JamesCharlotte's with Beth and Richard in the lounge. I don't want her to see me like this. And with Georgie sleeping upstairs, it's awkward. I don't know what to say to her.So I don't try. Instead, I head for the kitchen where I can be alone. Splashing water over my face, I try to pretend that it's the soap making my eyes sting. Then I sit at the table, nursing a whiskey. Georgie...Stannis standing over her, unbuckling his belt... Sneering... Enjoying her fear... Her tears..."Oh, God... No... Please... You want money? My father... He's rich. He'll pay..."Of course I'd have fucking paid...My mind is churning. My gut clenching. I knock back the whiskey but I'm not truly enjoying it. My throat burns but there's no heat inside me.Still... Sliding the bottle across the table, I pour another inch into the tumbler.The door from the back whines open, admitting a cold draught, Michael and Klempner. Both look a little wary as they see me there.Klempner hovers,
... and in the dead hours of the night, I wake again.I'm not sure how long I've slept, but my sleep was deep and dreamless and has served its purpose. I'm, if not exactly rested, at least no longer exhausted. My head has cleared.Beside me, Mitch lies, a silhouette against the glimmer-dark, her breathing soft and even. Somehow in the night, we've exchanged positions and now I'm spooned up against her and...Ahhh...... now I know what woke me......... my hardness presses against her spine.Would she mind?From behind, I nuzzle close, nibbling into the crook of shoulder and neck, inhaling her aroma, revelling in the sense of peace I have simply from being here.Mitch stirs and I pause, then when she lies still once more, I continue mouthing my way over her shoulders.But although she's still, her breathing has changed, deepening, becoming louder. "I thought you were tired?" It could sound grouchy, but humour smiles from her words."So did I." I press my groin a lit
It's an old house, not too far from what's left of Finchby's old premises. It rises above me: a gable-end property of a block of maybe a dozen tall, terraced townhouses; four forlorn storeys plus attic of brown-brick memorial to a lifestyle that's passed on. No-one wants them now, certainly not here, in this area.God knows there's enough of these old places, here around the tired end of the City. Some are converted into cheap apartments, but most stand empty, long unloved, often derelict, sometimes downright dangerous.And if I'm not mistaken, these are marked by James and Haswell for demolition in plans they brought forward after the debacle with Finchby.Many in the block, this one included, are bricked up, I assume against squatters. Their windows blind, concrete blocks are cemented into the stone mullions. The front door too is blocked up, now just a canvas for spray paint and graffiti. I didn't pop a sledgehammer or angle grinder in my pocket as I left, so I'll not be en
It's a miserable grey excuse for illumination, spilling through a barred slot of a window. Not dawn. Just the paling of the sky as the moon rises. Still, it's an improvement.The first landing comes out, more or less as I expected, onto the first storey of the house, at the far end of the corridor I first saw. Strictly a servants' entrance, the door is set into the wall, disguised as panelling, so the Great And The Good didn't have to acknowledge the little invisibles who served them. As I press it open, laminate breaks away from the plaster backing, dropping as dust and splinters to the floor.I've seen what I need to. I pull the door back again, leaving it only partly closed to give me a little more light.The next two floors are much the same. I'm not interested. Gun at the ready, I keep moving.Once more, I climb a narrow stairway. And once more, I find myself in an attic space.Silver moonbeams slit down through a tiny skylight, only the size of a couple of the slates. T
Without meaning to, I turn my head aside, blinking away the burn on my retina. Lights glare out of the darkness, a line of four spots, like a cheap remake of Close Encounters, although I suspect the occupants of the glare are more like the bad guys from Alien.Play the game..."Baxter?"The darkness shifts and there's that sound again...And this time, I get it.A giggle...Hardly a sound Baxter would make.A female sound...I've never cared for giggling women, but that's just me. Always before, it's been simple irritation on my part. This sound sets the hairs prickling up my neck and my pulse yammering...... and it occurs to me that the Bad Guy in Alien was in fact, a Bad Gal... a Queen...It's a mad sound. An insane sound. It's the sound heard in every children's fairy tale since Hansel and Gretel pushed the witch into that oven. It's a sound that monsters make.Moving slowly, sucking some saliva back into my mouth, I reach for my Glock. Perhaps I'll have somet
