ¡°It''s not illegal. I''ve done nothing wrong¡± ¡°Selling cocaine is illegal. Giving free samples to kids is illegal. The report we have¡­¡± Cappelli flips open a file, stabs the pencil onto a sheet inside¡­ ¡°¡­ says you''ve been seen selling to minors at the school gate...¡± ¡°No!¡± ¡°¡­ Fuck the father while the kids are snorting behind the bike-shed. Is that the n?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t sell drugs.¡± ¡°So that stash we found was all for personal use, was it? Single tablets? Individual zip-bags. What about the money we found? That¡¯s a lot to keep at home.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not mine. I only keep a bit of cash in my purse. Someone nted it.¡± Cappelli nods. Yeah¡­ Right¡­ Bech watches and listens. Thewyer sits beside her, arms folded, face a nk as he listens, asionally interjecting if Cappelli gets too pushy. Who¡¯s the suit? Thewyer tries to cover it, poker-faced, but he¡¯s pissed about something¡­ Not happy about being here? The whore is denying everything of course. It doesn¡¯t matter. The evidence will do the job for him. He eyes thewyer again. They all look much the same of course: white shirt and three-piece, polished shoes. But the cut of the clothes, a couple of expensive-looking rings, diamond studded tie-pin¡­ He looks higher up the food-chain than the average. ¡°I¡¯d like a word with my client in private.¡± Cappelli tosses the pencil down with a rattle. ¡°Sure. Ten minutes?¡± ¡°That should be adequate.¡± ***** Chapter 31 Chapter 31 Bech pushes a vending machine cup at Cappelli. ¡°What¡¯s she saying?¡± Cappelli hooks a thumb into a pocket ¡°Never gets any fucking better does it? Denying everything of course. Says she¡¯s being framed.¡± Bech barks augh. ¡°Of course. Just another victim of a tragic miscarriage of justice.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t they all? Still, looks like thatwyer of hers is going to get her sprung. Bail¡¯s set high but the judge is allowing it. No previous. And it looks like they share a school tie.¡± Fuck! ¡°Who is he? He looked pretty high-ss to be the legal for a hooker.¡± ¡°Theo Aldred. Subs for Max Devlin. From Hofferman and Partners¡­¡± ¡°Hofferman¡¯s? The prosecutors on the Romani Family case?¡± ¡°Yup. Don¡¯t envy him that one. They¡¯ve got all the wits under protection and the judge andwyers have full surveince.¡± Cappelli sucks at the coffee, pulls a face. ¡°Stone-cold¡­ You¡¯re right though. You¡¯d not think he¡¯d turn up for the likes of that one would you?¡± He tilts the cup at Bech. ¡°I¡¯m going to the machine for another. Want one?¡± ¡°Thanks, but no. I¡¯m off in five.¡± ***** So, the bitch got herself sprung¡­ Back in his apartment, Bech paces, curses, bangs his fist on the wall. Then¡­ The blindingly fuckin¡¯ obvious¡­ He checks the card index, And sure enough¡­ Maximillian Devlin. Lawyer. Married twice. Son by previous. One daughter by current marriage - favourite topic of conversation. Likes rabbits and pink. Got a pony. Gymkhana. Head girl at Ponterbury. ***** Michael I wake, disoriented for a moment as I take in stone arches and vaulted ceilings, then brain-cells line up in good order and I remember where I am. Beside me lies Charlotte; eyes closed, breathing soft. Beyond her, where James slept, the covers are rumpled, sheets thrown back, but when I listen, there is a faint tter of movement from above. Propping myself on an elbow, I take a good look at my Sleeping Beauty. She¡¯s looking better than she has since we returned from thest visit to Klempner. Her father¡­ Christ¡­ Her face has lost that sallow hue, and her cheeks are brushed with the palest of pinks. Babe¡­ I stroke over the line of high cheekbones with a fingertip. Her lids flutter, then open¡­ ¡­ and I see Charlotte¡­ my Charlotte¡­there. Not the stranger who looked out at me for thest few days, but my beautiful wife; my copper-haired, emerald-eyed, wilful, frustrating, crazy, wonderful wife. And, reaching to touch me, she smiles. ¡°Hi.¡± Still stroking her face, ¡°How are you now?¡± Her eyes are soft and watery. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Really, I¡¯m fine now. I¡¯m sorry I¡­¡± I press a finger to her lips. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be sorry for. I don¡¯t think any of us would have reacted well to learning what you did.¡± Tracing a curved brow with the pad of my thumb. ¡°Sometimes life throws shit at us, knocks us down. There''s no sin in falling over. Only in not standing up again.¡± I rece my finger with my lips, kiss her softly. ¡°But it¡¯s good to have you back.¡± Swallowing, dropping her gaze, she bobs her head. ¡°And besides,¡± I continue, ¡°you have to be in a better state than that if you really want to get yourself pregnant.¡± Her eyes lift again, widening. ¡°Do you? That¡¯s still what you want? To give James his daughter back?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her voice is a whisper. ¡°Is that alright?¡± ¡°Yes. That¡¯s what I said when we talked about it. It¡¯s fine. Just so long as I know. I¡¯ll help however I can.¡± I lean in again, feathering my lips across hers. Her hand curves around the back of my head. ¡°Thank you.¡± She nuzzles into the crook of neck and shoulder. ¡°I missed you. It was lonely in that other bed.¡± ¡°I missed you too. We both did.¡± I pull away, holding her gaze. ¡°But I never went away. I never will go away¡­¡± She sighs. ¡°And yes, I¡¯ve been looking forward to being back in our own bed too. We¡¯ll sleep there tonight. All of us. Together.¡± This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. Her forehead creases. ¡°You mean you didn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t imagine James and I share a bed when you¡¯re not in it with us? He might be my good friend, but not that good¡­¡± From the doorwayes a chuckle. ¡°Sorry to disappoint you there.¡± James holds a tray. The scents of toast and coffeepete for attention. Charlotte¡¯s nostrils re and she sits bolt upright. ¡°God, I¡¯m starving. Did you bring plenty?¡± James grins. ¡°She¡¯s back.¡± ***** Twenty-Six Years Ago Mitch sits on the cold b. Eyes red-rimmed, hugging herself, she rocks on the seat. The door ngs open. ¡°You¡­¡± The officer says no more, simply thumbing out of the door. Out in the office thewyer, Theo, stands waiting. Dark-suited, briefcase in hand, he regards Mitch without expression. ¡°Miss Kimberley.¡± The duty officer jabs a finger at a sheet. ¡°Sign.¡± Her eyes rise. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Theo says, ¡°You¡¯ve been bailed, but you and I need a talk. On behalf of Mr Devlin.¡± ¡°Please, I need to talk with Max himself.¡± Curtly, ¡°Mr Devlin does not want to talk to you, Miss Kimberley. He is a very busy man. He epted your call and assigned me out to assist you. That is the extent of his involvement with you.¡± He sniffs. ¡°I¡¯ll not presume to guess why he did that much.¡± He turns, picks up his briefcase. ¡°Mr Aldred, please, just call him. I have to speak to him. Please¡­¡± ¡°Is it to do with this case?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ No¡­ Yes¡­ It¡¯s not what it looks like. I don¡¯t take drugs. Truly, I don¡¯t. I never have. And I certainly don¡¯t sell them. I¡¯m being framed.¡± He cocks a brow. ¡°It¡¯s a bit weak isn¡¯t it? Why would the police frame amon prostitute?¡± Her head hangs. ¡°I need to tell him about something¡­ It¡¯s not just me. There¡¯s¡­ there¡¯s lives at stake. Young women.¡± She breathes the words. ¡°I think they¡¯re being trafficked.¡± He lowers his lids, considering her. ¡°And why didn¡¯t you say this before? You had the opportunity.¡± ¡°Not in the police station. Somewhere private.¡± He hesitates. ¡°Please. Just ask Max to give me half an hour. Twenty minutes. Please.¡± Something in her tone prates. ¡°Twenty minutes then. It had better be good. If I do this and you¡¯re lying, I¡¯ll be dog meat.¡± ¡°And somewhere we won¡¯t be overheard.¡± He nods; a short gesture. ¡°Let me make a phone call.¡± ***** Chapter 32 Chapter 32 An hourter, he apanies her to the offices of Hofferman and Partners. At the main door, uniformed guards stand. Theo disys ID, offers his briefcase for search to one guard. The other points to Mitch¡¯s bag. ¡°That too please, miss.¡± Then he waves across a woman in dark blue uniform. ¡°Arms and legs apart, please.¡± Mitch stands as hands frisk up and down, patting at arms, legs, hips and torso. Theo gets the same treatment from a male guard. ¡°Is it always like this?¡± she asks as her bag is returned. ¡°Romani case. High security.¡± In the reception, secretary nods Theo through to an office, then with a chill nce at Mitch, points her to a seat. ¡°Wait there, please.¡± After only five minutes, the phone buzzes. The secretary answers then, ¡°Go through please, Miss Kimberley. Mr Devlin is waiting for you.¡± The office is huge, plush and darkly traditional. Theo sits to one side, ankle cocked onto a knee, poised with notebook and pen. Max Devlin, whom she normally meets in less formal circumstances, sits behind an acre of green- leathered desk, face propped on thumb and forefinger. He doesn¡¯t look friendly. ¡°Miss Kimberley. I have agreed to see you because what you have said to Mr Aldred here suggests a link to organised crime. That is the only reason. You have ten minutes of my time.¡± She sucks inside her cheeks, trying to raise saliva. ¡°Max¡­ Mr Devlin¡­ You see¡­ I met a man; a client¡­ Lawrence Klempner¡­ ***** Devlin rxes back into the studded leather of his seat. ¡°On your honour, Mitch, is all this true? If I take you at your word on this and follow it up to find you¡¯re lying to me, I¡¯ll throw you to the dogs.¡± Considerably more than the ten minutes has passed. The secretary has served coffee which Mitch drinks as her porcin cup rattles against its saucer. Theo puts down his pen, stretching aching fingers open and closed. ¡°Max, I promise you, it¡¯s true. All of it.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you report it immediately?¡± ¡°I didn''t know what to do, who to talk to. I didn''t want to go to the police because...¡± She curls in on herself, turns small...¡± He picks at a hangnail. ¡°Because the police are usually unsympathetic towards prostitutes.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She cringes inside. ¡°I thought too, that to have gotten it so far; to have something like Blessingmoors running¡­ sorge, so prominent, Larry must know someone. Maybe someone important¡­¡± Max nods slowly¡­ ¡°I was trying to decide what to do when the police arrived. I¡¯d already thought I might call you. Ask your advice¡­¡± Her voice splinters. ¡°Max, I was so frightened. I still am. They just kicked my door in and¡­¡± Her fragile veneer cracks and the tearse. The shakese. Face dropping, she shudders terror and grief and helplessness into her hands. Awkwardly, the two men watch her. After a minute, Max scratches at the bridge of his nose, then sighs, thumbing towards the door. ¡°Theo, go find something else to do for ten minutes.¡± As the door closes again, Max moves from behind his desk, perches a hip by Mitch and takes her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. ¡°Mitch, I¡¯ll help. The first thing I¡¯ll do is see what I can learn about your Lawrence Klempner. Do you have a photo of him?¡± Her head swings. ¡°No. He was a client¡­¡± ¡°And the clients of courtesans don¡¯t like photos¡­¡± His brow cocks, mouth quirking¡­ ¡°Or if they do, I¡¯m guessing they pay extra?¡± She raises the ghost of a smile. He continues, ¡°It¡¯s not a problem. There was a lot of publicity around opening Blessingmoors. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll track something down I can follow. Meanwhile¡­¡± His fingers tighten around hers. ¡°Meanwhile, we¡¯re going to get you out of sight. Book you into a hotel. I¡¯ll get you taxi¡¯d there, then you keep your door locked. Don''t let anyone in unless you are very sure of who they are. I''ll make some checks and see what I can learn.¡± ***** Michael Book-keeping and ounts¡­ I bloody hate the job. I have someone in for a few hours a week to do the day-to-day work; booking in receipts, sending out invoices and quotes, all that stuff. But once a month, like it or not, I go over the figures. It¡¯s the only way to be sure I have my finger on the pulse. And now having both the spa hotel and the City centre, there¡¯s twice the work. *sigh* The ounts software does most of the heavy lifting of course, but I still prefer to do some parts of it manually, ensuring the numbers pass through my brain, not just my eyes. So, I check the ratios: overheads cost per client, number of staff per client, mark-up on purchases versus sales in the restaurant¡­ Feet up on the settee by the fire,ptop propped on my knees, I work through it all. And, if I¡¯m honest, there¡¯s worse ways to work. Warmth. Comfort. My own home. My own boss¡­ I take a sip of the excellent malt which sits on the small table by my side. Calctor¡­ ¡°Calctor. Calctor¡­¡± I sit up, spin, repeating the word as though it¡¯s some feat of magic that will conjure up the object if I say it often enough. Damn! Must have left back at the office¡­ James¡¯ll have one¡­ I pad through to James¡¯ study; a quick scan of the visible¡­ No calctor. T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org. Desk¡­ Top drawer¡­ I scratch through stapler, note pads, hole punch, pins, memory keys, assortedputer cables and connectors, a couple of old floppy discs that can¡¯t be useful these days for much more than cup mats¡­ Gotcha¡­ The calctor is jammed at the back of the drawer between a scrum of sticky notes, erasers and pencil stubs, and something ttish trapped underneath. Prising the whole mess backwards, I free the calctor and am about to m the drawer shut on my pilfering¡­ ¡­ when I see what the ttish object is. James had a photo of Georgie; old, poor quality and blown-up beyond any sensible quality, but that photo followed him, in his wallet and on his desk for years; all the time I have known him And now, here it is, face-down, tucked away and out of sight. He''s buried his daughter. Crap¡­ ***** Chapter 33 Chapter 33 Twenty-Six Years Ago The club is dark and sleazy, like most of its customers; perhaps denizens would be a better description. upied by the lost and those wishing to be so, the unwanted and the unwantable, it caters to those not wanting to be noticed by the passing world, or those the passing world will perhaps see, but then look away from. The bouncer looks askance at the blue uniform, moving from his spot in front of a luridly-coloured poster of young women of unlikely proportions and appeal. He stands to block the entrance, then jolts back as he recognizes the face at the top. ¡°Sorry, Corby. Didn¡¯t realise it was you for a minute there.¡± ¡°¡¯S fine Pat. Just let me through.¡± ¡°You expected?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°Should I send ahead?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Inside, Corby grimaces at the mix of sweat, smoke and stale air. Sweeping a view through a blue haze over the hunched shoulders of solo drinkers, past the gawpers ogling the stripper under the spotlight, he settles on the shadowed nooks at the far end of the bar. A figure half hidden in the gloom raises a ss towards him. Bech pushes back his cap then strolls across, taking a seat at the table. He ignores the startled nces of those he passes. In any case, as they see who he is sitting with, they look away again. ¡°Drink?¡± Enrico Romani raises a finger to the barman who heads smartly across the floor. The cop lounges in the seat, carefully not touching the scummy-looking table top. ¡°Thanks, no. Business, not pleasure.¡± Romani awards him a cool look, waving the hovering barman away again. ¡°I took that as read¡­ So, what can I do for you, Corby? You¡¯ve got the wrong brother for your line of work. Guido handles the women. I¡¯m on the enforcement end of the business. You know that.¡± ¡°Yes, I know that. But that¡¯s not why I asked you here. In fact, I have something for you. A little gift that I think your father will appreciate.¡± Enrico cocks a brow, the expression twisted by a scar acquired no doubt during one of his enforcement activities. ¡°Oh? And what would that be?¡± Bech swipes a palm across his chin. ¡°How¡¯s it going at court? Is the prosecutor¡­. Max Devlin is it? ¡­. making life difficult for your father?¡± Eyes narrowing, ¡°And why would you ask?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure¡­¡± Bech continues¡­ ¡°¡­ that you have been trying to ess Mr Devlin¡­ during the court proceedings.¡± Romani stirs in his seat. ¡°Abso-fuckin¡¯-lutely¡­ No good though. He¡¯s locked down tight. Twenty-four- seven protection, mirrors under vehicles, whole fuckin¡¯ courtesy-guard on the way to court¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure, yes,¡± says Bech, smoothly. ¡°So, you would appreciate some leverage? To get him away from all that¡­ Something to tempt him out to y.¡± He pushes a slip of paper across the table. Romani nces down, slides it up and open, then reads¡­ ¡°An address? A school? What¡¯s this then?¡± ¡°That is the school attended by the only daughter of Chief Prosecutor, Max Devlin. The father might be under tight security, but a school of little girls in pink frills won¡¯t be.¡± A broad grin dawns across Romani¡¯s face, stretching the scar. It¡¯s not a pretty sight¡­ Then the grin fades. He sniffs, swipes a finger across his nose. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t appreciate this, but what¡¯s in it for you? What does Officer Corby get out of this?¡± Bech sits back, drumming fingers on the table top. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that the Romani family owes me one. No doubt I¡¯ll be able to call on your gratitude at some point.¡± ¡°Gratitude, fuck. What¡¯s Max Devlin done to upset you?¡± ¡°He¡¯s poking his nose where it doesn¡¯t belong. Let¡¯s leave it at that shall we.¡± Enrico stares him down. ¡°So, you want my family to do your dirty work?¡± ¡°If you like, but I don¡¯t hear you objecting.¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± He stands, offers his hand. ¡°Thanks, Corby. I¡¯ll make sure Pop hears about this.¡± ¡°I appreciate that.¡± Bech watches as Romani leaves, his smile smug. One less problem to handle¡­ ***** Charlotte My Master stands before the mirror, knotting his tie. His reflected eyes pass to me. ¡°I¡¯m going on-site this morning, Charlotte. You want toe?¡± He turns, touches my cheek. ¡°A bit of normality again perhaps?¡± ¡°I¡¯d love to. What¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be down by the area of the new bridge¡­¡± ¡°Your bridge¡­¡± He smiles. ¡°As you say, my bridge¡­¡± ¡°So, what¡¯s happening?¡± This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°It¡¯s about a year since the bridge opened so we have real ess to the site, but with¡­¡± He hesitates, his dark eyes hovering over me¡­ ¡°with what was learned about the Blessingmoors site after your¡­ revtions¡­ the work in that area of the site ground to a halt while the police finished their investigations. That¡¯s done now and so the demolition process will bepleted¡­¡± ¡°Completed? But I thought all that¡­¡± ¡°The cers were re-opened, remember? When you first gave your information to the police. Now everyone agrees that the best thing is for the whole site to be covered¡­¡± My chest tightens¡­ Breathe¡­ My Master inclines his head, watching me in silence. Forcing out the words. ¡°You never told me,¡± I say. Heys the tip of a forefinger on my lips. ¡°And your reaction just now is the reason why. I didn¡¯t want to say anything until we were ready to bury the site, the Past and everything that goes with it.