All Chapters of The Master's Child: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

KlempnerIn one hand, I hold a single copper strand. In the other, a thread of brown.My body freezes as my mind races through the possibilities.I left my hotel room several hours earlier, slicking a hair into place over the crack between door and frame as I left. On my return, a hair was still in place and I entered my room assuming all was normal.Now, however, in my left hand, I hold a hair just plucked from my own scalp: the mousy-brown shade of my current identity.In the right hand, I hold the hair which dropped from my hotel room door as I returned, and which on casual inspection, I had taken to be the one I slicked into place as I left the room earlier.But the right-hand hair is red.And now I look at it, I recognise that shade: a deep burnished copper-auburn that many women aspire to, but few have.But Mitch has it. Jenny too;Could it come from one of them?Probably, yes.Jenny...Juliana, or at least her cat's-paws Baxter and Finchby, had Jenny unco

KlempnerA quick trawl of some of the greyer websites I use from time to time quickly produces what I want: contact details for an arms merchant who isn't too fussy about inspecting, or even asking for, documentation or licences relating to either his merchandise or his clientele. Online, it seems ideal, but when I arrive at the address, I'm unimpressed.I could be in the set of some clichéd hack movie. The side alley is dark and damp. The building is of the would-fall-down-but-is-held-up-by-the-dry-rot variety. It's even better as I enter.The proprietor has, apart from a serious case of halitosis, a gold tooth. Why I have no idea. It glints from among a sundry dental collection in black, brown and yellow. Apart of course from the three which are missing altogether from the front. Maybe he lost them in a fight. Or perhaps they ran for cover from their horrible housing.Having wandered into the area wearing my don't-mind-me-I'm-a-tourist uniform, I'm beginning to regret the cre

KlempnerA dozen of them...Or more.I know where to find at least one of Juliana's heavies. So I might as well reduce the numbers a bit...Improve the odds.And oddly, I find I have another motive.The things we learn about ourselves...I realise that the idea of coercing the old man's hard-earned cash away from him offends me.That's new.........Wonder how much they've had off him over the years...?Why do they call it 'Protection'?Call it what it is...Extorting money with menaces...I make a working assumption that Wonder Boy is liable to turn up at about the same time as on previous occasions. After all, he wants his clientele to know when to have the money available for pillage and theft.A lurking spot near Antonio's bar gives me what I want: a view of the entrance.He turns up, right on time. The last time our paths crossed, he made it away with the money and delivered it to Juliana, or at least to the poor sap whose arm she was hanging on.

It takes the pair of them to lift me; her at my feet, him at my shoulders; carrying me to a car parked, as I now realise, only yards away. They roll me over the edge of the trunk, where I thump down, landing awkwardly and on my face. Twisting, I'm still trying to ease myself into a more comfortable position when, letting me see her do it, Juliana delves into her bag again. She produces a small bottle, sets it on the edge of the trunk, then after another rummage, plastic packets containing syringe and needle...My bladder tightens.At least the needle will be clean..."He's not going anywhere, Sola," says Jose. "Nowhere we don't want him to go anyway.""I don't want him enjoying the ride too much. Just check he's properly restrained."Jose leans in, gripping me at my shoulder, rolling me. He prods at my knees and my ankles, both locked tight. Then at my elbows. "He's fine.""Good." Juliana's eyes flick between mine and the needle and syringe as she assembles them. Then she g

Five minutes later, the light clicks off. For one mind-numbing moment, I think she's left me in the dark, but as my eyes adjust, the light is merely very dim: blinking green from the activation light of the camera.I'd thought my stomach was empty but, as it turns out, I've not done yet. As Juliana's footsteps dwindle to silence, my gut heaves. I have just enough time to react by throwing myself to the edge of the water channel before my stomach relieves itself of the last of its burden. The piquancy and fragrance of Portuguese street food were good on the way down, but chilli and spices are less appealing on the way back up.Retching and puking, I let my body do its worst. Part of me knows this is the monkey brain acting: fear and panic running their course. Another part, the human brain, sits in the passenger seat, waiting calmly to take the wheel again.And now, with the immediate freak-out passing albeit with muscles still twitching and dancing the adrenaline fandango, I sit