KlempnerTurning the handle slowly, I push open the door at arm's length, to see... Baxter.But it's not Baxter as I know him.Knew him.His stance is strange: standing against one wall but in a semi-crouch. And his body is twisted, as though he's supporting himself lopsidedly. His hands are behind his back and his expression is... agonised.As he sees me, he moves, then screams. Holding his unnatural stance, "Oh, God. It's you. Larry... Help me." What the fuck?He's weeping the words. "For God's sake, help me. Please. I'm sorry." He keeps repeating himself, his voice racked. "Help me..."Glock in hand, I keep him covered, glancing right and left for anyone else. There's a door off to the right, two off to the left. "Help? You?" Still I don't approach any more closely. "Baxter, what's going on?""My... hands... Larry, please. Behind me..."He does genuinely seem to be in some kind of pain. Muzzle still aimed, I move a little closer, but no more so than strictly nec
KlempnerMy phone...Quickly, I power down, remove the SIM, snap it in two, then four, and drop plastic-and-metal shards in my pocket. Julia's hammer serves a useful purpose smashing the phone itself, but that's hardly enough.A quick search of the kitchenette produces a roll of aluminium foil. Several layers wrapped around produce an effective Faraday cage and make the phone effectively invisible.And now, I need to hole up for a few days. Get out of sight. And... I need to make a call.A cheap hotel. Somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere with internet. Somewhere they don't pay the staff too much.Out on the street, a morning north-easterly whistles around me, nipping at face and fingers. My stomach growls and belatedly, I realise I'm hungry.The aroma of the food of the gods wafts by and I follow my nose to a street-vendor. Swathed in layers of woollens and with a scarf pulled over his face to the nose, he could come from some Dickensian image of London. But his stall cons
JamesI tap and my daughter's voice replies. "Come in. It's open."Pressing the handle down with an elbow, I nudge the door open with the tray. "Good morning," I say, injecting into my voice as much cheerfulness as I know how. "Breakfast. I thought we might eat together."Georgie smiles from her seat at the dresser where, looking fresh and a little pink from the shower, she is brushing out her long hair. Born in my physical image, her hair as dark as mine: at least, as dark as mine used to be.Trying not to be obvious about it, I look her over.Still pale...... but the dark rings under her eyes are fading..."Hi, Dad. Yes, I'd love to have breakfast with you." She's smiling, but her voice is subdued."I brought croissants and coffee. Keep it light. I thought we might have lunch together later? I reserved a table for us by the picture window in the restaurant downstairs.""Lunch? Yes, that would be great..." That not-quite-a-smile again.Masking something... "How
It's cold outside, but Klempner sits on the low terrace wall wearing no more than a thin pullover."Want one of these?" I proffer a coffee, heavily laced with whiskey, topped with thick cream.He startles, but then, "Thank you, James." He doesn't smile. His eyes are soft with melancholy as he stares down, watching October mist curling over the lake."Will you visit the grave?""Yes." The single word isn't followed by any others."When will you go?""Sooner rather than later." He breathes steam and fragrant alcohol. "I'm making arrangements now. The Canadian winter arrives early and in force. It'll be under six feet of snow there very soon, and for the next several months.""Would you mind some company?"He twists to face me. "You want to come?""I'd like to pay my respects to the brave woman for whom my daughter is named."He blinks, nodding as he casts his gaze down. "Thank you, James. I appreciate that.""Charlotte wants to go as well."And now he smiles. I
JamesFamily...All gathered together around the breakfast table: Michael to the left of Charlotte, I'm to her right, bouncing Cara on my knee while Charlotte takes a break to get some food down her throat. Beyond Michael, Beth feeds Adam, Richard flanking them.Klempner and Mitch sit side by side. She's turned discreetly away, feeding Vicky. Larry watches, still wearing that slightly spaced-out expression...Man-in-shock?For all the right reasons...Charlotte is very quiet. She eats, but her gaze sweeps the table and back again.Once she had nothing...Briefly, her eyes lock with her father's. He cocks his head, eyes full of question, but then her gaze moves on.What's he thinking?It's not hard to figure. Right from the time Klempner arrived back with us, although he's clearly content to be here, he's had an air of... waiting...The Rat-Tat! of the front door rattles down the hall.Michael pushes his chair back. "I'll go." A half-eaten slice of toast in one h
RichardMy intercom buzzes. "Yes, Francis?""I have the police commissioner on for you, Mr Haswell. He... doesn't sound very happy."I can guess what this is going to be about. I've been waiting for it. "Thanks for the warning, Francis. Put him through please..." The line clicks and reconnects. "Richard?""Good morning, Will. What can I do for you?""I think you can guess why I'm calling you. I'm hearing rumours I don't like. Disturbing rumours.""I believe, Will, that I know which rumours you mean. I've been wanting to discuss them with you. Perhaps you would like to meet for lunch to discuss the matter? Somewhere quiet? ""And away from the office? Yes, I think so."*****The waiter sets a plate in front of each of us, steak in pepper sauce for Will, a prawn souffle for me. He tops up the glasses of Cabernet. "Is there anything else, sir?""No, thank you. That's perfect." I wait until he is out of earshot before I speak. "So, Will...These disturbing rumours?