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going there instead?¡± I pause, running schematics and blueprints through my head¡­ ¡°There¡¯s nothing on any of the drawings but a nked-out area.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I didn¡¯t let you see that part of the ns. And¡­¡± He taps a knuckle on the bridge of my nose¡­ ¡°I asked Richard not to let you see anything of it either.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re letting me see it now? ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why now?¡± ¡°Because we¡¯re ready to go and I want your contributions for the design.¡± ¡°Mine? Master, what¡¯s going over the site?¡± ¡°A park. And you¡¯re going to help me put it together.¡± ***** Chapter 34 Chapter 34 Taking us over the river, across his beautiful bridge, my Master hums as he drives. ¡°You sound happy.¡± Dark eyes sh side-long to me. ¡°Counting my blessings. I have so many of them. It¡¯s easy to forget it sometimes but being here reminds me.¡± ¡°Here?¡± Confused, I look right and left: the river, the City, people milling, traffic flowing¡­ ¡°Why here?¡± ¡°This bridge,¡± he says, then thumps at the horn as some idiot in a roadster swerves and cuts in front. ¡°Moron,¡± he mutters, then, ¡°Yes, this bridge.¡± Lights turn to red and we ease to a halt. ¡°Master, I¡¯m not following you.¡± ¡°This bridge was the start of everything I have now. Winning the contract for the design work brought me wealth, the friendship with Richard, the directorship...¡± Heys a hand on my thigh, squeezes, then jolts back to the steering wheel as traffic lights switch to green. ¡°But most of all, it brought me the money to bid in your auction. It brought me you.¡± ¡°I¡¯d not thought of it like that.¡± He stares directly ahead. ¡°I think of it every time Ie here.¡± Winter is still here, but with the promise of early Spring. The wind bites, but the sunshine is bright. I feel good. ¡°So, all your skies are blue, Master?¡± That sideways look again, his eyes crinkling. ¡°Very blue.¡± Then his smile fades and he looks away. ***** We park up. Some distance away, there is movement in an area I know only too well. A man in a hi-vis jacket and hard hat moves with purpose, setting up a theodolite; one of the modern ¡®total stations¡¯ with EDM and GPS. However the new park isid out, the exact position of Blessingmoors will never be lost. Even if it were under a retailplex or a sports centre or a car park, it could be found again¡­ ¡­ if needed¡­ ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°They¡¯re about to move in with the earthmovers again and finish the demolition process.¡± He scans the area, settling on the portable site office squatting on its trailer amid mud, stacks of ck piping, spools of blue piping, pallets and paraphernalia. ¡°I need a word with Sam. I¡¯ll not be long.¡± He hands me a file, then waves out over the sea of rocky debris and once-were-roads. ¡°Outline ns for the park. You can entertain yourself lining it up with the reality. I¡¯lle find you.¡± He moves off in search of the site foreman. In the distance, the Haswell offices tower, surrounding by buildings already up or under construction; warehouses, the retailplex, the residential area which edges the slope down to the river. But close by, bulldozers are moving, shifting piles of earth and rubble. And despite my Master¡¯s instruction, with the file hanging limply in my hand I find myself wandering¡­ ¡­ drawn¡­ ¡­ towards my childhood ¡®home¡¯. All that remains is the outline of now-defunct roads and a gash in the ground; the old cers. When I was a child, they were vast ck pits; ces of terror, punishment and dread of what might come next¡­ Unholy ground¡­ Now as I watch the earthmover at its work, I can see the work won¡¯t take long. I stand there, mesmerised, simply watching as with a crash, a ton of broken brick and stone tumbles down. Despite the damp, clouds of dust billow up. Coughing, I slide my sleeve over a hand, covering my nose and mouth. It¡¯s notfortable, but I want to see this. ¡°Hello, Jenny.¡± I whirl. A figure stands behind me. ¡°It is you, isn¡¯t it, Jenny?¡± The clothes are thin and worn, cheap to begin with. The skin of his hands is red and rough, the fingers pinched white with cold, the skin splitting around the nails. A stick-thin figure and narrow face speak of in-ground poverty. But it¡¯s a face I know of old. ¡°Hello, Benny. Yes, it¡¯s me.¡± He shifts from one foot to the other then, ¡°I thought I saw you here once before, but you didn''t want to talk.¡± Guilt grinds inside me. Heat rises up my neck. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Yes, that was me too, but¡­. I was in a bad ce just then. I¡¯m sorry I wouldn¡¯t talk to you.¡± But he smiles. ¡°That¡¯s okay. If you were here¡­¡± He gestures vaguely over the outline shadow of where the prison we both once upied used to stand¡­ ¡°I suppose you wouldn¡¯t have been feeling so good.¡± He pokes at the ground with a toe. ¡°I saw them starting¡­¡± He looks to where the bulldozer shoves and another great scoop of smashed rock and earth topples down. ¡°¡­ so, I came to watch. You too?¡± ¡°Yes, me too.¡± By the bridge, I see my Master, together with Sam, but it seems his conversation is done. His head swings, taking in thendscape¡­ Looking for me? He was here that day too¡­ The day it all really started¡­ The day I confessed¡­ ¡­ to a murder I¡¯d notmitted¡­. He sights me, then heads my way, taking great long-legged distance-eating strides. His movements urgent, the slight limp barely shows. The earthmover beeps as it backs up, scraping up another load. Benny and I watch. ¡°So, how are you, Benny? How¡¯s your life been going?¡± He exhales. ¡°I escaped that night of the break-in, with all the others¡­ You know about that? That man who let us out?¡± ¡°Yes, I know about it. I know him.¡± ¡°You know him? Who he was?¡± ¡°Yes, he¡¯s¡­ a friend of mine.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± He smiles, disying yellowed teeth; some missing, one ckened. ¡°Well, say thank you to him from me.¡± Hepses into silence and I scratch around for something to say, something appropriate. What¡¯s appropriate? Here? Now? With a whine of hydraulics, another load falls. They buried the murdered here¡­ Now they bury the burial ground¡­ This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. ¡°So, what are you doing now?¡± I ask. ¡°Oh, not much. I get by I suppose¡­¡± Trying now to be obvious about it, I look at him. He tugs the threadbare jacket about himself, shivering as the breeze nips at nose and ears. And here I am in my fine warm clothes, as much to eat as I want. My husband. My wonderful Master¡­ ¡­ who reaches us, his eyes scanning Benny. ¡°Everything alright?¡± ¡°Yes, everything¡¯s fine, Mas¡­ James. This is an old friend of mine, Benny.¡± My Master¡¯s head tilts. ¡°Really?¡± He offers his hand. ¡°James Alexanders.¡± He looks Benny over again. ¡°Haven¡¯t we met before?¡± Benny looks at the offered hand, takes it tentatively. ¡°Yes, you were here with Jenny that day, weren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes, I was.¡± His gaze travels the boy I once knew, and I can see wheels turning behind the gaze. ¡°Benny,¡± he says, ¡°we were about to have some lunch¡­¡± We were? ¡°¡­ Would you like to join us?¡± The boy¡¯s gaunt features distort. ¡°I¡¯m not really dressed¡­¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s alright.¡± He smiles broadly, my Master at his most charming. ¡°It¡¯s only the site canteen. Everyone¡¯s in work-clothes. Overalls covered in mud and muck. Do join us. I¡¯d like to meet Charlotte¡¯s old friends.¡± He turns, gesturing to the portable canteen across the site. Benny blinks, looks to me. ¡°Charlotte?¡± ¡°I changed my name.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t me you,¡± he mutters, following my Master¡¯s lead. ***** Chapter 35 Chapter 35 The food in the canteen isn¡¯t haut cuisine, being served for a clientele who go for quantity over quality. But it¡¯s hot and there¡¯s plenty of it, and Benny hits his te as though he¡¯s not eaten for a week¡­ Perhaps he hasn¡¯t¡­ My Master has his smile firmly switched to On, but I see his eyes travelling Benny, measuring and gauging. He doesn¡¯t say much, simply ying with a bowl of soup while Benny engulfs a huge te of casserole, veg and mash, then wipes the te down with a roll. ¡°They do top-ups as part of the price.¡± My Master waves vaguely at the serving counter. ¡°Go get more if you want it.¡± Benny mumbles something and gripping his tray, heads for the serving counters. As soon as he is out of earshot, my Master turns to me. ¡°So, how do you know him?¡± ¡°He was in Blessingmoors when I was. He¡­ was kind to me.¡± His brows rise. ¡°Kind to you?¡± He props an elbow on the table, his chin on a fist. ¡°Yes. At a time when there wasn¡¯t much kindness around, Benny tried.¡± Expressionless, ¡°What did he do?¡± The stew I just ate sours as I seek memories I usually suppress. ¡°There was a day¡­ There weren¡¯t many books in Blessingmoors. I think they only kept the ones they had to fool the authorities. But there was one. It was my favourite. ¡®The Thousand and One Nights¡¯. You know, the Arabian Nights¡­¡± The smallest of nods. ¡°One of the men there, one of the staff, ripped it up¡­¡± In a voice with no tone, ¡°Why did he do that?¡± ¡°No reason. Just for spite. But he tore it up in front of me then¡­¡± I bite down on my words, shrinking from the memory. ¡°Anyway, Benny tried to mend it. Put it back together again for me.¡± My Master says nothing, takes a spoonful of soup. Benny returns with another mountain of food. ¡°So, what do you do, Benny?¡± asks my Master. Benny chews at a potato chunk, struggles to swallow before he speaks. ¡°Do?¡± ¡°What do you do for a living? Charlotte here¡­ Jenny¡­ is training to be an engineer. What do you do?¡± Benny¡¯s eyes round up, his smile broad and bright as he looks at me. ¡°Engineer? Hey, that¡¯s great.¡± Then he looks down into his te. ¡°But she was always the smart one. I¡¯m not clever like her. I don¡¯t have a job right now.¡± My Master muses into his soup. ¡°Would you like to work? You want a job?¡± Gulping down, ¡°Oh, yes. I always get work if I can, but it neversts long.¡± Brow furrowing, ¡°Why¡¯s that? Short contract work?¡± Benny¡¯s face falls. He stares at his food, stirring it around. ¡°No. I always try to get something permanent. I work hard, and I¡¯m good with my hands, but sooner orter they always give me something I have to read; instructions or a diagram or something¡­¡± My Master sits up in his seat. ¡°You can¡¯t read?¡± Benny¡¯s thin face flushes. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not clever like Jenny.¡± Fingers drumming on the table, ¡°We have work going here on site if you want to try.¡± Benny jolts up. ¡°It would just be temporarybouring for now, but if we find out what you¡¯re good at, it could lead to more.¡± Benny¡¯s answers with a grin like a rising sun. ¡°That¡¯d be great. Sure. Whatever you¡¯ve got.¡± ¡°Good.¡± My Master offers his hand again. And again, Benny takes it a little hesitantly¡­. As though he¡¯s never done it before? ¡­ and shakes. ¡°¡­That¡¯s settled. Enjoy your meal and after lunch, I¡¯ll introduce you to the site manager, Sam Caghan.¡± He eyes Benny¡¯s te, just being cleaned of thest of its gravy, and jerks a thumb back at the counters. ¡°I believe dessert is apple pie today.¡± As Benny vanishes off on a quest for apple pie, I say, ¡°Thank you, Master.¡± He steeples fingers. ¡°What goes around,e around. He was kind to you, and for me, that means he gets a chance¡­¡± ***** Twenty-Six Years Ago Mitch sits by the window, staring out at the world. She tries to read but can¡¯t concentrate. She watches daytime TV; quiz and game shows, crap soaps and re-runs. Two minutester, she can¡¯t remember any of what she just watched. She has only the clothes she arrived wearing, so she settles in bed, trying to sleep. After twelve hours she can sleep no more and yet, gritty-eyed, feels as though she never rested at all. No-one calls. How long has it been? Have they forgotten her? At least here, she¡¯s safe. Passively, beyond thinking, she waits. Two dayster, the phone rings. She gazes dead-eyed at the ceiling for a moment before registering what the sound is. She reaches from the depths of the bed. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Mitch, it¡¯s Theo. Max is sending a taxi to bring you to our offices. Be at the front door in twenty minutes.¡± ***** The receptionist is much friendlier than the first time she visited the offices. ¡°Mr Devlin is expecting you, Miss Kimberley. Go straight in. Tea or coffee?¡± In the office, Max wears a neutral expression. He takes a sheaf of photos from an envelope, spreading them out on the table top; a dozen faces, seen from different angles and distances; not good quality, as though taken covertly or perhaps reproduced from newspaper cuttings. ¡°Your man Klempner, can you pick him out?¡± She scans the photos but barely hesitates as she points. ¡°That''s him.¡± ¡°You''re sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Max nods, pursing his lips, thenys another photograph on the table; a different shot of the same face. Old and blurred, in ck and white but yellowing at the corners, nheless the features are clear. ¡°Is this him?¡± His face is still a careful nk. She travels the face with a finger. ¡°He¡¯s younger there. His hair is darker than that now and he doesn¡¯t have the beard. ¡°But, yes, it¡¯s him.¡± She picks it up, peers close. ¡°Is that a soldier¡¯s uniform?¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Max speaks slowly. ¡°Mitch, I don''t want to scare you, but I have to say that you have be involved with a very dangerous individual. The man you know as Lawrence Klempner has known connections with a range of criminal organisations. In this photo here, he¡¯s in Ang, but there is information linking him to a variety of mercenary and terrorist groups.¡± She listens, frozen¡­ ¡°We¡¯re going to have to keep you out of sight while we gather the evidence¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ve nowhere to stay. I have to earn a living¡­¡± ¡°I can have someone sent to your address to collect clothes and other necessities, but you can¡¯t go back there.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t go back to my home? How long for?¡± ¡°Mitch, how do you think the police knew where to find you? I don¡¯t believe you ever took clients back to your apartment, did you?¡± Her voice is hushed. ¡°No.¡± Belonging to N?velDrama.Org. ¡°Did you ever take Klempner there? Does he know where you live?¡± Slowly she nods, fighting the pricking behind her eyes. ¡°Then I don¡¯t think you can go back there, Mitch.¡± He regards her, not unsympathetically. ¡°Listen, I have to work quietly on this. As you say, it¡¯s clear that Klempner¡¯s got someone behind the scenes, so I can¡¯t just go barging in. We have to tip-toe through this. Meanwhile, go back to the hotel. I¡¯ll call you in a day or so when we work out something more permanent for you. I should be able to get you on a witness protection scheme; somewhere else to live, a new identity if necessary.¡± She¡¯s trembling. Everything she¡¯s worked for¡­ Her home¡­ Her living¡­ Her freedom¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Butterflies¡­ Heys a hand on hers. ¡°Write me a list of what you would like us to collect from your apartment.¡± ***** In the hotel, her meagre belongings arrive; clothes, personal items; a few precious books salvaged from her collection. She settles into her armchair by the window and starts to read: Travels in West Africa, Mary Henrietta Kingsley. ***** Chapter 36 Chapter 36 A dayes and goes. Another day arrives. The phone doesn¡¯t ring. And another day. What¡¯s happening? She reaches for the phone, then snatches her hand back. They¡¯ll call when they¡¯re ready¡­ But they don¡¯t. The following morning, she watches the clock: eight am¡­ Eight-thirty¡­ Nine o¡¯clock¡­ Nine-fifteen¡­ She picks up the phone again, dials out. ¡°Hello, Hofferman and Partners? Is Mr Devlin there, please? It¡¯s Mitch Kimberley.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Miss Kimberley, Mr Devlin is not avable¡­.¡± The voice chokes, breaking into uncontrolled sobs. ¡°He¡¯s been murdered. Gunned down. His little girl is in hospital too.¡± Mitch, heart hammering, ¡°Theo. Let me talk to Theo Aldred.¡± The sound muffles¡­ A hand over the speaker? ¡­ then ¡°Mr Aldred is not avable.¡± The breath catches in her throat. ¡°When will he be free? I¡¯ll call back.¡± The muffling returns, but through it, indistinctly, Mitch hears, ¡°No, I¡¯ve a wife and children to consider¡­¡± Then the receptionist¡¯s voice repeats, ¡°Mr Aldred is not avable.¡± Mitch ms down the receiver. N?velDrama.Org content rights. Stepping backwards, hands sped to her mouth, she fights for air, then she dashes for the door. White-faced, she sprints to the elevator, bangs on the call button then walks frantic circles until it Bings and the doors slide open. Down in the lobby, she spins, looking for what is sure to be there¡­ A newspaper¡­ local¡­ The headline¡­ As she reads, she whimpers. Romani Case outrage¡­ Prominentwyer gunned down¡­ Chief prosecutor Max Devlin is reported as murdered by a gunman or gunmen as yet unidentified in an incident in the grounds of the school attended by his nine-year-old daughter. The daughter herself is also reported as injured but recovering in hospital. Spection is rife that the murder is connected with the trial of Marco Romani and his alleged connection with organised crime¡­ Hands shaking, Mitch folds up the paper, reces it on the counter. Full-blown panic swells inside her. Her stomach rises. Pushing a fist to her mouth, she sets off at a run for the nearest bathroom, just reaching a cubicle before she loses control. Retching and heaving over the bowl, she loses her breakfast. Trembling, she flushes, then gags and vomits again. At length, scarlet-faced and sweating, Mitch leans over a basin, sshes cold water over her face, rinses the foul taste from her mouth. She¡¯s on her own¡­ ***** James I poke my head around Richard¡¯s door. ¡°I¡¯m wrapping up for the day. Going for a drink with Michael and Charlotte. Want to join us?¡± He ps a file down on his desk. Whatever he was reading, it drops with a finality that suggests he¡¯s d of an excuse to see the back of it. ¡°Excellent idea. Mind if I bring Elizabeth along? She¡¯s meeting me here any time now.¡± ¡°I was hoping you would bring her. I¡¯d like Charlotte to have a bit of R&R.¡± ¡°Good. I¡¯ll get Ross to bring the car around. Meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.