All Chapters of The Master's Child: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

KlempnerA group of half a dozen of the women mill around, seeming not to know what to do without someone telling them...Natural slaves...The Glock raised in my hand, "Get out!"One blathers at me, runs up pleading, then her eyes fix on my pistol."Out!" I yell, pointing to the door. "Saia! Ir!"Still they don't get the message. Another runs up, weeping mascara, at me.Too stupid to live...Setting down the Glock, I cup my paired hands, then... "Boom..." I open them up. "Out!"And finally, they get it. Eyes widen. Screaming, they go....... two running the wrong way.Fuck...I make after them, and there, running ahead of them...Finchby...Gotcha!His eyes widen as he sees me coming and he brings up his pistol. He's way too slow, yelping as I slap the hand to one side, banging the fingers against the wall."Hey, Larry..." He's red-faced, spluttering, panicking... I plant my fist in his face and he drops. Got the bastard!I haul him onto his feet.

MichaelThe Ahhh marches across Klempner's face.Footsteps sound outside, drawing closer and James re-enters.In a few minutes, he's changed. From the winter woollens, heavy jeans and boots he was wearing before, he changed into a fresh shirt, suit and polished shoes. His face is clean, barring the swollen eye, and he's combed his hair. And under one arm, he's carrying a wooden box. For a second, I can't think what it is. Then I realise...To me, this is just my old friend James.But what will Finchby see?He flashes a glance at the still unconscious man. "How long before he wakes up?"Klempner rocks a hand. "I didn't give him much. Anytime now. Within the next few minutes certainly.""Good. Michael..." He snaps fingers towards the cooler. "Ice bucket." Then he aims a finger towards the table behind our dangling houseguest.And now I know what he has in mind. I grin. "My pleasure."Klempner, obviously bemused, watches in silence as I scoop ice into the bucket and

RichardJames and Klempner, heads close, voices low; they stand together at the end of the hall discussing something... I assume Finchby... The bell rings. I don't feel quite comfortable answering the door in someone else's home, but James waves me on, his eyes flicking between me and Klempner.I open the door to find myself face to thunderous face with Will Stanton.For a second or two, I hesitate, blocking the view down the hall. Deliberately raising my voice, "Will... Good to see you." I glance back. Klempner exchanges an alarmed look with James."Richard..." Will Stanton's voice booms through the house. "May I come in?" In the hallway, Will stands, legs akimbo, hands clasped before him, holding his hat, eyes darting in all directions. James, all casual good manners, strolls down, hand proffered. "Will, thank you for calling by. What can we do for you?"Will awards him an old look. "Nice eye patch, James. How did you come by it?"James sucks at his teeth. "Why don'

The fog swirls outside the window; the light is already dim. Nonetheless, she draws curtains, lights a candle. Then another. The light shimmers over her hair, dances in her eyes.Her hands on my chest once more, "You want this?""Mitch, I've never wanted anything else.""Good," she murmurs. She tugs at my jacket. "Why don't you take this off?" She slides it from my shoulders, hanging it neatly from a hook on the back of the door. "That too." She nods to my pullover.I strip it off along with the undershirt below, moving carefully to avoid straining the wound. Then I stand, skin goosing, hoping that...Mitch chuckles. "Why don't we just get ourselves where it's warm?" She reaches under the bed, and something clicks. She wrinkles her nose at me. "Electric blanket."Despite everything; the years, the waiting, the wanting... something like bashfulness takes me. I've not been celibate in the years between. I've scratched the itch when I needed to. But that's all it was; satisfyi

KlempnerAt the door, standing ajar, I hesitate, my stomach suddenly dropping away.Have I done enough?With muscles oddly reluctant to move, I tap on the door, very quietly."It's open."I push, and too slowly, the door swings wider.Jenny's sitting in a rocking chair by the window. Her hair, so like her mother's spills over a thick shawl pulled around her shoulders. A warm blanket covers her lap. And her face, while pale, has lost that sheen she had when Michael and I found her.And held in her arms, wrapped in layers of knitted woollens...Cara...Your daughter.My granddaughter.I want to say something. Something appropriate, but I'm not sure what it should be. I abused you...Mistreated you...Took my revenge on you...For something you had no involvement in.And as your gaze rises to me, you smile... "Father..."When did I ever think to see you smile at me?"May I come in?""Of course you can." She adjusts her position, fiddles with the l