KlempnerThe view is restful. Living in Mitch's small apartment, hidden away from the world, does...... I suppose...... constitute 'domestic bliss'. But that's at night. For much of the day, we spend our time in the main family home of Jenny's Triad. The women chatter and gossip. The men alternate between business and banter. One or other of the babies always needs attention...It's exhausting.But when it comes to it, that's not the root of my problem.Retreating from noise and activity and 'family-fun' to the sanctuary of the terrace, I let the view wash away the anxiety gnawing at the back of my mind.It's always the waiting...Give me action and some lunatic with a gun every time...Stay calm...Mist curls over the lake far below. On the slopes close by, every blade of grass is etched with a rime of frost that will thaw to dew when the sun crests the mountain. Further down, the individual blades meld into a smooth sheet of silver that merge into haze and wa
Two coffeepots later, we've run out of croissants and moved onto toasted muffins. James slices one in two, dropping the halves into the toaster. He pauses, "Another one, Beth?"She's sitting up against the headboard, next to Charlotte, the two propped up against each other, eating from a shared plate. Beth slathers butter and blackberry jam onto what she has. "Thanks, but I'm fine with this, James. I'll not eat again 'til suppertime.""Charlotte?""Mmmm..." She nods, mumbling through a mouthful, wiping a smear of melted butter from the corner of her mouth. She swallows, then holds up half a muffin - minus two bites. "What is it about muffins and bad weather? I always want more of them."James rolls a look at her, then to me, shaking his head...A wise man says nothing...Richard sucks jam from his fingers, lips smacking. "On a complete change of subject... Elizabeth and I were talking..." Beth falls still, her shoulders slumping... "... Please don't take this the wrong way,
MichaelIt's dark...What woke me?Somewhere down and beside me, the sound of whining. "Scruffy? You need to go out, boy?"At this hour?What the hell time is it?I'm snug and comfortable, draped with a thick duvet. Charlotte, warm and fragrant, sleeps tucked in beside me. Through the curtains, it's pitch-black.Scruffy whines again, this time scratching at the bed.Wonder if he's eaten something he shouldn't?Stretching an arm blindly out beyond the cosy comfort of the blankets, I pat across the side-table, hunting for the light switch. When I find it, as it turns out, it's not Scruffy's habit of eating every bit of rubbish he comes across that is at fault. The clock tells me it's half past seven and my rag-tag mongrel is making a perfectly reasonable request to be let out to relieve the pressures of the night.But outside, there's no sign of daylight and, joys of joys, rain lashes against the window.Goodbye to summer...Scruffy's whining ups by half an octave
JamesAn orderly tries to block the way, arms outstretched in front of the door. "Sir, you can't..."Klempner simply brushes by him.From beyond, Mitch's voice. "Let him in..."The orderly spins, mouth open. "What? All of them?""Yes!!!! Ah... Fuccckkkk...."The monk's feet skid uselessly over the polished floor as he tries to resist his inexorable forward journey into the delivery room. His voice rises to a wail. "But I'm not a priest. I can't do this." Klempner growls, "I don't care if you're a priest, a rabbi, an imam, or if you ran the Bring-and-Buy at the church garden party. The lady here wants our child born in wedlock. You're going to marry us."Klempner turns his attention to Mitch, lying on her back on the delivery table, yelling her way through another contraction. She flings out an arm, grabbing at his wrist. He winces, but lays his other hand on top. "We'll just let this one pass..."The midwife, checking a bleeping monitor, flashes a look at Mitch. "Yo
RichardMy mobile bleeps: James.Landed. at airport now. home approx 90 mins. Tell Mitch he's keenElizabeth grins at me as I tap in the reply.don't go home. come city hospital. Mitch in labourThere's a short pause...Elizabeth holds up her hand, counting down silent fingers: Five... Four... Three... Two...... and my mobile bleeps again.When M go into labour?3 hrs doc and midwife say early but all normal all goodWith you ASAP K got taxi flying on wings of fire*****The corridor is painted the required institutional off-white, scraped black in long stripes at trolley-bed height. The lighting is the compulsory harsh fluorescent white. One strip blinks on and off. Signs point off down apparently identical corridors: Intensive Care... Reception... A & E... Chapel and Prayer Room... Radiology... Cardiology... Breast Screening...How many ways is it possible to be sick?Footsteps echo along the corridor; marching footsteps, almost stampeding footsteps.A
KlempnerAt last, I get some privacy with her. James ushers out Jenny, protesting all the way. Michael leaves too, turning as he exits to give me a kind of approving nod.Haswell poured glasses of champagne, passing them around at their side of the screen, although I did notice that he poured for Mitch from a different bottle. The top of the flute is just in view, spitting the odd bubble over the rim."Are you alone now?"She looks sidelong, off-screen. "Yes, they've gone.""What's Kirstie doing there?""I'm fitting her for her wedding dress. They've set the date for Christmas, remember.""I didn't know that.""Oh... no... Of course you wouldn't." She takes a sip of her bubbly, looking away. "It's been so long. They said you were dead. The police said there was a body.""There was, but not mine."She peers into the screen, searching my face. "How are you? What happened?""I'll tell you sometime, but not now. What's important, is how you are and..." I nod down, bel