¡± ***** Downstairs, I ease my weight from one foot to the other, my bad leg aching abominably. Fucking terrible weather¡­ Will Spring nevere? Outside, thick fogpetes with driving rain. Unreasonably the weather achieves both together. Next to me, Charlotte coughs, then runs a hand up her neck from hollow to chin. Kirstie looks up. ¡°Would you like a coffee, Mr Alexanders? Charlotte? While you¡¯re waiting? Ross just called to let me know Mrs Haswell is a little dyed.¡± Damn! ¡°Is he? Did he say how dyed?¡± ¡°Just ten minutes or so. But long enough for you to sit down and have a drink if you would like one.¡± ¡°Then, yes. I will, thank you.¡± Kirstie returns only a couple of minutester with a tray. ¡°Coffee for you Mr Alexanders. Charlotte, I made you lemon tea with honey. Are you getting a cold?¡± She draws a palm down her neck again. ¡°Not sure. I¡¯ve had a frog in my throat all morning.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Kirstie passes me a te of biscuits. ¡°I thought you just had to kiss them, and they turned into princes.¡± Then her hand rises to her mouth as Charlotte splutters, spraying lemon tea. Kirstie¡¯s eyes flick to mine, ¡°Oh, God. I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡± She¡¯s flushing scarlet. ¡°Oh, fuck, I¡¯m sorry. I mean¡­¡± I try to screw my ¡®severe Dom¡¯ face into position, but inside I¡¯mughing as hysterically as Charlotte, and Kirstie is not fooled. ***** Chapter 37 Chapter 37 Richard Michael¡¯s bar of choice turns out to be more of a club, humming with activity. A singer croons from the stage; soft jazz which can barely be heard over the vibe of the crowd. A glitter ball spills multi-coloured light across a dance floor and here and there, a strobe stters asional ck-light. The two women take stools at the bar, whilst Michael, James and I find a table in a quieter corner. Girl time¡­ Charlotte, so far as I usually see, normally drinks wine, but Michael has bought cocktails for both her and Elizabeth. The technicolour extravaganzas arrive draped with umbres, fruit, butterflies on sticks and a sparkler fizzing out of the top. The women watch them arrive and both burst into helpless laughter. Then, heads close, they start talking. ¡°How is she now?¡± I nod towards James¡¯ and Michael¡¯smunal wife. ¡°Getting over it, I think,¡± says James. ¡°Without a doubt, it shocked her, learning that Klempner is her father.¡± Michael grunts agreement. ¡°Of course¡­¡± I say, ¡°¡­ it was always known to be a possibility, surely? Had she simply closed herself off to the idea?¡± James palms the back of his neck. ¡°My guess is it was Klempner¡¯s own certainty that Conners was her father that convinced her. But equally, I¡¯d say that she wanted to be convinced.¡± He nces at Michael, the question in his eye, but the blond man isn¡¯t paying attention. Instead, he¡¯s looking across the floor to where the women are involved in animated conversation. He sucks at his cheeks; gives me a nudge. ¡°What do you think they''re talking about?¡± ¡°How should I know?¡± ¡°Look at them,¡± he says. ¡°Look.¡± As one, James and I spin. N?velDrama.Org content rights. Charlotte is holding her palms open, perhaps two handspans apart. Elizabeth responds by opening her thumb and forefinger a couple of inches. They both dissolve intoughter. Michael pulls a face. ¡°You think we should be worried?¡± But a smile quirks at the corners of his mouth. Elizabeth holds up a palm, moving it up and down as though weighing something. Charlotte responds by making a fist of her hand then sliding it up and down some invisible object with a pumping action. Then they both crease up again. Michael, chin propped on fist, turns to James. ¡°Is this the rest and rxation you had in mind? Something about that conversation sends a shudder down my spine.¡± James sits back with an expression of mock austerity. ¡°My ego can cope. They¡¯re fine. If they¡¯re laughing, it can only be a good sign.¡± Michael stands. ¡°Those cocktails are nearly done. I¡¯ll order them a top-up in a minute.¡± He strolls off in the direction of the bathrooms. I watch my beautiful wife,ughter lighting her face as she talks with her friend. ¡°They¡¯re good for each other, those two.¡± James Mmmms into his drink. ¡°A lot inmon; family, intelligence, inclinations; but such contrasting personalities. Yes, I¡¯d agree.¡± ¡°You think Charlotte will get past thistest shock?¡± His brows arch. ¡°She¡¯s faced the world down to get what she wants. I¡¯ve never known anyone with such a terrifying version of courage. She can handle it.¡± Then, he nudges me with an elbow. ¡°Who''s the young wolf prowling around Beth?¡± I look across. Elizabeth, looking nervous, catches my eye. Sitting by the bar, suddenly alone¡­ ¡­ except that a man is there. Weaving, he looks the worse for drink and he¡¯s trying to talk to her. She¡¯s turning away, not meeting his eye. Arms pulled in, legs crossed at the knee, she couldn¡¯t be more obviously uninterested. But she looks upset¡­ She''s vulnerable. Where¡¯s Charlotte vanished to? Scanning the room, I see her heading for the powder room. ¡°Please excuse me for a moment, James.¡± He tilts his ss toward me. The crowd is jostling and shoving, hampering my progress. Just as I find a break in the mass of bodies¡­ as I am about to make my way across the floor, from off-side, Michael moves in. Over the hubbub, I can¡¯t make out his words, but he stands beside Elizabeth, who leans towards him, saying something to the man, shaking her head. The stranger scowls, his face reddening, chin jutting at Michael. The blond man steps forward, oh-so- slightly. Although he¡¯s tall, he¡¯s not overly so, standing eye-to-eye with the stranger. And his expression is mild¡­ But I¡¯ve seen Michael punch right through a door¡­ Elizabeth¡¯s unwee visitor backs off, then away. Michael stares after the stranger as he vanishes into the crowd then turns back to Elizabeth, offering his arm and nodding across to me and James. He waves a forefinger at the barman, a circr motion, then pointing to our table. Elizabeth is smiling as the pair make their way back across the floor, he with a hand on the small of her back. Despite myself, I chuckle. ¡°Saw that one off rather easily, didn¡¯t he?¡± James¡¯ voice is nd. ¡°Would you pick a fight with him?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I would, no.¡± Charlotte reappears, sees Michael and Elizabeth moving to join us then pulls up a seat at the table. Looking between James and me, ¡°Have I missed something?¡± ¡°Just Michael defending Beth¡¯s honour¡­¡± says James, mouth quirking. ¡°¡­ in the absence of her usual bodyguard.¡± Charlotte blinks and flushes but doesn¡¯t seem unhappy. Then as the two arrive, ¡°That was rather well done,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you, Michael. I was heading across myself, but you beat me to it.¡± ¡°My pleasure. Anytime.¡± ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± Elizabeth drops her eyes, sucking at her lower lip. Michael rubs a knuckle over her cheekbone, then lifts her hand and kisses the fingers¡­ Will that upset Charlotte? Or James? But neither appears concerned; or indeed, barely to notice. ¡°What were you talking about?¡± says Michael. ¡°Talking? What? When?¡± Charlotte takes her second cocktail from the tray that has just arrived. ¡°A few minutes ago.¡± Michael holds his hands about eight inches apart¡­ Charlotte stalls but Elizabeth breaks in, stirring her own cocktail using a stick with a fuzzy blue bee stuck on the end. ¡°Charlotte was telling me about the greenhouse Michael''s building for her, and the things she''s going to grow in it.¡± The blond man levels his gaze at her. ¡°Cucumbers and things,¡± she finishes, her eyes wide and green. How can a lying face look so innocent? ¡°So, what was the¡­?¡± I measure two inches with curled thumb and forefinger. ¡°I like gherkins.¡± Her face poker-straight, Elizabeth meets James¡¯ eye and Michael¡¯s, but not mine. ¡°I was asking Charlotte to grow some for me.¡± ¡°And the...?¡± James makes a weighing gesture with the palm of a hand. ¡°She likes beef-steak tomatoes too,¡± says Charlotte. She looks at me but not at James or Michael. ¡°And the¡­?¡± Michael repeats the pumping action Charlotte was making. Charlotte stalls, but Elizabeth breaks in. ¡°She was showing me how the pest-sprayer works¡­¡± He cocks a brow¡­ ¡°¡­ For the aphids.¡± Then she turns away, the two women knotting together in a ¡®Secret Sorority¡¯ huddle that makes my teeth grow soft. ¡°Do you think there was a word of truth in any of that?¡± I murmur. ¡°I''m not sure,¡± says James. ¡°Do you really want to know the answer?¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t think I do.¡± ¡°Then I suggest you don''t ask the question.¡± ***** Chapter 38 Chapter 38 Twenty-Six Years Ago The phone rings and he picks it up¡­ ¡°Hello?¡± ¡­ then jolts as he hears the voice. ¡°Davey? Is that you?¡± ¡°Shelley? Yes, it¡¯s me.¡± He pauses, looks over his shoulder then around the doorway into the lounge. ¡°Shelley, Stephen¡¯s not here right now, but I¡¯ll have to talk quietly. How are you? Why are you calling? After all this time, why are you calling now?¡± ¡°Davey¡­¡± Her voice trembles. ¡°I was wondering if¡­ Would it be possible for me toe home?¡± ¡°Home?¡± He holds the receiver as though using it of lying. ¡°You want toe home? Shelley, has something happened? Are you alright?¡± ¡°Yes, something¡¯s happened, and¡­ no, I¡¯m not alright. Do you think I coulde? Would that be... possible?¡± ¡°Permanently you mean? To leave the City?¡± Clumping sounds in the background; Stephening down the stairs. ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°Ah¡­ no-one.¡± Stephen looks at him askance. ¡°No-one? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± David takes a breath. ¡°It¡¯s Shelley.¡± ¡°Shelley?¡± Stephen looks upstairs. ¡°And what does she want?¡± David covers the receiver with a hand. ¡°She wants toe home. I think there¡¯s something wrong.¡± ¡°Is that right? Well, there was a lot wrong when she took off the way she did. I thought it would kill Dad. She¡¯s noting back now.¡± ¡°Steph¡­¡± ¡°Give me that phone.¡± Stephen snatches it from his brother¡¯s hand. ¡°Shelley. You¡¯re noting back here. Don¡¯t ring again. You¡¯re not wee.¡± He starts to m the receiver down, but David grabs it before it clicks down. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to talk to our sister.¡± ¡°She¡¯s no sister of mine. And she¡¯s noting back.¡± The voice babbles out of the ear-piece. ¡°Davey, I¡¯m scared. Something has happened and¡­ Oh, God, please Davey, I¡¯m so frightened.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do Shelley, but I can¡¯t make any promises. Can you tell me what¡¯s wrong?¡± Stephen snatches back the receiver from his brother, ms it down on the cradle. ¡°So she¡¯s in trouble. You know how she was earning a living. Probably just got herself pregnant by some stranger and now she wants to bring her bastard back here.¡± ¡°For Christ¡¯s sake, Steve, show a little charity.¡± ¡°Charity begins at home and she¡¯s noting back.¡± ***** The Present - James I knock on the door: Foreman¡¯s Office. A grunt; ¡°Door¡¯s open.¡± As I enter, Sam Caghan stands at a table, resting on both palms as he stoops over site schematics spread t, pinned at the corners with ashtrays, a spanner and a wilting pot nt. ¡°Got five minutes?¡± ¡°Course I have, James.¡± He jerks his chin to a stack of mugs. ¡°Coffee?¡± ¡°Thanks, yes.¡± Hands grey with ground-in dirt tip instant coffee into mugs. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± His voice is a growl brought on by years of shouting outdoor instructions up gantries and scaffolding, and across acres. He pours from the kettle and passes me the cup. I eye the chipped and stained enamel for signs of life¡­ Thank God for boiling water¡­ ¡­ then tip back a scalding mouthful. ¡°Sam, that youngster I asked you to try out a couple of weeks ago; Benny. How¡¯s he doing?¡± Sam sniffs, scratches his chin with a sound like sandpaper. ¡°Well, thed told it to you right. He¡¯s good with his hands. I moved him around a bit, tried him out in different areas. He worked hard¡­ did his best¡­ everywhere I put him. But he came into his own with Maintenance.¡± I suck up more of the horrible brew¡­ Wonder if any part of it ever grew on a coffee tree? ¡°In what way?¡± He waves over at one of the earthmovers. ¡°Big Betty over there was giving us a lot of trouble¡­¡± ¡°What was the fault?¡± ¡°Slow¡­ Erratic¡­ odd pump noises, spongy responses. The mechanics had cleaned the filters, changed the filters, changed the fluid. Nothing helped. I thought I was going to have to send her in for a complete refit.¡± He gives me a long look. ¡°You know what that does to the budget¡­ Then Benny got to ying around with it. Spotted a loose mp on the pump suction hose that was letting air into the system. He had her going again and working in under an hour.¡± N?velDrama.Org content rights. Perfect¡­ ¡°Possible future as a maintenance engineer then?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say thed¡¯s a natural.¡± ¡°Thank you, Sam.¡± ***** Chapter 39 Chapter 39 The door opens and Benny shuffles in, looking around, goggle-eyed. I¡¯vee to take for granted my office, with itsforts, its luxury and the vast panorama over the City. It¡¯s a reminder to me not to forget my roots, seeing the reaction of someone who is so much a stranger to privilege and wealth. ¡°Come in, Benny. Sit down. Make yourselffortable.¡± I turn to Charlotte. ¡°Could you ask Francis to bring in coffee for three, please.¡± She nods, pops out and then back in again almost immediately. I point her to sit off to one side. Gesturing Benny to the couches by the windows, I take the seat opposite for myself; a low table between us, a thin brown envelope lying on top. ¡°Thank you foring today.¡± ¡°Um, that¡¯s fine.¡± He picks at a thumbnail. ¡°Um¡­ what am I here for exactly? Am I in some kind of trouble?¡± He sneaks a nce to Charlotte who grins and winks at him. I shoot her a nce and she subsides. ¡°No, not at all,¡± I say. ¡°Quite the opposite. I¡¯ve been talking to Sam¡­¡± His forehead creases¡­ ¡°¡­ Sam Caghan, the site foreman, about how you¡¯ve been doing down there. He says you¡¯re getting on pretty well and I wondered if you would like to make it permanent?¡± His face lights up. ¡°Mr Caghan says I done good?¡± ¡°He does, yes. Would you like to stay on with us, Benny? The Company. We can always use talented hands.¡± ¡°Oh, yes. Absolutely. The job¡¯s great.¡± ¡°Good.¡± I push the envelope towards him. ¡°You can ask Charlotte here to read this to you, but roughly, we are offering you a permanent position with the Haswell Corporation in an apprentice training scheme with a view to you qualifying as a maintenance engineer.¡± Benny¡¯s jaw drops but a delighted smile is forming. I hold up a finger. ¡°There are, however, conditions.¡± His face falls. ¡°I don¡¯t think you will find the conditions objectionable. In order toplete your apprentice training, it is necessary that you are literate to an adequate standard¡­¡± Benny havers then looks to Charlotte, eyes full of appeal. ¡°He means you need to learn how to read and write,¡± she says. ¡°Ah¡­¡± He hunches. ¡°To this end,¡± I say, ¡°you will attend adult literacy sses, if necessary, at night school to attain the necessary standards. I suspect that Charlotte here will be happy to assist you¡­¡± Benny swings his gaze to my vigorously nodding mermaid. His Adam¡¯s apple bobs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I mean thank you¡­¡± I interrupt him. ¡°No thanks needed, Benny. Everyone deserves a fair shot at life. Yours is justing a bitter than usual.¡± ***** Twenty-Six Years Ago ¡°Give me my stuff, Angelo.¡± He won¡¯t meet her eye as she scrabbles through bags, snatching whatever looks useful and stuffing into a holdall. ¡°Mitch, I¡¯m sorry. He threatened me¡­¡± She looks up; the briefest of eye contacts. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You were scared. I get it. I¡¯m scared. I¡¯m going.¡± ¡°Where to, Mitch? Where will you go?¡± But she doesn¡¯t answer¡­ He¡¯s already betrayed her once¡­ ¡°Mitch, there you are!¡± She swivels to see Frank propped against the bar. He gives her that big, all- American smile of his. ¡°I was beginning to think you and Larry had run off into the sunset together.¡± Turning to the barman, ¡°Beer and a whiskey chaser, please, Angelo.¡± Then, ¡°What can I get you, Mitch?¡± Her eyes dart to his and then, flushing, she looks away again, shoving stuff into her holdall. ¡°Mitch, what''s wrong?¡± She mutters something iprehensible. Angelo ps the drinks down on the bar next to him, but Frank ignores them. ¡°Mitch? What is it? Have I done something to offend you?¡± She shoots him a toxic look. ¡°Not been talking with your friend then?¡± ¡°Friend? What are you talking about? D¡¯you mean Larry? Has he upset you?¡± It dawns that Angelo is memoing him from one side with short shut-the-fuck-upe-here gestures. Eyes flicking between the hair-trigger beauty to one side and the urgently gesturing barman to the other, he picks up his beer. Leaning over his ss, he listens as Angelo mutters quietly, close by. His heads drops. ¡°Drugs? No¡­¡± Frank puts the beer down, knocks back the shot then, ¡°Mitch? Drugs?¡± She stands, eyes aze. ¡°Look at me, Frank. Look at me. Here¡­¡± She holds up a slim white wrist, rolling back the sleeve of a blouse. ¡°Look at my veins, my skin. Here¡­¡± She leans in close. Look at my eyes, my nose. You¡¯ve seen the rest, plenty of times. Do I look as if I¡¯ve been using? Do I behave like that? It¡¯s crap. Lies. Total utter, fucking lies.¡± A sob breaks free and she drops her face into her hands. ¡°God, what am I going to do?¡± Frank, bewildered, ¡°Mitch, I believe you. But what¡¯s this about? Angelo says the police were after you, but¡­. Some guy giving you trouble? You got a stalker or something?¡± ¡°No¡­ Yes... I don¡¯t know.¡± Shaking, she hugs herself, arms sped tight. ¡°Angelo, I¡¯ll have another and a brandy for Mitch.¡± Frank takes her at the shoulders. ¡°Sit down. Calm down and tell me what¡¯s the matter. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s something we can sort out for you. Nothing¡¯s that bad.¡± He gestures to a nearby seat, but she resists, instead heading for a far corner of the lounge. Angelo follows after a moment, puts the brandy in front of her, arge one, but she sits, lips sealed until he is out of earshot again. ¡°Drink the brandy, Mitch.¡± She tries to brush it to one side, but Frank lifts it, tilting it to her lips. ¡°Drink it. Some at least. You¡¯re no good to anyone in that state.¡± Chest heaving, she drinks; just a sip, then another. Then she takes a good mouthful. ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, start at the beginning. What¡¯s Larry done to upset you so much? I thought the two of you were an item now.¡± ¡°How well do you know him, Frank? How did you meet him?¡± ¡°Um, let¡¯s see¡­¡± He rubs an ear. ¡°I¡¯ve known him a while, maybe three years. We met because I was acting for the vendor on the Blessingmoors site¡­¡± She shivers. ¡°And what did he tell you he wanted it for?¡± ¡°You know what he wanted it for. It¡¯s a shelter¡­¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t. It¡¯s not a shelter at all. It¡¯s a prison. I was in there, Frank.¡± He jerks back, brows pulling together. ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°I saw it, Frank. I saw it. I went there to try to find Larry. But there were women inside. Girls. Locked in, Chained up. They were prisoners. I tried to let them out, but I had no way of releasing them. And there were voices. Men¡¯s voices. People moving around. I left, but I was seen. And¡­ and¡­ the police came for me afterwards. I¡¯ve never touched drugs. Never. Someone wasing for me. And I told mywyer about it¡­¡± Frank, chin propped on a fist, screws up his face. ¡°Mitch¡­ you¡¯re not making all this up, are you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what thewyer said¡­¡± Her voice hitches¡­ ¡°¡­but he believed me in the end and now... now ¡­ he¡¯s dead¡­¡± ¡°Dead?¡± ¡°In the papers¡­ look.¡± She points up to the bar. ¡°Read it.¡±This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. Frank frowns, stands, fetches the paper. ¡°The man that was gunned down. It was him? That was your lawyer?¡± She nods, the tears flowing again. ¡°God, I¡¯m so scared, Frank. I daren¡¯t go back to my apartment. I¡¯ve nowhere to go. I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± He ps an arm around her shoulder. ¡°Come back with me to my ce. You can stay there for a few nights while we get this sorted out. Eh?¡± Her face is a mask of fear and hope. ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t want to¡­ to bring any of this on you.¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure.¡± He slips the arm down. His hand creeps over hers. ¡°Get your stuff. Let¡¯s get you out of here.¡± ***** Chapter 40 Chapter 40 ¡°Put your things in there. It¡¯s the guest room.¡± He eyes the holdall she is carrying. ¡°Is that all you have?¡± ¡°Yes. Max had them pick up some of my things, but I couldn¡¯t carry much from the hotel.¡± ¡°Give me your keys and your address. Tell me what you want. Make a list. I¡¯ll pick it up for you.¡± She jots down¡­ ¡­ For the long term¡­ ¡­ Never going back¡­ ¡­ Clothes and personal items, a box she keeps containing bank books, tax records and simr, her client records and diaries, a few precious books. A cookie jar she uses for handy cash. Frank scans the list. ¡°Sure that¡¯s all?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine. I won¡¯t stay with you longer than I have to.¡± ***** ¡°I¡¯ve brought back what I could, Mitch, but I couldn¡¯t find all of it.¡± Frank dumps a suitcase containing clothes by the bed, then another. Your books are still in the car, but I couldn¡¯t put hands on those records you were talking about. Or the cash.¡± Wide-eyed, she chews a lip. ¡°But¡­ but they must be there¡­¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t. I looked high and low. They¡¯re not in there.¡± She looks at her feet. ¡°The police must have taken them.¡± She swipes a hand through her hair. ¡°Never mind. I¡¯ll go to the bank. Draw out some cash.¡± ¡°There¡¯s one just down the road. I¡¯ll drive you.¡± ***** ¡°What do you mean? I can¡¯t have it? It¡¯s my money. That¡¯s my ID there¡­¡± Mitch pushes her driving licence under the counter at the teller. ¡°I¡¯m sorry madam, but the ount is locked. There¡¯s nothing I can do about it.¡± ¡°Let me talk to the manager.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see if he¡¯s avable, but these matters are handled by headquarters.¡± ***** ¡°Any luck?¡± Frank pushes a mug to her. ¡°It¡¯s peppermint tea. I know you like it. I got some in for you.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Subdued, she sips. ¡°No. No luck. All they would say is that my ount is frozen.¡± She raises liquid green eyes. ¡°What am I going to do? I¡¯ve no money¡­¡± He sits by her,ys a hand on her thigh. ¡°You¡¯ll get it back when it goes through the courts, Mitch.¡± ¡°Frank, don¡¯t you see? I don¡¯t dare do that. Someone is trying to frame me. Someone has framed me. Someone with police connections. Mywyer¡¯s already been murdered. What kind of people d¡¯you think these are?¡± His voice is flippant. ¡°You can earn more money, Mitch.¡± He doesn¡¯t believe her¡­ Not really¡­ Not deep down¡­ ¡°How? I can''t show my face. Frank, I¡¯ve got to get away from here.¡± Pressing fingers to her forehead, ¡°Christ, I¡¯m painted into a corner. I¡¯ve no money. I can¡¯t work. If I moved away, I¡¯ve nothing for a down- payment on a new ce¡­¡± ¡°Hey, Mitch. Calm down.¡± He tightens his hold on the thigh. ¡°You¡¯ve got me. Stay as long as you want.¡± ¡°Frank, I can¡¯t pay rent or housekeeping or anything¡­¡± He smacks a kiss onto her forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. There¡¯s more than one way of paying rent isn¡¯t there?¡± She turns to meet him full in the face. ¡°And besides¡­¡± He waggles a finger at the silver butterfly hanging around her neck. ¡°¡­ You¡¯re still wearing it. So, Larry or no Larry, you must like me, eh?¡± He slips an arm right around her, curving around spine and ribs to settle on a breast, giving it a squeeze. ¡°What d¡¯you say?¡± What choice does she have? Slumping, eyes brimming, Mitch turns to look the other way. Slowly, and for the first time in her life, feeling like a whore, ¡°Alright, Frank. I¡¯ll stay.¡± ***** James Rainshes sideways onto the windows. Roll on Spring. Is this sted weather never going to end? But I¡¯m warm andfortable; naked next to my dozing Jade-Eyes, her body heat percting to me. And beyond her¡­ Where¡¯s Michael? Got up early¡­? The wind howls aint, rattling ss and theshing of the rain turns to a spattering¡­ Sleet? Why would he get up early for this? Much better here¡­ ¡­ but over the ther of the weather, I hear the hiss of the shower in the en-suite. I consider the tumble of red hair lying next to me. How is she now? Over the shock? Or at least dealing with it? I try an experimental stroke over the curve of a shoulder. She sighs and stirs. She does look much better¡­ Another stroke. This time I follow it through along a smooth, pale arm. The eyes flicker open, green orbs settling on me. The mouth curves up. ¡°Good morning, Master.¡±Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. ¡°Good morning. Slept well?¡± ¡°I did yes.¡± I trace the line of her jaw with a thumbnail. And, how are you? How are you feeling?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡­¡± Her expression alters as it prates what I am actually asking. Then the smile curves up a little more. She palms my hand into hers, pulling it to her mouth, kissing the fingers. ¡°I''ll live.¡± She turns serious, her face softening. ¡°And, how are you?¡± Something stabs through me and my gut tightens. Georgie¡­ But I jemmy the smile onto my face; keep my words soft. ¡°I''ll live too.¡± Jade¡­ Having her back and smiling again¡­ Beyond rubies¡­ She releases my hand, trailing fingers over my shoulders and neck, running into my hair. The sensation skitters over me, popping nerve-endings down to my groin, stiffening my shaft. ¡°What would you like, Master?¡± Curving an arm under her shoulders I draw her close, nestling her to my chest. Sweeping away a tide of copper hair, I draw my hand over one lovely breast, thumbing at the rosy nipple; perking it up as she sighs beside me. ¡°I would like to feel you getting wet for me.¡± Dropping over the breast I take the nipple in my mouth, nibbling and teething hard enough to spike a little pain through her. The breath rattles from her lips, her hips quivering against my erection. Then she bows her spine, reaching back, winding fingers around the bars of the headboard as emerald eyes settle on mine again. Her beautiful submission¡­ ¡°Open your legs.¡± Obediently, her eyes never leaving mine, she does so. Spreading herself, feet t to the nkets, her hips raised in the way she knows I enjoy. Quickly, I push a pillow under her, supporting her arched position, keeping herfortable. She¡¯s so lovely; naked, her body open as she gives herself to me. My cock throbs a rhythm, but there¡¯s no hurry. In a while, I¡¯ll get inside, but just now, I¡¯m happy to lie beside her, letting my hands do the exploring. t-palmed, I smooth over the swell of first one, then the other breast. Heading south, I brush over creamy-pale skin and her taut, t belly to tangle fingertips in the fiery curls at her loins. Her eyes are fluttering closed. ¡°Look at me, Charlotte.¡± The lids flick open, and irises, vivid and verdant as a tropical forest, turn to mere rims encircling ebon pupils. Not for the first time, I find myself entranced by her face. Stroking her one-handedly through the crease of hip and thigh, the softest and most sensitive of skin, my merest touch and movement brings her response. Using a fingernail, I draw a tracery over her skin, watching as her lips part and her eyes begin to flicker closed again¡­ ¡°Look at me¡­¡± They snap open once more, but her milky skin is flushing; a tide of rose flushing over breast and neck, pinpoints of colour on her cheeks Gliding down to stroke over warmbia, my finger pads vibrate with the quiver that echoes through her flesh. An impulse tells me to probe, to open her, but I resist it, waiting for the petals to unfold of themselves. Long, unhurried strokes, first over lips, then the delicate skin of her inner thighs, then back again. My fingertips are growing wet, and as I continue, she heats and unfurls. And all the while, I lock my eyes with hers. My shaft is trembling, demanding action. Pressing myself against her, the firm muscle of her thigh quakes against my groin, increasing the pressure, hardening me further¡­ Soon¡­ ¡­ but not yet¡­ Hot juices spill over my hand, slippery and tantalising. Curling my palm over her entrance, she¡¯s flowing freely now, and I prate with a finger... A moan escapes her throat. Again, her eyes begin to close. ¡°Look at me.¡± Once more, she obeys, her breathing in short spurts, breasts vibrating with her heartbeat, matching my own sky-rocketing pulse. ¡­ circling her inside, spiralling within, stretching her. The lush tang of her arousal billows and wet heat floods over my palm. I press in. Another finger and another, sying my fingers. Her moans grow urgent, then turn to wails as I press my thumb against her clit. Her whole body is a-tremble¡­ ¡°Master, please.¡± ¡°You can¡¯te yet.¡± Her lips peel back, air whistling through her teeth. Time for a change of pace¡­ Rolling away from her and off the bed, I peel her hands free of the bars, swing her around. Shifting the pillow to support her head, I tug her forward until her hips overhang the mattress edge, I kneel, slip fingers through her folds to open her, then push her ankles over my shoulders. Her pussy is cherry against cream, the puffy flesh glistening. Mouthing at her thighs, Ip away the honey coating her skin then Aaahhh¡­ heated air over her vulva. She convulses: ¡®Oh, God¡­.¡± ¡°Control yourself. You may note yet.¡± Then I pump her again with a couple of fingers. Her face straining forward, ¡°Master¡­¡± ¡°I said, no.¡± Then I push my hand to her face. ¡°Taste yourself.¡± Opening her mouth, she sucks at the fingers. ¡°Now tell me what you taste of.¡± Her brow makes a vee. ¡°Taste of? I don¡¯t know, Master.¡± Dipping inside her again, I recoat index and middle fingers in her juices, then offer them back to her mouth. ¡°Taste yourself, then tell me what you taste of.¡± This time she sucks, eyelids dropping a little in thought. ¡°It¡¯s a little acid. Citrussy perhaps, But musky too. And salty.¡± ¡°That¡¯s better. And that¡¯s what I taste when I drink from your pussy, which is what I¡¯m going to do now. Her breathing increases and her head drops back to the pillow. ¡°Open your legs wider. You can rest on my shoulders.¡± Her weight presses through the soles and as I drop my mouth to her entrance, she shudders. Quickly I speak again. ¡°You may note. Not until I say so.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try, Master.¡± But her voice is shaky. ¡°You¡¯ll do better than try. If youe before I give you permission, I¡¯ll punish you.¡± The shudder runs through her again, but shepses into silence save for the sound of her panting¡­ How far to take her? Force her into a punishment? Let¡¯s see¡­ From the bathroom, Michael silently enters, his hair wet and a towel slung around his hips. He raises a finger to his lips as, taking a seat, hands folded on hisp, he settles to watch. Sying her open with a spread hand, I wrap my mouth around engorged flesh; outer lips tumescent with arousal. Deliberately breathing heavily, I bathe her in my heat. Her weight shifts as, mewling, she strains, her body curving as her pelvis rises. But I pin her, a hand pressed hard inside each thigh, fixing her position as she tries to writhe, Ip at her bud. Still hooded, still protected, and yet her cries grow louder. Thumbing back the fleshy cover, I take a second or two to enjoy the view; her clit, so small a thing, a tiny erect spike, just begging to be tormented. With my tongue-tip, I trace a circle around and then over, revelling in the salty piquant taste and the slight resistance of her flesh against mine. She wails, hips jolting, and her rising orgasm trembles through my palms. ¡°No¡­ You may note.¡± ¡°Master¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°You can. And you will.¡± And I draw my tongue in a long smooth stroke through the length of her. And again. Her pussy is wide, swollen and fluid, and as I delve deep, swiping andpping and licking, she pulses, throbbing flesh carrying the promise of a crashing orgasm¡­ Yes¡­ Drive her over the edge¡­ Withdrawing just for a moment, I repeat. ¡°I haven¡¯t given you permission toe.¡± Her voice rising half an octave, ¡°Master¡­ I can¡¯t¡­.¡± And I return to her clit, aiming for the sensitive spot she has to the base, probing, massaging and working her. She bucks, then abruptly stills, although still straining, and I look up to see Michael across the bed, grinning as he pins her arms above her head. ¡°Let¡¯s see how obedient you can be to your Master.¡± Draw it out¡­ Ramp it up¡­ She¡¯s flooding, shaking violently and I back off, allowing the tension to ease for a few seconds, then taking her clit between my lips, inserting fingers inside her, I both suckle and fuck her, deliberately taking her to the point of no return. Her answering moan is a long, extended gurgle. Michael¡¯s voice again. ¡°Your Master has not given you permission toe.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ God¡­¡± Her voice is edgy, broken¡­ ¡°No.¡± Muscles humming like violin strings, hips quivering to an ever-rising cadence, she¡¯s brinking. Scalding fluids spill over my hands and all the while I continue my torture of her clit until with a howl, she surges into climax. She can¡¯t move. Michael has her pinned at one end. I have her at the other, still mouthing on her bud, grinning inwardly at her mounting howls. ¡°Enough, Master. Enough!¡± I release my hold on her clit, instead dropping to her pussy, plunging in my tongue, swiping out spirals against her pulsing core. She wails and screams and yells, but I don¡¯t stop, and have no intention of quitting until¡­ ¡°Red!¡± she shrieks. ¡°Red!¡± And I release her, standing back, my cock quivering upright, to watch my mermaid convulse her way through the paroxysm of orgasm. Michael releases her wrists, also standing, his towel protruding to the front. He rubs the back of his head, eyes creasing as he watches her. As she rxes, he resumes his spectator¡¯s seat, thumbing me to her. Charlotte¡¯s eyes open; shift to mine and she stretches out her arms, smiling and beckoning to me. She twists on the bed to lie knees akimbo, hips tilted, weing me with her body in a way that constricts my breath and tightens my balls. Fuck¡­ Yes¡­. Cock throbbing, I kneel between her thighs, anchor myself to her entrance¡­ This isn¡¯t going to take long¡­ ¡­ drawing the moment out as long as I can. Across the room, Michael, his head inclined as he silently watches, strokes his own erection. His colour is high, a sheen on his forehead. Slowly, so slowly, I sheathe myself. Fully inside her, the faint echoes of her climax still pulse; a faint repeating suction that draws the blood to my shaft and sets my heart jackhammering. Biting down, I resist my own release. I essay an experimental thrust¡­ And another. Jeez¡­ No¡­ not going to take long at all¡­ ¡­ and another. Charlotte¡¯s hands are around me, grasping my buttocks, moving with my rhythm but pulling me tight inside her with each stroke. Harder I take her, and faster, driving in deep. The Rush ising; building. Her legs swing up and around me, locking around my waist until, in an overload of erotic pleasure, I Come into my Jade-Eyes. I think I groan. Hips winding as I erupt into her, I spurt once, twice, thrice. Then seeing Michael standing by, my thigh muscles burning, arms trembling, I withdraw, tumbling off to one side. She starts to move, but Michael says, ¡°Stay on your back.¡± I drag two breaths, enough to clear the stars from behind my eyes, then lie on my side to watch as Michael, now straddling her, offers his cock to her mouth. She reaches and he cradles the back of her head with a hand, supporting her, guiding her movement. Jaws straining, she takes him. Sometimes he lets her control it, choosing the pace, letting her suck and lick. But this time he¡¯s simply using her; face-fucking her, albeit carefully. He doesn¡¯t force himself in deep, making her gag and he breaks off every few strokes to let her swallow. But his cockhead, purplish and shiny with engorgement, is asrge as could possibly befortable for her as he uses her mouth. ¡°Lips over teeth,¡± he says¡­ ¡°Now close your mouth a little.¡± Then he eases himself in and out against the pressure. Michael¡¯s breathing is heavy and for a moment he pauses, staring up at the ceiling, then, ¡°I¡¯m going to shoot in a minute. You¡¯re going to get some in your mouth, and I want to see your throat working when you swallow. And I¡¯m going to finish over your face. Got that?¡± ¡°Mmmmppphhh.¡± ¡°Good girl.¡± He straightens up a little, looking down, watching himself, her lips wrapped around his shaft. After a moment he stops thrusting, instead positioning himself with the head poised just inside her mouth, stroking himself into her with one hand, still supporting her head with the other. I don¡¯t generally notice his eyes, although Charlottements on them asionally, but just now, and so close, I see what she means. Deeply, intensely blue, nheless, the colour is being swallowed by the pupils; as though eclipsed, only an azure corona around a ck heart. With a grunt, he judders and spills, cum shooting and spilling between her lips and over them. ¡°Lick it up,¡± he says. Her tongue works, swiping around her mouth and over the still-pumping head. Glutinous stands of cum draw sticky trails as she sucks andps and swallows. At thest, he tugs himself free to wipe thest of his trickling seed over her nose and cheeks, before releasing her to flop t down on the bed. Her eyes are sparkling. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re wee,¡± he says. It sounds¡­ odd¡­ Am I missing something? ***** Chapter 41 Chapter 41 Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago I call the number of the new apartment¡­ The apartment I bought her¡­ No reply. Did she stay? I try her old apartment instead. Still no answer, but the ansa-machine clicks in. ¡°Hi, Mitch. It¡¯s Larry. Just to let you know that I¡¯ll be back tomorrow. I¡¯m hoping we can meet up. I thought you might be able to meet me at the airport. I¡¯m coming in on the three forty-five from Amsterdam. But if you can¡¯t make it, I¡¯ll drop round to the new ce around six. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m looking forward to seeing you.¡± Disappointment pinches at my stomach. Will she meet me? ***** In Arrivals, I scan. The crowd mills and jostles. Kids, shrieking with excitement, run up to adults crouched down with outstretched arms and big smiles. Businessmen with briefcases march up to cabbies holding up cardboard signs scrawled in felt-tip capitals. A girl pushes past me to pelt across the floor and fling herself into the arms of a waiting boyfriend. The pairugh and babble as he lifts her from her feet, spinning her. But there¡¯s no Mitch. She¡¯ll be waiting in the apartment¡­ Bound to be¡­ I hail a cab, staring out at billboards and neon, gaudy in the already failing February light. They advertise rings and choctes, flowers and eternal promises, shing up ¡®Forever¡¯ and I *heart* you¡¯. Wonder if she¡¯ll like the painting? At the harbour, I exit the taxi. Over the waters, lights bob as yachts and pleasure cruisers ride rippling waters. Multi-coloured lights drape from trees and buildings and masts, giving the area a jolly, g-like feel and brightening the streets. But Mitch¡¯s apartment windows are dark. I pay the cabbie, but, ¡°Wait for me would you,¡± ¡°Of course, sir.¡± I reach for the keys in my pocket but on the threshold¡­ Her apartment¡­ No strings¡­ ¡­ I press the bell. There¡¯s no movement. The darkness remains, the silence oppressive. Letting myself in, I dump my case at the door. The lounge is immacte save for a teacup ringed inside with brown and a tea-pot. stone-cold. When I lift the lid, green mould wobbles at me inside. The painting she gave me¡­ Her own work¡­ ¡­ of Helsinki Harbour, sits on the carpet, leaning against the wall. Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. My breath steams in the chill and the air has that slightly stale closed-up taste. I check the master bedroom. The wardrobe; empty. The drawers; empty. The bed looks unslept-in. And save for a few shadings between door and bed, the carpet has that ¡®just-vacuumed¡¯ look to the pile. She didn¡¯t even stay one night? In the guest room, the single I slept in is as I left it, the nkets rumpled, the sheet thrown back from when she invited me to sleep with her. Let-down gnaws at me. Did I offend her that much? With a gift? Glumly, I head back out where the taxi driver stands leaning against his vehicle blowing smoke rings into the evening air. He humps my case into the back again. ¡°Where to, Boss?¡± I give him Mitch¡¯s old address; that dingy apartment which, apparently, she prefers to all that I offered her¡­ Gave her¡­ The taxi pulls away, the garish harbour lights irritating me with their dazzle. What do I say to her? Hi¡­ you just flushed my gift down the drain¡­ As we pull up again, I look up, reflexively seeking her window. Again, it¡¯s in darkness. I check my watch. Headed out¡­? Working again? The cabbie twists in his seat. ¡°Want me to wait again?¡± ¡°Please, yes.¡± I don¡¯t bother with my case. Instead, climbing the stone steps to the door, I fumble a little in the dark on the panel of buzzers before I press hers. There¡¯s a buzz but no response. I try the handle, but of course, it¡¯s locked. Now what? A young woman trundles close pushing a small screaming child in a stroller. At the bottom step, she spins, reverses and tries to back up, struggling with the weight. I sprint down the steps. ¡°Here let me help you with that.¡± She beams gratitude. ¡°Thanks ever so. It¡¯s so hard juggling everything with the keys.¡± Tugging the brat up the steps, I hover while she opens the door then back-up inside with her,plete with the child. ¡°That''s great. I¡¯m fine now.¡± I don¡¯t bother with the niceties. Instead, taking the stairs two at a time, I head up to the third floor and Mitch¡¯s apartment. What the fuck? The door is cracked and broken. A padlock dangles where the lock has been forced. A boot print stares squarely from the scratched paintwork half-way up. My breath grows tight. My gut wrenches. What¡¯s happened? She¡¯s hurt? I yell. ¡°Mitch.¡± Then bang on the door, yelling again. ¡°Mitch are you alright?¡± Then I feel stupid. Padlock on the outside¡­ ¡°She¡¯s not there¡¯¡± creaks a voice from behind me. I spin to face a nose and half an eye peering around the edge of the door opposite. ¡°I can see that. What happened?¡± ¡°Police came. Kicked the door in. She¡¯s been pushing drugs on the local kids. Don¡¯t want her sort here.¡± ¡°Drugs? Mitch? What a load of¡­¡± But the door is closing. Moving fast, I shove my foot in the way. ¡°That¡¯s rubbish. She doesn¡¯t do drugs. Where is she?¡± ¡°How would I know? Cops took her. Not seen her since. Some guy in a suit came. Then another one. He put on the padlock.¡± The voice drops to a grumble. ¡°It¡¯s not good enough. A nice area like this¡­¡± I¡¯ve no interest in listening to him drivel on. There¡¯s a public phone at the bottom of the stairs. Pelting along the hall and down, I snatch up the receiver and dial. ¡°Officer Corby, please.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. He¡¯s not on shift until ten. Can I take a message?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯ll call back.¡± Back to the cab. ¡°Imperial Hotel. Step on it.¡± The driver gives me a sharp look, but I push a bundle of notes in his hand and we arrive in record time on screeching wheels. ***** Chapter 42 Chapter 42 Striding through the bar, ¡°Where is she? Angelo, have you seen her?¡± Palms held catingly upwards, ¡°Hey, Larry calm down. I ain¡¯t done nothing. Yes, I¡¯ve seen her. Cops came sniffing after her. Said she was pushing¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s crap and you know it¡­¡± ¡°You know it. I know it, but they came asking.¡± Something in his manner doesn¡¯t sit well. ¡°What did you tell them?¡± His face drops. ¡°What did you tell them?¡± ¡°Hey, they had me in an awkward spot. Got me by the curlies¡­¡± He backs away as I step around the bar, standing close to look down on him. ¡°What did you tell them?¡± ¡°They wanted her address and¡­¡± He crunches up as my fist sinks into his abs. ¡°Anything else you told them?¡± Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. ¡°No¡­ just that. It¡¯s all the cop wanted¡­¡± Gathering up his shirt in one hand, I haul him upright again, pulling him up and off-bnce. ¡°And have you seen her since?¡± ¡°Two days ago. She was with Frank. She was pretty upset.¡± ¡°She left with him?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Is that all you want to tell me?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it, Larry. Honest.¡± I release him and he drops, arms clutched to his stomach. ¡°If I hear that you missed anything, I¡¯ll be back. Understand me?¡± Speechlessly, still wheezing, he nods. ***** Frank? Where to find him? ¡­ Them¡­ Office¡­ I dial his works number. ¡°Hello, I¡¯d like to speak with Mr Conners, please. It¡¯s Larry Klempner.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. Mr Conners isn¡¯t here today. Can I take a message?¡± ¡°Yes, tell him to call me as soon as possible. He¡¯ll know what it¡¯s about.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do that, sir.¡± I put the receiver down. Something in the receptionist¡¯s tone sounded a little too rehearsed. Was he there? I call Bech again. This time he¡¯s there. ¡°Get my car to me would you, to my hotel. ASAP. And I need some information.¡± He keeps his voice low, the sound of office tter in the background. ¡°Of course, sir. And wee back. A good trip?¡± ¡°It was until I got back. I need to know about an arrest made on a young woman. Probably the drug squad. Michelle Kimberley. You met her briefly.¡± Bech¡¯s voice hangs. ¡°There was, sir, an incident.¡± ? Something in his tone doesn¡¯t sit right¡­ ¡°What kind of incident?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll bring your car myself, sir. I think this would be better face to face.¡± Hanging the receiver up again¡­. What the fuck¡¯s he talking about? ***** ¡°So, what¡¯s been happening, Bech?¡± ¡°Sir, the Kimberley woman was found leaving Blessingmoors after spending an unknown period roaming inside.¡± Shit¡­ ¡°How the fuck did that happen? Who let her in? The ce should be sealed down tight.¡± ¡°That guard concerned will not bemitting any simr faux pas, sir. And I believe the example made of him will discourage any furtherxity in the staff. Repairs have already been made where necessary.¡± ¡°And the girl?¡± ¡°Helga called me immediately. Had it been any other intruder I would have taken steps to eliminate them. However, since I know of your interest in this woman, instead I decided it would be best to discredit and silence her. At least until your return.¡± My temperature rises. Bech backs away a step. ¡°You took it upon yourself to¡­¡± His chin lifts. ¡°Sir, you were not here. Someone had to take charge of the situation.¡± ¡°Did you try to contact me?¡± He swallows, licking at dry lips. ¡°Sir, this woman is dangerous. I realise you are... attracted to her but try to be objective for a moment. A prostitute, albeit a high-ss prostitute, has drawn your attention, perhaps persuaded to spend money on her. She knows too much and what is more, she is spilling what she knows.¡± ¡°Who to?¡± ¡°Herwyer for one.¡± ¡°And what have you done about that?¡± His normal nd tone returns. ¡°Thewyer will not be a problem again, sir.¡± ¡°Who else has she spoken to? The police?¡± ¡°She had the sense not to speak during her interview, other than to im she was innocent of the charges. She was not believed¡­¡± He hesitates. ¡°From the information I have obtained, it seems she has some very interesting clients.¡± ¡°Such as?¡± ¡°The Commissioner of Police for one.¡± ¡°You think she went to him for help?¡± ¡°I think not, sir. Or if she did, she would have been turned away.¡± ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Because the Commissioner will have opened his mail by now. In a letter marked ¡®Personal¡¯, he will find enclosed a list of dates in which he¡­ indulged¡­ in this woman along with the sums he paid her.¡± ¡°You aim to ckmail him?¡± ¡°No, I aim to make him think she is ckmailing him. In any case, I doubt he will be interested in either supporting her or using her services any further. Should I detect any movement in that area, his wife will receive a copy of the same information.¡± ssic Bech technique¡­ He frowns. ¡°What I don¡¯t know, sir¡­¡± He speaks warily¡­ ¡°Is where she is now. Or who she might be with¡­¡± My head pounds. I feel dull, lethargic¡­ Mitch¡­ ¡°She¡¯s with Conners.¡± ¡°Conners? Frank Conners? The real estate agent?¡± ¡°Yes, him.¡± Bech ps hands together, rubs the palms. ¡°Obvious really. Should have thought of that myself. She has you and him linked in her records¡­¡± His words send shockwaves through my thoughts. ¡°What? What records?¡± ¡°She keeps¡­ kept¡­ a client file. All of her customers, listed with personal details, dates, times and monies paid. It¡¯s a gold mine.¡± He casts an eye to me. ¡°You were in there too¡­ part of her client list¡­¡± Is that all I ever was? A client¡­ Bech keeps talking. ¡°Anyway, that should make her easy to track down.¡± ¡°Why? You know Conners¡¯ private address?¡± There¡¯s a touch a condescension in Bech¡¯s tone¡­ Don¡¯t push it¡­ ¡°He runs his ownpany. He¡¯s a director. A lot of his personal details are public information. How hard can he be to find?¡± ***** Chapter 43 Chapter 43 James ¡°Morning, Kirstie.¡± The concierge smiles from her desk as we enter and cross the lobby. ¡°Good morning, Mr Alexanders. Morning Charlotte.¡± Then she riffles through a stack on her in-tray. ¡°Oh, Charlotte. Some mail for you. I had to sign for this one.¡± She offers a small padded envelope, then, clearing her throat, ¡°Um, James¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ve not forgotten my promise, Kirstie. I¡¯m seeing Ryanter this week on-site. I¡¯ll make a point of allowing extra time for a chat with him.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± She bobs her head, the pearl on her velvet choker bobbing with her. Charlotte looks curiously but briefly, her attention taken by the packet. She receives very little mail. And there¡¯s only so many people who might send her a package¡­ My antennae twitching, ¡°Why don¡¯t we go up to my office,¡± I say. ¡°Have a coffee together before we start the working day. You can open it there¡­¡± ¡­ In privacy¡­ She nods, going into silent running. As we ride the elevator, she crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then recrosses them, all the while clutching the packet. As the doors swish open, Francis looks up from her desk. ¡°Coffee for two, please, Francis.¡± And as I wave Charlotte into my office I turn back to the receptionist and hold an invisible telephone receiver to my ear, then draw a finger across my neck in a cut-your-own-throat gesture, mouthing at her silently: ¡°Michael.¡± She nods understanding and heads for her phone. Inside the office I prise the envelope from Charlotte¡¯s fingers, cing to one side. Then taking her by the shoulders, I turn her to face me. ¡°I¡¯m tempted to take it from you, open it for you and only tell you what is inside after I¡¯ve checked it for myself. But I don¡¯t think that would be right. However¡­¡± Iy a fingertip on her lips¡­ ¡°I will ask that, whatever is in there, you remember our conversation of a few days ago. Alright?¡± She¡¯s blinking too quickly. Her movements are jerky, but, ¡°Yes, Master.¡± ¡°Good.¡± I kiss her on the mouth, then offer her the envelope again. She starts to open it but pauses as we are interrupted by Francis tapping at the door, bringing in the coffee. Her eyes flick to the envelope and flick away again just as quickly. As the door closes behind her, Charlotte tugs at the p, trying to peel it open, fighting heavy-weight gum which refuses to yield. Parking a hip on the edge of my desk, I pass her a letter opener. This time the envelope rips, stic bubbles bursting with small spiked pops. She peers in, swallows, then turns it over onto my desk. A small stic zip-bag slides out, along with a sheet of paper. Inside the zip bag; a ne: a fine chain bearing a butterfly in silver filigree. She slides it out, holding it up to the light where it spins, glimmering. It¡¯s only perhaps an inch wide, but it¡¯s beautifully made and, protected by the stic, the metal shines brightly. But I wait. The paper is simply folded in two; a short, typed message: I¡¯m sorry. Pleasee to see me. L.K. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t be able to write it himself, of course,¡± shements, ¡°if he had to get someone else to send it.¡± ¡°No, he wouldn¡¯t. What do you want to do?¡± Fingers trembling, she fumbles with the sp of the ne. ¡°Would you help me.¡± Sweeping her hair to one side, I fasten the chain behind her neck, the butterfly sitting beside the small ammonite she¡¯s already wearing¡­ ¡­ and with a cursory tap, the door opens; Michael. His head swivels between Charlotte¡¯s face, the letter in her hand and my face, then, as I eye-point him down, to the butterfly resting below the hollow of her corbone. His eyes widen as her registers what he is seeing and silently I pass him the note. He reads it, then warily, ¡°Do you want to see him?¡± She touches the butterfly, sucks in her lips. ¡°Yes.¡± ***** I have a promise to keep. And I¡¯m not looking forward to it. I¡¯m fond of Kirstie, and not simply because of how we met, in a three-way scene with Michael at the club years ago. She¡¯s a lovely girl and deserves the best in life. And as a sub, she deserves the best from her Dom. An inept Dom, however well-meaning, is a form for trouble. From my spot across the conference table, I fold away ns and blueprints provided by Ryan. ¡°That¡¯s all fine. I¡¯m very happy with the schematics from the technical side. So, if you can get me the quotes to me by the end of the week¡­¡± ¡°Got them here.¡± He chuckles at my expression then proffers a folder. ¡°I just wanted to be sure you were satisfied before I gave them to you.¡± Efficient as ever¡­ ¡°Ah¡­¡± I sit down again. ¡°Just give me two minutes to read through¡­¡± He sits too, waiting calmly as I scan the documents. Well within budget¡­ Flicking the file closed, I tuck it into my briefcase with the rest. ¡°No problems there. I¡¯ll get the i¡¯s dotted and the t¡¯s crossed, but you¡¯ve got the contract.¡± I offer my hand. ¡°Congrattions.¡± He stands, his smile wide. ¡°That¡¯s great, James. Thanks so much for giving me this opportunity¡­¡± ¡°As I said, there¡¯s plenty of work to go around. Get this right and there¡¯s a lot moreing.¡± ¡°Oh, I will. I will.¡± He slips a diary from his top pocket, flips it open, pen hovering. ¡°So, same time next week? Or should I make an appointment through Francis?¡± Here goes¡­ ¡°Actually Ryan, there¡¯s something else I would like to talk about with you.¡± His forehead creases. ¡°Of course, um¡­¡± ¡°But not here. It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate. Would you care to join me for lunch?¡± He inclines his head. ¡°Certainly. What¡¯s this about?¡± ¡°As I say, not here.¡± He scratches an eyebrow then, ¡°Mind if I suggest the eatery? Do you like Italian?¡± ¡°Absolutely.¡± ¡°Great. Luigi¡¯s then.¡± ¡°Ah, one of my favourites too.¡± Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. ¡°Really? The chef there is a rtive of mine.¡± ***** Chapter 44 Chapter 44 I twirl my fork into spaghetti tinted a brilliant green with pesto. Spaghetti is a food which, while I¡¯m partial to it, I normally reserve for eating in decent privacy. There¡¯s nothing like having sauce down the front of your shirt to ruin your credibility. However, given the nature of the conversation I want to have¡­ ¡­. Promised to have¡­. ¡­ with Ryan, I epted his rmendation. Won¡¯t do any harm to pass a fewpliments to his rtive¡­ And the food is indeed excellent. ¡°Parmesan?¡± Ryan passes me the grater. ¡°They make the pesto here. Grow it themselves in the gardens at the back.¡± ¡°Really? Great idea. I¡¯ll suggest it to Michael and Charlotte. He¡¯s looking to build up the hotel restaurant and she¡¯s looking for excuses to grow things.¡± And I dry up. How the hell to begin this¡­? Ryan forks up pasta, chewing, sipping at an excellent white Sauvignon and asionally ncing up at me. After a few minutes, he says, ¡°So, what is it can I do for you, James? I gather it¡¯s not rted to the project?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not. The fact is¡­¡± The fork perches half-way to his mouth. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°We had an incident with Kirstie at work¡­¡± His face clouds over. ¡°An incident? What¡¯s wrong? Her work¡¯s not up to scratch? I¡¯ll talk to¡­¡± I interrupt. ¡°Her work is excellent, and even if it weren¡¯t, it would be Kirstie herself I would speak to about it, not you.¡± His feathers settling, ¡°What then?¡± My mouth is dry. I swill a little wine around my mouth. ¡°Kirstie came into work one morning, obviously upset.¡± Ryan¡¯s head tilts. ¡°She¡¯d been crying and had tried to cover it up under the make-up. Even if her position did not ce her on the front desk meeting the visitors, that is clearly not eptable.¡± ¡°Crying? What was she crying about?¡± His expression is neutral, his voice t. ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± ¡°No. I didn¡¯t. If I had, obviously I¡¯d have gotten to the bottom of it myself. So, what did she say?¡± ¡°Straight off, nothing, butter she asked to see me.¡± His face tightens. ¡°To see you? Why did she want to see you? Is this to do with Charlotte?¡± ¡°No.¡± I scoop up more pasta, chewing slowly to buy myself thinking time. ¡°Kirstie wanted to talk to me in my capacity as her friend and as a Dom.¡± Ryan stiffens. ¡°What?¡± ¡°She wanted to ask my advice regarding¡­ her rtionship with you.¡± His fork tters to the te. ¡°Do I understand you correctly? You have been discussing my and Kirstie¡¯s¡­ private¡­ life?¡± ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± ¡°What the fuck is¡­?¡± Ryan¡¯s voice rises. Faces turn. He looks around, scowls and leans forward over the table. But his voice is lower. ¡°What the fuck is my sex life to do with you, James?¡± ¡°Nothing at all. Except that the only reason I had the conversation with Kirstie was that she was obviously distressed, and she asked me for help.¡± ¡°What help? Why should Kirstie need your help?¡± He leans closer, hissing, ¡°You think I don¡¯t know how you met her? At the clubs in a threesome while you were having your fun and frolics? That was years ago, and it doesn¡¯t give you the right to¡­¡± I¡¯m growing warm. ¡°She asked for my help. Don¡¯t you want to hear what she had to say?¡± Lips pressed t, bolt upright in his seat, ¡°Alright then, what did she say?¡± Resisting my own rising temper¡­ ¡­ which won¡¯t help Kirstie¡­ ¡°Kirstie is your sub¡­¡± ¡°So?¡± The syble could cut metal. ¡°¡­ and you are her Dom. But as I understand it, you are fairly new to D/s rtionships?¡± His chin juts then pushes down into his chest. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So¡­ from what Kirstie tells me, I think that perhaps you haven¡¯t caught all the nuances of how a full- blooded D/s rtionship works.¡± His voice is rising again; pitch and volume. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about James?¡± Once more, heads turn in our direction, this time to meet the sh from his eyes and turn away again. Then, more circumspectly, ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Stay cool¡­ ¡°Does the phrase ¡®The Doms have the control. The subs have the power.¡¯ mean anything to you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve read of it, yes. So?¡± That word is beginning to annoy me. ¡°So, while the Dom has control, it is not unconditional, and it is not without limits. The sub always has the final say on how far things go; whether we¡¯re talking about the bedroom or day-to-day living...¡± He shifts in his seat. ¡°In a D/s rtionship, the sub has a safe word. And if that safe word is used, then it is for the Dom to stop whatever is happening. Not to question it. Not to get annoyed. To stop. That is at the core of the rtionship.¡± Ryan¡¯s not eating. The food lies forgotten in front of him and his hands are fisting. One of the waiters saunters over, radiating fake nonchnce. ¡°Everything okay, Ry?¡± Between gritted teeth, ¡°Fine.¡± The waiter looks first to Ryan, then to me. Then he retreats beyond the fall-out zone. When he¡¯s out of earshot, Ryan¡¯s gaze rises to mine. ¡°What exactly has Kirstie being saying to you?¡± ¡°She tells me that¡­¡± Christ¡­. Choose your words carefully¡­. ¡°¡­ sometimes, when the two of you are involved, she calls her safe word and you get angry about it.¡± His gaze flicks away; face reddening, knuckles turning white. Can¡¯t leave it there¡­ Get the message home¡­ ¡°Ryan, you can¡¯t do that. However much any sub gets from being dominated, when you reach their limits, you have to stop. That¡¯s how it works. Otherwise, it¡¯s not Domination, it¡¯s bullying; abuse. A safe word that can¡¯t be used, or is ignored, is not a safe word.¡± His eyes, almost ck, snap back to mine. Yanking the napkin from hisp he hurls it on the table, stands and leaves. Curious faces follow him. The waiter res at me. That could have gone better¡­ The spaghetti lies congealed on my te, the virulent green sauce unappetising, and the cheese smells sour. I take a mouthful of the wine, washing it around my mouth, but even that tastes bitter. Crap¡­ gging down the waiter, I call for the check. ***** The following morning, Charlotte and I enter Haswell Building. Kirstie is at her station on the main reception desk. Even from the door her makeup is visibly caked on. I nudge Charlotte. But she¡¯s ahead of me, already heading for the girl. And there¡¯s something else¡­ ¡­ which I can¡¯t put my finger on¡­ Fuck¡­ She¡¯s not wearing her choker; a thin ribbon of velvet, dangling a single pearl; Ryan¡¯s cor on her. And it¡¯s gone. ¡°Mrs Gillis,¡± I yell across the lobby. Kirstie¡¯s supervisor waddles out from her office, peering up at me through bottle-bottom spectacles. ¡°Yes, Mr Alexanders?¡± ¡°Could you man the desk, please. I need to talk to Kirstie here.¡± She frowns. ¡°It¡¯s not very convenient¡­¡± Iy a hand on her shoulder, giving her my most winning smile¡­ ¡­ Charlotte tilts her head, giving me an old look¡­ ¡°I¡¯m very sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs Gillis, but I do need Kirstie for a while. Someone has to hold the fort and I know you¡¯re more than capable of handling anything the job will throw at you.¡± She beams through gappy teeth. ¡°Well, yes I can. And since it¡¯s you who¡¯s asking¡­¡± Concealing a shudder at the implication of ¡®you¡¯, ¡°Thank you, very much. Come along, Kirstie. Up to my office.¡± With a hand in the small of Kirstie¡¯s back, I ease her in the direction of the elevators. Inside, despite her puffy eyes, she raises a smile. ¡°Told you she fancies you.¡± Charlotte jerks her face away, sucking in a smile. ¡°Kirstie, can we gloss over that, please. The very thought is giving me in-growing toenails.¡± She chuckles, just for a moment more like her normal self, then her face crumples. Charlotte wraps an arm around her. As the doors open, I thumb Charlotte to take the weeping Kirstie straight into my office, by-passing the startled nces of Francis and Richard. Richard drills a look at my office door then transfers it to me. ¡°James?¡± I hold up palms. ¡°Not guilty¡­ Well, mainly not guilty¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± ¡°I think she¡¯s just given Ryan his marching orders.¡± His expression creases. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s a shame. They made such a good couple. Do you know why?¡± Belonging to N?velDrama.Org. ¡°Not epting safe word.¡± Richard purses his lips, nodding slowly. ¡°Yup, that¡¯ll do it every time.¡± ***** Chapter 45 Chapter 45 In the office, Charlotte, looking helpless, sits with arms wrapped around the wildly sobbing Kirstie, patting her on the shoulders, making crooning noises and pushing a conveyor belt of tissues into her hand. I feel terrible. Fucked that one up, didn¡¯t I¡­? Perching a hip on the desktop by her, ¡°Kirstie¡­ I¡¯m so sorry. I tried¡­¡± She sniffles into the tissues. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, James. He wouldn¡¯t listen to me. He wouldn¡¯t listen to you.¡± She rummages in a pocket, tugs something out; a crumpled ribbon of velvet. She holds it in her hand. The single pearl it carries dangles forlornly. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she says. ¡°Do you want to go home?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯ll drive you.¡± Her head swings. ¡°No, thank you, James. I¡¯d rather work. I¡¯d rather be here.¡± ***** Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago True to his prediction, Bech produces an address for Conners in under an hour. ¡°I put Malory on there,¡± he says, ¡°to check out if she¡¯s there. It¡¯s on the fourth floor, but he confirms he¡¯s sighted a red-headed woman moving around inside.¡± He tugs at his chin, eyeing me spectively. ¡°What are your orders, sir?¡± I want nothing more than to walk away from this. To lie down. To sleep away the banging inside my head. ¡°Sir?¡± This is about survival¡­ ¡°Sir, we cannot let this woman run free. She knows too much. She¡¯s a loose cannon.¡± He¡¯s right¡­ But I can¡¯t bring myself to give the order. Bech inhales. ¡°Sir, I understand that you find this difficult. If you wish, I will handle it.¡± ¡°No!¡± Bech jolts at my tone. More calmly, ¡°No. As you say, Bech. It has to be handled. Tell Malory to stay where he is. Keep a track of where they are. We¡¯ll meet him there.¡± ***** By the elevator, Malory is waiting for us as we arrive. In blue overalls and with a toolbox on hand, he¡¯s making a show of working on a radiator under the window. Conners¡¯ apartment is down the corridor one way. In the other direction; thending branches to the stairwell, then more apartments. ¡°They both inside?¡± I ask. ¡°She¡¯s inside.¡± Malory thumbs out of the window, down and across the street. ¡°He¡¯s in the take-out. Saw him go in there ten minutes ago.¡± Bech grunts. ¡°Should be due out any minute now then.¡± As we watch, a familiar figure, carrying arge t box, exits the pizza parlour and crosses the road. He enters the building and a few secondster the indicator for the elevator shes downwards for the ground floor. ¡°You two stay in the background,¡± mutters Bech. ¡°I¡¯ll meet and greet our Mr Conners.¡± Malory and I retreat to the stairwell, watching through the ss panel. Bech stands away from the elevator to be behind Conners as he exits and turns for his apartment. The elevator bings, the doors open and Conners steps out, heading for the corridor. Bech follows behind. ¡°Mr Conners? Frank Conners? Could I have a word please.¡± He shes a badge, and for just a moment, Conners only sees the badge and the uniform¡­ Then his eyes widen in recognition¡­ He has no time to react. Bech cuts off his words with a punch in the gut that drops him to his knees, gasping and coughing. Then he and Malory haul him upright between them. ¡°Keys,¡± I snap. Bech reaches into one pocket, then another. Then frisks him. ¡°Not on him.¡± He nces at me and I nod permission. Bech produces his gun, shows it to Conners, holds it to his temple. ¡°Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen. We¡¯re going to that door. You¡¯re going to call her and tell her to open the door. All very normal. Nothing to upset her. If anything does upset her before the door opens, you¡¯ll be taking the high-speed short-cut to the ground floor. Understand?¡± Conners rolls eyes at me. ¡°Larry¡­¡± His voice chokes. ¡°I thought we were friends?¡± ¡°So did I. That must be why you tried to steal Mitch, eh?¡± He pales. Bech shifts, his voice low and silky. ¡°Only so many chances, Frankie. You going to do as you¡¯re told?¡± He pushes him away and along the corridor, the barrel still levelled towards him. Conners stands in front of the door. Bech, Malory and I stand to one side. Conners looks to me again, sweating. I raise brows and eye-point him back to the door. He taps, starts to speak. ¡°Mitch¡­¡± He swallows. ¡°Mitch. It¡¯s me. Open up.¡± The click of a peep-hole, the rattle of a door chain, the rasp of a lock¡­ The door opens. Bech jams in a foot, pushing hard and from beyond, there¡¯s a shriek of fear¡­ Mitch¡­ Scared¡­ My guts drops. Bech and Malory barrel in, pushing Conners ahead of them. As I follow in behind, Bech is on her, a hand at her throat, the guning up to her face. I roar. ¡°Get your fucking hands off her!¡± His face whips round to mine, fury written there, the whites showing all around his eyes. Then he subsides, pushing her away with the t of his palm on her chest. ¡°You handle Conners,¡± I say. ¡°Get him out of my sight. I¡¯ll deal with himter.¡± t-lipped, Bech jerks his chin to Malory. The two frog-march Conners, squealing all the way, to the door and out. Mitch stands, chest heaving, hair a-fly¡­ Her breathes in quick bursts and her pupils are dots. ¡°Don¡¯te near me.¡± She skitters back. ¡°Don¡¯t you daree near me. Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Pressed against the wall, she darts eyes this way and that¡­ Looking for a weapon? An escape? ¡°Mitch, I''m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.¡± Her chin lifts. ¡°And what about Frank? What about those girls I saw? Chained up. What happens to them?¡± Her lip curls. Disgust drips through her voice. ¡°You sell them to the highest bidder? Is that it?¡± My abs clench. I don¡¯t speak. She looks at me as though she¡¯d found a maggot in her food. ¡°Is that what you would have done with me once you''d got bored?¡± ¡°No. No. I would never¡­ Mitch it¡¯s different with you. You¡¯re different. And¡­ I¡¯m different when I¡¯m with you. You make everything¡­ better.¡± Believe me¡­ Please¡­ Believe me¡­ ¡°You had me fooled, Larry. You really had me going. When you left, I wasing to see you. To say yes. To say, I¡¯d give it a try. And then I saw them¡­¡± Disappointment ws at me¡­ So close¡­ ¡°Mitch, it was like that. But it¡¯s different now. I''m changing. You''ve changed me. I''ll change it all, everything; Blessingmoors, everything. You can help. I want you to help me.¡± ¡°Change what?¡± she hisses. ¡°Not sell your women? Your goods? What will you do? Let them go? Send them home, wherever they came from?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll set them free. Send them home. If that¡¯s what you want. If you¡¯ll stay with me.¡± She sucks, as though working up saliva. ¡°And your man there, that took Frank away... Bech was it? There¡¯s a murdering bastard if I ever saw one. Will he agree to all this? Just like that? All that profit down the bend?¡± ¡°Bech¡¯ll do as he''s told.¡± Her panting isn¡¯t quite so frantic. Her eyes are softening. ¡°Come with me, Mitch. Please. You know it¡¯s good between us. Be with me.¡± Her head raises. ¡°What about Frank?¡± You ran to him¡­ You chose him over me¡­ Some two-bit salesman... ¡°Come with me and I''ll let Frank go.¡± Anger shes across her face. ¡°That''s how it works with you, isn''t it? Coercion. Force. You have no concept of freedom to choose.¡± I step forward. She doesn¡¯t back away. Carefully, I reach, holding her at the shoulders. I drop my forehead to hers. ¡°I just want you to choose me. Choose to be with me. Please, Mitch.¡± But her voice is cold. ¡°I can''t be with you¡­ the man you are, Larry.¡± ¡°Mitch, please¡­¡± But she twists away from me, heading for the door. ¡°I¡¯m going now.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± ¡°Let me go!¡± There¡¯s a crash and shouting from somewhere out beyond the door. Then Bech¡¯s echoing voice. ¡°Get up the stairs after him¡­¡± This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. What the fuck¡­? I dash out, sprint back to the elevator. Bech is shouting up the stairwell. ¡°What the fuck happened?¡± ¡°We got him into the elevator; just about to head down. Bastard turned on us. Attacked Malory and got out the doors right at thest moment just as it was going down.¡± ¡°And you were doing what exactly? One ck-jawed salesman left this room with two supposed trained professionals in control, and he attacked you?¡± Bech nches, looking down, tension visible in his jaw. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about thister. Get after him. Find him¡­ Alive and undamaged.¡± Mitch¡­ I about face, head back to the room¡­ The door is closed¡­ Locked. Banging on the timber with the t of my hand, ¡°Mitch, open up. Mitch, open the fucking door.¡± From behind, something creaks, and a voice says, ¡°Can¡¯t you keep the damn noise down?¡± I turn to face a five-foot troglodyte wearing bunny slippers and an attitude. ¡°Go find something to do, grandma.¡± She res at me but retreats with the m of bolts being drawn home. I turn back. Nothing happens at the door, but something is going on in the room. The sound of banging echoes through, then a ng¡­ Then a series of splintering crashes¡­ Breaking ss? ¡­ and whimpering? I stand back and nt my boot squarely above the lock. It oomphs under my foot. A second kick and with the screech of shattered wood and tortured metal the door bangs open¡­ ¡­ just in time for me to see Mitch climbing through the window. In my dash to reach her, shattered ss crunches under my feet and I trip, almost falling over the heavy, cast-iron pan lying abandoned on the carpet. But I get there, reaching, trying to catch. My fingers graze her skin, her face, her neck, snagging on something which strains and pops to dangle from my fingers before she twists, swinging at me with something¡­ A second cast iron pot canons into my hand, crushing it against timber and broken ss. White pain erupts and for seconds I can do nothing but gasp for breath. Spots dancing behind my eyes, cursing, I mber out after her, seeing her already well below me, helter-skeltering down the fire escape. She sprints, descending, ttering down steel steps. I swivel, snatching for the handrail, but my fingers are slippery with blood streaming from sliced fingers and palm. Digging into a pocket I drag out a handkerchief, wrapping it around my streaming hand. ***** Chapter 46 Chapter 46 Mitch She descends the stairs as if the devil is behind her¡­ He is¡­ She risks a look up; the briefest of nces. She can¡¯t see him, but the ng of pursuit echoes above her. And she runs¡­ Down two stories, three. Almost to ground level¡­ and there¡­ As she hits tarmac¡­ a door close by¡­ An emergency exit swings open, a body erupting out of it¡­ Frank. He canons into her, grabbing her by the waist, swinging her around. ¡°Mitch¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t stop.¡± She jerks a head up to where Klempner rattles down the steps after her. ¡°Where¡¯s your car?¡± ¡°Basement, but the keys¡­¡± ¡°Got them. Move.¡± The pair swerve, u-turning back into the stairwell, barrelling downwards. From above, the sound of a mming door; echoing boots on concrete They burst into the parking lot. ¡°Where?¡± She peers into the low dark space. ¡°There.¡± He points, still running, snatching at her wrist, towing her along. From behind another crash from a swinging door. From off-side, Bech appears with Malory, both with guns in their hands. The pair dash from one grey concrete pir to another; stooping, running at a crouch, dodging between corridors of vehicles; vans, station wagons, saloons¡­ Then, a sports car; shiny, bright red and low¡­ A crack behind her. A whistle¡­ Mitch shrieks and drops as the bullet skids over the door of the two-seater, taking paintwork with it¡­ Klempner¡¯s voice, reverberating through the low space. ¡°Put the fucking gun down. Hurt her and I¡¯ll gut you.¡± ¡­ but she keeps moving¡­ Frank is ahead of her. For a moment he skids, foot sliding over a patch of oil. Slipping, he falls but catches himself on the handle of the nearest door, then, ¡°There¡­ Keys!¡± She tosses them across and twisting, he catches them one-handedly, pointing ahead to his own 4x4. Lights sh orange, beeping and the crunch of disengaging locks resound through the low-ceilinged space. She tumbles into the passenger seat. ¡°Stay down.¡± Frank engages and with the screech of tortured rubber, the car careens down the ranks of vehicles. Bech and Malory race behind, but Klempner cuts across, sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted against the daylight he stands, legs akimbo, arms outspread¡­ ¡°Mitch, no!¡± Frank¡¯s foot t on the gas, the car screams down the aisle, up the ramp, adding to the ck-burned stripes on the pitted concrete. mming his fist onto the horn, it shrieks defiance as the car rockets to the exit. At thest moment, Klempner hurls himself to one side as they smash through the barrier and out. Scrambling up off the tarmac, cursing, he runs after them, squinting into the sunshine but already the traffic has closed around his quarry. They¡¯re gone. Panting, Bech catches up with him, Malory wheezing behind. ¡°We can¡¯t let them go. I¡¯ll find them.¡± Klempner whirls, punching forward, directly into Bech¡¯s stomach. The man drops, grunting and clutching his gut. Klempnershes out with a foot, nting his boot in Bech¡¯s ribs. ¡°Use a gun near her again and it will be thest thing you do. Understand me? Hurt her and I¡¯ll finish you.¡± Curling in on himself, Bech hisses through his teeth, winded; no words, but he nods. ¡°Good. Next time it¡¯ll be more than my boot in your guts. Now get up and find them.¡± ***** Charlotte Francis¡¯ inte buzzes. ¡°Francis, it¡¯s Kirstie. I¡¯m trying to find Charlotte. Is she up there?¡± Francis starts to reply, but I interrupt her. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here, Kirstie.¡± ¡°I have someone down here for you. A Mr Maurio Vincenzo. He says he¡¯s from Vincenzo and Partners¡­¡± My Master cocks a questioning brow. ¡°Thewyers who handled my divorce.¡± What on earth could they want? ¡°Does he say what it¡¯s about, Kirstie?¡± ¡°Just that he needs to speak with you. Should I send him up?¡± ¡°Yes, of course.¡± My Master, frowning, ¡°You don¡¯t have anything outstanding from your divorce surely?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see how I could. And if there was anything, I¡¯m sure Chad would have mentioned it.¡± He sucks in his cheeks. ¡°Would you like me to sit in with you?¡± Trantion¡­ I want to sit in with you¡­ ¡°If you would like to, yes, of course.¡± The elevator doors Ssshhhh¡­ open and a man wearing a dark grey suit and a professional manner steps out. He nces around, then to me. ¡°Mrs Summerford?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± He steps forward, hand outstretched. ¡°Maurio Vincenzo. You dealt with my father when he handled your divorce.¡± I take the hand, shake it. ¡°Pleased to meet you. I¡¯m a bit baffled though. Surely everything to do with my divorce is¡­¡± He holds up a hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t to do with your divorce, but another matter entirely. Although it was your estranged husband who informed us where we could find you. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?¡± Francis pipes up. ¡°Richard has no appointments just now, Charlotte. The conference room is free all morning.¡± She gestures across. ¡°If you¡¯ll go through, Mr Vincenzo...¡± My Master follows us in, to the sidelong nce of thewyer. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say. Sitting down, ¡°First of all,¡± says Vincenzo, clicking open his briefcase, ¡°I mean no offence, but you and I have not met before and I must establish your identity. I understand you are currently known as ¡®Charlotte Summerford¡¯, but my father dealt with one ¡®Jennifer Conners¡¯. I have only Mr Bet¡¯s word that you are the same person. You can confirm that you are the woman once known as Jennifer Conners?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°And you can prove that?¡± ¡°If I need to. But why should I need to?¡± ¡°For now, could you please give me your signature as Jennifer Conners.¡± My Master sits, silently watching, a finger pressed to his lips as I sign my old and long-abandoned name. Thewyerpares it with some paper from his case, then looks up again, smiling, holding up the paper. ¡°Your original petition for divorce,¡± hements. ¡°And that¡¯s fine, Mrs Summerford. Now¡­¡± He takes out another document. ¡°As to why I am here. As I mentioned, my firm was contacted recently by your ex-husband, Charles Bet, to inform us that he had relocated you after he, and we, lost track of you for some years.¡± ¡°Right¡­ So?¡± ¡°So¡­¡± He holds up the document, punctuating his words with it. ¡°So, I hold here the will deposited with my firm by one Levi Kalkowski¡­¡± My stomach clutches and my Master stirs in his seat¡­ ¡°Mr Kalkowski¡­¡± Vincenzo looks over the rim of his spectacles at me¡­¡± Your old school-teacher I understand¡­¡± He hesitates. ¡°As you probably know, he died some years ago¡­?¡± My throat tightens. ¡°Yes, I knew that.¡± He exhales. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll admit I was worrying that I might be breaking bad news to you. However, putting it in a nutshell, Mr Kalkowski died without spouse or heirs. In short, he willed his estate to you.¡± My world stops. I should be pleased¡­ I think¡­ I¡¯m not sure¡­ My breathes in short gasps. My Master moves to take the seat beside me. He squeezes my hand. ¡°Charlotte?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m fine.¡± But my voice is wobbly, and moisture gathers at the corners of my eyes. He casts a sceptical eye over me then turns to thewyer. ¡°What does the estate consist of?¡± ¡°He wasn¡¯t a wealthy man; of modest means. But he used his resources intelligently. There is a little money, his houseplete with contents, some small investments. It adds up to a respectable sum.¡± Vincenzo pushes the document to me. ¡°You will find a summary here,¡± He steeples fingers as I read, not a word of the contents reaching my brain. ¡°It¡¯s as well,¡± hements, ¡°that Mr Bet contacted us when he did. It has been a number of years since your friend passed away. Had you not been found, eventually the property would have reverted to the state.¡± ***** Vincenzo leaves and I sit, trying to make sense of my thoughts. My Master sits by me, holding my hand in his. His voice soft. ¡°What will you do with it? The house?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve no idea. I hadn¡¯t got that far.¡± Belonging to N?velDrama.Org. He left it to me¡­ Of everyone there¡­ All the children he taught¡­ He left it to me¡­ ¡°Perhaps you should visit before you decide? You can have a look around. Go through the house. Perhaps find something to remember him by¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯d like that, yes. But the people there weren¡¯t exactly weing thest time I visited.¡± He hmmms¡­ Stands. Paces. ¡°You could ask Chad to go along too? Maybe clear things up for you.¡± ¡°Perhaps.¡± He sits again. Takes my hand again. Kisses the fingers. ¡°I¡¯d like toe too¡­¡± ¡°Of course, Master. I¡¯d assumed you would.¡± ¡°¡­ You see, among other things, I¡¯d like the chance to meet the original ¡®Charlotte¡¯¡­¡± Ooohhh¡­ Goddd¡­ My horse¡­ ***** Chapter 47 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, Harnd, 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 thest 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 t, mirror gaze to him. ¡°The memory was repressed?¡± ¡°Apparently.¡± Klempner has a stic 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 ne.¡± In restrained tones, ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡± His eyes dip to her cor bone. ¡°It suits you. As it did your mother.¡± Charlotte swallows andpses 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 ss. ¡°Don''t tempt me.¡± He coughs augh 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. She 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 lot of ces.¡± Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. He shrugs. ¡°You¡¯re right. I have. If you mean my original name. I left that behind when I was fourteen. Klempner works as well as anything else. Klempner will do.¡± ¡°And Larry?¡± His lids lower. ¡°That was what my mother called me.¡± ¡°Your mother?¡± ¡°Yes, I did have one you know.¡± She ignores the sarcasm. ¡°I wanted to ask you about her.¡± He taps a fingernail on the counter. ¡°What about her?¡± ¡°What was she like?¡± His stare would freeze a basilisk. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re¡­¡± She halts and 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 wondered what your mother was like. Did she let him do it?¡± Something ys around his eyes. ¡°No, she didn¡¯t.¡± Klempner¡¯s speaks quietly. He looks haunted¡­ ¡°Tell me about her.¡± ¡°I barely remember her.¡± ¡°Tell me what you do remember.¡± He swallows. ¡°Perhaps one day. But not now.¡± What going on? Charlotte props elbows on the counter. ¡°You said you killed your father. In self-defence.¡± ¡°Yes. He was a violent man. It was him or me.¡± ¡°He beat you?¡± ¡°Yes. He enjoyed it. Used his fists. When I was small, he used my mother as a punch-bag. Later, it was me.¡± He has her attention. As though painted into ce, Charlotte sits, frozen as he speaks. Klempner jerks his chin up. ¡°It¡¯s not a pleasant story. You sure you want to hear it?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He rocks his 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 he hit so long as he got something. I grabbed for whatever was to hand¡­¡± He takes a breath. ¡°It turned out to be a knife from the dinner te. Nothing special. Not a bread knife 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. It went between his ribs and he dropped like a sack.¡± Her chest rises and falls; rises and falls. ¡°Did you enjoy it?¡± she whispers. He sits, blinking for a moment, then, ¡°No. I was shocked; in pain from the beating he¡¯d already given me. I was scared. I panicked and I ran.¡± ¡°Where to?¡± He 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. Be a man.¡¯ But I was too young, and they¡¯d soon have identified me anyway. So, I kept going¡­¡± James interrupts. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have jailed you. Not for defending yourself. And you were a minor.¡± Klempner 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 die at my feet. I thought they¡¯d lock me up and throw away the key.¡± Charlotte¡¯s face goes ck¡­ Jenkins¡­ A mirror of what happened to her at the same age¡­ She thought she¡¯d killed him¡­ She ran¡­ And she kept running¡­ But Klempner is still speaking. ¡°I left the country. Worked my way on the cargo ships. There¡¯s destinations where they don¡¯t 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 that they do now. I ended up in Africa.¡± James unfolds his arms, leans forward. ¡°Which part of Africa?¡± ¡°I disembarked in Lagos, but I moved around a lot. Congo, Chad, Central African Republic¡­ you name it¡­¡± James sits back again. ¡°Those were dangerous ces to be. And dangerous times to be there.¡± ¡°So they were.¡± Klempner¡¯s voice isnguid, almost bored, but his gaze holds steady to James¡¯. Charlotte breaks in. ¡°What were you doing? Why did you stay?¡± James¡¯ eyes pass to her, then back to Klempner, ¡°Charlotte¡­¡± he murmurs. Klempner shrugs. ¡°There¡¯s always a war to be found in that part of the world.¡± Her face nks over for a moment, then refocuses. ¡°You were a mercenary?¡± ¡°I was. Yes.¡± ¡°Why? Why would you do something like that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a living.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s so dangerous.¡± His head tilts. ¡°Compared to what?¡± ¡°Compared to¡­.¡± She holds¡­ chewing her lip. Klempner leans forward, resting on folded arms. His voice is almost gentle. ¡°A piece of advice, for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation, make yourself part of what is dangerous about it.¡± Charlotte¡¯s mouth ps, 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 stay there?¡± ¡°I was on the run,¡± he says, a touch of asperity in his voice. ¡°On the run? But¡­ you can still only have been young then¡­ What, twenty?¡± ¡°Fifteen when I first arrived.¡± ¡°Fifteen? What¡¯s a fifteen-year-old doing as a mercenary?¡± ¡°Learning my trade. And remember where we¡¯re talking about. That part of the world has a long history of child soldiers. And a lot younger than I was. The only difference was that I volunteered and so they paid me a bit for it. Ater, a lot.¡± Charlotte digests that. ¡°So, what happened then?¡± ¡°I moved around a lot, making money where I could. Eventually, I found myself in Libya, Tripoli¡­¡± James Aaahhhs, face tilting to the ceiling. Klempner scowls at him. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°Tripoli. Centre of the Arab ve trade. That¡¯s how you¡­¡± Klempner rolls eyes. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s how it started. How I got involved. Technically it was illegal but in practice¡­¡± He plucks at an earlobe, gazing into nothing. ¡°They''re savages there¡­ The first time I realised what was happening was when a local merchant offered me one of his daughters. Take my pick. Twenty American dors. But he¡¯d have epted sterling. Or the mark.¡± Charlotte gapes. ¡°Twenty dors? To buy a woman?¡± ¡°Yes, twenty. And she wasn¡¯t a woman. She was about twelve I¡¯d say. Life''s cheap in that part of the world. Mainly he was interested in getting rid of her in a way that meant he didn¡¯t have to find a dowry for her.¡± In measured tones, James asks, ¡°Did you buy her?¡± ¡°No, Bech did.¡± James jolts. ¡°Bech? That¡¯s where you met him?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What was he doing there?¡± Klempner shrugs. ¡°No idea. Except that he was running from something too.¡± Dripping disgust, ¡°And he bought a twelve-year-old girl?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± James sucks in his cheeks. ¡°Was she willing?¡± Klempner inhales. ¡°Willing enough. I asked Bech about it afterwards. His words were that he¡­¡± His gaze shifts to Charlotte¡­ ¡°¡­ He didn''t have to p her around too much before she learned to behave.¡± I interrupt. ¡°Klempner. Why are you saying all this? So far as I¡¯m aware, the police, the social and the doctors never got this out of you. Why are you telling us?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not telling you. I¡¯m telling her.¡± He shes eyes to Charlotte. ¡°And what¡¯s brought about this change of heart?¡± ¡°What do you think?¡± ¡°Suddenly, because she¡¯s your daughter, you want to excuse yourself?¡± ¡°No.¡± His head drops, then lifts. ¡°No. But I do want to exin myself.¡± ¡°You were abused as a kid and so that exins everything?¡± James presses a forefinger to his lips. Klempner doesn¡¯t reply but doesn¡¯t meet his eye either. James continues, ice in his tone. ¡°You were mistreated as a child and so you think that excuses what you did to Charlotte; Jenny as you knew her. She had the upbringing from hell¡­¡± Klempner snaps, ¡°Hasn¡¯t done her much harm that I can see.¡± He swings back to Charlotte. ¡°Look at you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not scared of you,¡± she hisses. Weirdly, he grins. ¡°I know. No, you¡¯re not scared of me. And haven¡¯t been since you were old enough not to pee your pants.¡± The grin shrivels. ¡°And you should have been. I¡¯ve seen you in action. Ready to take on the world. Ready to fight for what you value.¡± He leans back, arms folded. ¡°My Jenny.¡± James freezes. ¡°She¡¯s not your anything¡­¡± Klempner pinches the bridge of his nose. ¡°I suppose.¡± Then his eyes rise, first to James then back to Charlotte. ¡°But what man wouldn¡¯t be proud to call you his daughter?¡± ***** Chapter 48 Chapter 48 I drive. James stretches out his bad leg in the passenger seat. ¡°Well, that was weird,¡± Iment. James grunts. In the rear mirror, Charlotte stares out of the window. ¡°You okay?¡± She keeps staring. Tonelessly, ¡°The same thing happened to him as to me. He was scared. He stabbed someone. He ran.¡± James swivels in his seat, stabbing a finger towards her. ¡°It is not the same, Charlotte. All aside from the detail that he was responsible for you being in that position, however bad a start to life you both had, you both had choices afterwards. You made choices that turned you into a strong admirable woman. He made choices that took him down the path of ver and multiple murderer. He could have turned from it at any point and he chose not to do so.¡± ***** Michael I tap on her office door. ¡°Hi, it¡¯s only me.¡± Charlotte looks up from her desk. ¡°Is it that time already?¡± ¡°Yup. Ready for home?¡± ¡°Sure. Let me just¡­¡± My mobile buzzes. It¡¯s Beth. Not like her to call me out of the blue¡­ ¡°Hi, Beth. What can I do for you?¡± ¡°Hi Michael. Um, could you spare me some time?¡± Oh, God¡­ Not more bloody papers¡­ ¡°Of course, Beth. When did you have in mind? I''m free tomorrow afternoon if that...¡± ¡°No, I mean right now, Michael. Right now. Can youe? I¡¯m upstairs with James.¡± She pauses and her voice lowers. ¡°Are you with Charlotte?¡± Something in Beth¡¯s tone prates. I slip a nce, but Charlotte¡¯s upied with something on her laptop, not listening. ¡°Ah-ha.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say anything to her. Juste up yourself.¡± ¡°Sure. I''m on my way.¡± I tap off my phone then, ¡°Um, Beth¡¯s got something she wants me to look at. I think it might be more of those damn papers from her uncle. Can you keep yourself busy for a few minutes?¡± She shes teeth at me, eyes dancing. ¡°What, more of them? Course I can. Give me a buzz when you¡¯re done, and I¡¯lle up.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± I kiss her forehead, squeeze her arm, then head for the elevator. ***** James and Richard are both there, wearing identical expressions. Arms folded, eyes narrowed, silent. And there, sitting by Beth, is David, the younger of Mitch¡¯s two brothers¡­ Charlotte¡¯s uncle¡­ And they wouldn¡¯t acknowledge her¡­ Barely even registered her existence¡­ Because of her mother¡­ When I left their house that time, I could have cheerfully punched the pair of them, and it must show on my face. David stands awkwardly. ¡°Mr Summerford¡­ Michael¡­ May I call you Michael?¡± ¡°That depends on why you¡¯re here.¡± Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. He nods, equally awkwardly, and seats himself again. ¡°First,¡± he says, ¡°please don''t tell anyone else in the family I''m here. Especially Stephen. My life wouldn''t be worth living.¡± I don¡¯t sit. I see no reason to wee this man who rejected my wife for events that had nothing to do with her. So, still standing, ¡°As you wish. Why are you here? Is there something you would like to tell me?¡± He doesn¡¯t meet my eye. ¡°Yes, I couldn¡¯t speak with Stephen there that time and¡­¡± ¡°You could have phoned me any time since then. I left my contact details.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand¡­ Stephen¡­ He¡¯s inflexible. Always has been. And he¡¯s gotten more so with age¡­ He wants to control everything. The first thing he did was pocket your card. And¡­¡± ¡°Mr Kimberley, what have youe to say?¡± ¡°Shelley called me.¡± ¡°Shelley? Charlotte¡¯s mother¡­¡± I look around the room. Beth and Richard sit in rigid silence. James¡¯ eyes, all but ck, bore into David. ¡°¡­ When?¡± ¡°Several times over the years. At first when she wanted toe back home. She said she was frightened by something. Stephen wouldn¡¯t even consider her returning. But she still rang from time to time. Stephen always hung up on her and she called less as time went on. Eventually, she stopped altogether.¡± ¡°And thest time?¡± ¡°About five years ago.¡± ¡°Five years? She was alive and well five years ago?¡± ¡°She was alive, yes.¡± David scrapes a hand through his hair. ¡°As for well¡­ I don¡¯t know. She never talked for long, and she¡­ she never sounded happy. Look¡­ I''m sorry about Stephen. He means well, he really does, but he''s stubborn. And he always believes he knows best.¡± He draws a deep lungful. ¡°You know how it is with brothers¡­¡± I huff. ¡°Tell me about it. Maybe your brother and mine should move in together. They¡¯d live happily ever after.¡± James snorts. Richard stands, fetches a bottle from a cupboard and pours an amber finger into each of four sses, then with a questioning eye, tilts the bottle to Beth. ¡°Yes, I think I will.¡± He passes the sses around then, with a meaningful look to me, says, ¡°So, David, tell us what happened.¡± David holds his ss but doesn¡¯t drink. ¡°When Mom left, Stephen took over as head of the family. As a kid, he always meant well by Shelley. But he was over-protective. Wouldn''t let her do the things teenage girls do. Wouldn''t let her go out. Wanted to pick and choose her friends. Controlled what she was allowed to wear. Always kept her on a short leash.¡± He knocks back half his drink in one gulp. James leans back in his seat. ¡°It sounds stifling.¡± ¡°It was. In the end, she simply up and left.¡± ¡°How old was she then?¡± ¡°Fifteen.¡± James sucks in a whistle. I butt in. ¡°And that¡¯s Stephen¡¯s gripe with her? That she left? Went her own way?¡± David¡¯s face ckens. He finishes his drink. Richard tips more into the ss. ¡°Partly,¡± he says at length. ¡°It was also the way she left. She stole from us. Took money. She repaid it afterwards but by then Stephen had already made up his mind. And thenter¡­¡± He falters. ¡°David,¡± says James quietly. ¡°We know how Shelley earned her living. It doesn¡¯t matter to us. She is Charlotte¡¯s mother and that¡¯s the only thing we care about.¡± David nods, letting out a sigh. ¡°Yes¡­ But Stephen didn¡¯t see it that way. When he found out¡­ It was Dad¡¯s wedding. Stephen saw her with some man and that finished her chances with him.¡± He scrubs a hand over his face. ¡°She was a young girl at the time, and everyone makes mistakes. But it was her choice to do it and that¡¯s all Stephen could see. Said she wasn''t his sister anymore and forbade her name to be mentioned. Andter, Delia¡­ um¡­ Dad¡¯s second wife¡­ backed him up.¡± He grimaces. ¡°Personally, I think the bitch didn''t want anypetition out there for her own daughter.¡± He stares into the distance, looking morose, then abruptly, he meets my eye. ¡°As I said, thest I heard from her was five years ago.¡± He thrusts a piece of paper at me. ¡°This is the address she gave me. If she¡¯s there, give her my love and tell her she¡¯s not forgotten. But for pity¡¯s sake, please don¡¯t let Stephen know I¡¯ve done this.¡± ***** Chapter 49 Chapter 49 Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago She¡¯s gone. What now? I stare out of the window of the apartment I bought for her, overlooking the harbour with its yachts and pleasure boats, ice-cream kiosks and artsy-craftsy shops. Sunshine glints outside on the water, gleams on fresh paint, blue and white, and on polished timber decks, then spills into the room. But there¡¯s no warmth in it. Tugging my jacket around me, I hiss as pain stabs through my hand. Gashed flesh swollen and heated, seeps blood. I should dress it¡­ ¡­ Later¡­ I thought I had it. I thought I had her. I really did. ¡­ ¡­ It¡¯s so cold. Walking through to the kitchen, I limp a little where my ankle twisted as I fell¡­ Would he really have run me down? ¡­ then clumsily, working with one hand, I make coffee, sshing in a hefty measure of whiskey, then more until the cup teeters on overflowing. This content is ? N?velDrama.Org. You had me fooled, Larry. You really had me going. When you left, I wasing to see you¡­ and then I saw them¡­ Returning with the drink to stand in the scant heat of the sunshine, I watch holidaymakers and tourists going about their moronic activities. Hot alcohol and caffeine sear a trail down my throat but still, there¡¯s no warmth inside me. She wasing to see me¡­ Coming to say she¡¯d be with me¡­ Shivering, I drain the dregs. Bitter as bile, churning and toxic, regret wells up inside me¡­ Enfolds me in its harsh embrace¡­ Overwhelms me¡­ There¡¯s not enough air. Pain draws a band around my chest, tighter; ever tighter. Dropping to my knees, I cover my face. Hide from the world¡­ Is this all there is? Hide from myself¡­ She ran to him¡­ From me and to him¡­ Conners... Inside, something flickers; a me fanning up to burn hot and bright and toxic¡­ ¡­ Lighting the darkness. The pain eases and I can breathe again. Inhaling, I draw one deep lungful after another, sucking at the air until my head clears and I''m able to stand. Using the window ledge to support myself, I pull myself upright again, plunging hands white with cold into my pockets¡­ ¡­where something brushes against them; small, cold and metallic. ? Fingers stiff and swollen, I pull out the strange object. A butterfly dangles from its chain, twinkling silver as it spins in the sunlight. How¡­? ? ? My fingers grazing her skin¡­ snagging on something which strains and pops to dangle from my fingers¡­ ¡­ blood streaming from sliced fingers and palm. Digging into a pocket¡­ She was wearing it. His gift¡­ Rage boils inside me. Fists clenching, the painnces through me, waking me, making me feel alive again. Conners. ***** James David leaves. Michael considers the slip of paper in his hand. Richard and Beth sit in silence, listening loudly. ¡°So¡­ what do we tell Charlotte?¡± I say. ¡°Nothing.¡± Michael stuffs the paper into a pocket. ¡°I¡¯m going to drive across there tomorrow and see what the area looks like. I don¡¯t want a repeat ofst time; going all the way there to find nothing but a car park and a supermarket. It would break her heart.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not nning on knocking on the door?¡± ¡°No, that wouldn¡¯t be right. But I want to check at least that there¡¯s a door to knock on.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± ***** Michael A ssic city edge¡­ I check the address. Written in a careful hand, printed capitals, it is quite clear. This is the house. And it looks upied. No lights are on and there is no sign of movement, but paintwork is fresh and clean; floral curtains drape inside, the door-knocker is of brightly polished brass. Yes, I can bring her here. ***** Charlotte My Master and Michael get out of the car with me. Michael leans back against the vehicle, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle. My Master paces up and down a little, then settles, watching as I approach the door. There¡¯s a light on at a downstairs window; movement inside, shapes silhouetted against lights. Suddenly timid, I can¡¯t summon up the will to move. My feet drag. My heart flutters and my lungs are tight. Enough already¡­ Taking the knocker in one hand, I rap smartly on the door. It rat-tats, echoing through the space beyond. What if she answers? Will I recognise her? Will she know who I am? There¡¯s a shuffle, the click of a turning lock, the clunk of a bolt being drawn back, then the door opens¡­ ¡­ to a man¡¯s face. A young man, perhaps thirty. He¡¯s good-looking in an unremarkable way, but quite unfamiliar. ¡°Um, I was looking for Michelle? Is she in?¡± ¡°Sorry, no Michelle here. You¡¯ve got the wrong ce.¡± He turns, closing the door as he does so. I move quickly, shoving my foot in, my hand on the timber. ¡°Er, sorry to be a nuisance, but I was given this address. Can I ask how long you¡¯ve lived here? Perhaps the people before you?¡± ¡°Only been here six months. And I don¡¯t think there was a Michelle in thest lot. They¡¯re rentals most of these¡­¡± He thumbs up and down the street¡­ ¡°Peoplee and go, y¡¯know¡­¡± ¡°Oh, right. Thank you.¡± He nods and closes the door¡­ ***** James Shit! Her head hangs¡­ Jade¡­ As one, Michael and I stride across. Arms outstretched, Michael is speaking before we reach her¡­ ¡°Charlotte¡­¡± ¡­ when a voice interrupts. ¡°Shelley? Long time. No see. How lovely to run into you.¡± Charlotte whirls so fast her hair swings around her, settling in a cloud over her shoulders. ¡°Shelley?¡± The speaker is an old woman, stooped at the shoulders, dressed in purple that doesn¡¯t suit her, pottering along towards us with an ancient shopping trolley. The bag is saggy, and one wheel is uneven, so it rises and falls as she pushes. Nheless, it looks to be keeping her standing. ¡°Shelley¡­Oh, you do look well. Have you been on holiday?¡± Then as she gets closer, she peers up into Charlotte¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, I am sorry, sweetheart. I thought you were someone else. But y¡¯know, you¡¯re the spit ¡®n image¡­¡± ¡°Shelley?¡± repeats Charlotte. ¡°Shelley? Michelle Conners? You know her?¡± ¡°Michelle, yes. I know her, though I dunno about ¡®Conners¡¯.¡± Remarried? Charlotte¡¯s voice is rising by the moment. Michaelys a hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Michael is naturally charming. It¡¯s one of his strengths and is part of the reason he¡¯s almost universally liked. But it¡¯s not often I see him deliberately turning up the appeal. As I watch, a smile blooms over already handsome features. He drops a hand to her shoulder and turns on the full beam of his charisma. Blue eyes, white teeth and blond hair swing dazzling onto an old lass who¡¯s probably not seen the like of it focussed her way for fifty years. In that moment, I see not only the olddy she is now, and the young woman she once was, but also, the girl, that in her head, she still is. ¡°Perhaps you can help us,¡± he says. ¡°My wife here is trying to find Michelle. You know her you say?¡± The wrinkled old face, rheumy-eyed, red-threaded, beams up at Michael as though Redford had ridden in from Hollywood on a white stallion. ¡°Yes, I know her. We wuz good friends. But I¡¯ve not seen her for a while. She moved from here¡­¡± She waves at the closed door¡­. ¡°Ooohhh¡­. ages ago, maybe three or four years back¡­¡± Charlotte¡¯s face crumples¡­. ¡°¡­Yes¡­ She moved to Cosby Street, three blocks down.¡± Charlotte¡¯s head jerks up. ¡°And she lives there now?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. Number thirty-seven.¡± ***** Chapter 50 Chapter 50 Michael It¡¯s an ordinary house, as average as theye; one small property in a block of near-identical brick- built terraces. The paint is fresh, but not too fresh. And the door, fronting directly to the road, looks well- used. But the windows are clean; no litter fouls the frontage¡­ And there is a light on inside¡­ Charlotte sits in the car, inert. Her face is a pale sheen and, as I take her fingers in mine, her hand is cold. I lift the fingers, press them to my lips. ¡°This is it, then.¡± She nods but doesn¡¯t move. ¡°Suppose she doesn¡¯t want to see me?¡± She¡¯s gasping for air¡­ Panic attack? ¡°¡­ She abandoned me all those years ago. Suppose she just didn¡¯t want me?¡± ¡°Why would she not want you?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m his.¡± James speaks. ¡°There are plenty of mothers whose children have unworthy fathers, but they still love them.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this, Charlotte,¡± I say, ¡°but if you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll never be happy. Whatever happens, good or bad, at least you¡¯ll know. Your life can move on.¡± A figure moves past the window. Partially silhouetted against the light inside, nheless, there is the impression of a pale face, a red tint to the hair. Charlotte straightens up, muttering. ¡°Right¡­ I¡¯m okay. Let¡¯s do this.¡± Without looking back, she steps out of the car and crosses the road. I wind the window down. ¡°Got any tissues in the car?¡± murmurs James. ¡°Course I have.¡± ***** Charlotte I stand in front of the door, suddenly timid again. My heart pounds so hard there¡¯re touches of ck at the edge of my vision. Chill out¡­ Calm down¡­ *Deep breath* *Roll neck and shoulders* My chest loosens and my breath flows a little more easily. Good to go¡­ My finger hovers over the brass-button bell, then presses. A Bing-Bong echoes from somewhere beyond. And almost immediately, there is a hollow rumble of movement, the bang of a door, the rattle of the handle turning. The door opens. She¡¯s there. Her face is pale and tired. Lines radiate from the corners of her eyes. Her mouth is down-turned at the corners. Silver threads through amber hair. But her green eyes - I know them. I see them every day in the mirror. I start to speak but find I can''t. Sucking for saliva, I try again. ¡°Hello. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m Jenny.¡± Like a statue she stares at me, her eyes running up and down me. Reaching out, she touches my face, her eyes widening, her mouth opening. She¡¯s trying to speak, her lips making words that don¡¯te out. Then¡­ ¡°Jenny?¡± The words turn into a shriek. ¡°Jenny!¡± And she flings herself at me, throwing her arms around me. ¡°You¡¯re alive. Oh, God. It¡¯s you. You¡¯re alive. You¡¯re alive!¡± And she¡¯sughing and crying and so am I. And she holds me tight, then stands back to look at me, then pulls me close again¡­ ***** James Michael reaches under the dash and pulls out a box of tissues, then a rucksack, slinging it over his shoulder. ¡°Why d¡¯you reckon women cry when they¡¯re happy?¡± ¡°Beats me.¡± We both get out of the car, standing to lean against it. Eyes creasing, Michael is holding in a smile, the tissue box cradled in one hand. Bound to want ¡®em soon¡­ Charlotte and her mother are flooding tears, babbling incoherently at each other. Up and down the street, curious faces are swinging their way. Jade¡­ My Jade¡­ Finally finding your dreams¡­ The two women pause, I think to grab air. Charlotte looks my way, swiping the back of her hand under her nose and Michael waves the tissues at her. She nods as he walks across, offering the box. Her mother¡¯s eyes¡­ Green¡­ Belonging to N?velDrama.Org. So familiar¡­ ¡­ follow him, then return to me. ¡°Um, this is Michael¡­ my husband¡­ Mom¡­¡± Charlotte whispers the final word and Mitch shudders a breath. ¡°Come in,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯d bettere inside.¡± She motions across to me. ¡°Your friend too.¡± I stride across, hand offered. ¡°James Alexanders. I¡¯m a family friend. And I am delighted to meet you at last.¡± ***** We gather in the tiny lounge. Shabby with age, but immacte; dingy but dust-free, it looks like cheap rentals everywhere. The same tired furniture. The same dismal wallpaper. I¡¯ve stayed in a few like it myself in my time; after my divorce, when money was tight, and home was wherever I hung my hat. Charlotte¡¯s mother serves coffee. It¡¯s cheap supermarket instant, tasting mainly of chicory and it rattles down my throat kicking and punching as it goes. But I drink the dreadful brew anyway. To my side, Michael looks down at his cup, then knocks it back in one gulp¡­ Get it over with¡­ Mitch says, ¡°Would you like another?¡± ¡°Actually¡­¡± He beams that ¡®win-¡®em-over¡¯ smile of his, holding up his rucksack. ¡°I have something better. ¡°Champagne. Thought I¡¯d keep it back ¡®til I was sure we¡¯d need it.¡± Charlotte turns shining eyes on him, albeit eyes shining red and still streaming. ¡°Thank you.¡± He leans, kisses her cheek. ¡°Congrattions. I¡¯m so happy for you, Babe.¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes follow him¡­ Not just a daughter regained¡­ But a son-inw¡­ If I was a woman¡­ Meeting my new son¡­ And it was Michael¡­ He pours champagne into disposal stic flutes, handing them around, then sits back, an ankle resting up on one knee. Mitch epts the flute with a ¡®Thank you¡¯. Tall¡­ Handsome¡­ Devastatingly charming¡­ ¡­ I¡¯d be pretty pleased about it¡­ I raise my ss. ¡°To Family...¡± The others follow suit. ¡°Family.¡± ¡°¡­ and Mitch¡­ may I call you Mitch?¡± She nods, blinking. ¡°Mitch, Michael and I both know how much this means to Char¡­ to Jenny. She¡¯s been searching for you for years¡­¡± I¡¯m set to ramble on, but Michael jabs an elbow in my ribs¡­ As good a hint as any¡­ And I shut up. Charlotte and her mother sit side by side, holding hands, sipping champagne. Neither seems to know what to say. Where to begin¡­? I take the chance to study Mitch. So much like my Jade-Eyes. The same Celtic-pale skin, the fine features, the same red-gold hair, the same hypnotically green eyes. But the differences show. The age difference of course; silver winds through the copper of her hair. The eyes are tired, and the creases at the corners are crow¡¯s-feet rather thanughter lines. Her mouth turns down¡­ Surreptitiously I survey the dismal little room. A hard life¡­ Less than you deserved¡­ And as I look closer again, hiding my examination behind my flute¡­ Is that a bruise? Perhaps it is just the poor light casting on her cheekbones, Mitch finally speaks. ¡°How did you find me?¡± Charlotte¡¯s fingers curl tighter around her ss. ¡°David gave us your address. Well¡­ he gave Michael your address; the old one a few streets away.¡± Mitch jolts, giving Michael a startled nce. ¡°He did? I''m surprised Stephen let him.¡± Charlotte¡¯s voice trembles. ¡°Stephen didn¡¯t. David visited us. Stephen didn¡¯t know. He¡­¡± Her words crack. ¡°Stephen won¡¯t have anything to do with me. But Michael¡­ He''s worked so hard trying to find you. He found your marriage certificate to¡­ to Frank. And he found my birth certificate¡­¡± Mitch''s eyes lift to hers. ¡°It''s alright.¡± Charlotte¡¯s voice is tight. ¡°I already know that Frank wasn''t my father¡­¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes widen, her breath escaping in a slow exhtion¡­ ¡°¡­ But¡­ But¡­¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes flood again¡­ ¡°Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me there? At Blessingmoors. With him?¡± Mitch thunders upright from her seat. Face reddening, her mouth twists. ¡°I did not leave you. I would never have left you¡­¡± ¡°I thought you must have abandoned me¡­¡± ¡°No.¡± She swings on Charlotte, eyes glossy. ¡°I left because¡­¡± Her voice hushes¡­ ¡°¡­ because you were dead.¡± Mitch presses fingers to her forehead. ¡°You were dead. He told me that. How can you be alive? How?¡± ¡°Who told you?¡± I ask. ¡°Klempner said that? He told you your baby had died?¡± ¡°No, not Larry.¡± Hands pressed to her cheeks, Mitch swings her face to one side then the other. ¡°It was Frank. He said you were dead, that he''d seen Larry murder you.¡± The bang of a door closing echoes through the room, then boots on linoleuming closer. Mitch whirls to the door. ¡°He¡¯ll tell us.¡± ¡°He?¡± The door opens and a figure steps into the lounge. Not overly-tall although perhaps once beefily built; muscle has run to fat and the paunch is matched by the jowls. The face is red-threaded with veins, and the eyes are bloodshot. As he steps inside, ¡°Look who¡¯s here,¡± Mitch announces. ¡°Can you believe it?¡± Her smile is wide and white and bright. ¡°It¡¯s Jenny. Jenny¡¯s alive.¡± The man looks, gapes then scowls. I¡¯ve seen the face before, albeit much younger then, on the photo Michael found in the files. Frank Conners. ***** The Story Continues In ¡®Her Mother¡¯s Love¡¯ The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!