Charlotte
They could have given me a blanket…
Not even a bucket…
Sheer indifference?
No…
This isn’t straightforward callousness…
It’s planned…
Calculated…
Why?
To humiliate me?
Perhaps…
The camera…
Is it only a spy?
Or more?
?
?
I’m supposed to be frightened…
They want a show…
Scared woman…
Helpless… Panicking…
Fuck them…
…
I’m not scared…
I’m not scared…
…
…
Then I gasp as, from the inside, Cara kicks and my stomach rebels.
*****
James
Three more days.
No word.
No progress.
No ransom demand.
Why?
I’m exhausted. Michael, Richard and Beth too. As for Mitch, she’s run out of tears, I think. But strain has etched lines which frame her mouth and eyes.
Beth serves food, pressing a mug of soup into Mitch’s hand. Then sitting by Michael, resting her head on his shoulder, she strokes the back of his hand.
It’s late, but none of us really sleeps. A bed has no appeal. Better to be together. When the imagination careers down dark paths, being with friends keeps you sane.
Despite the freezing weather, the house is warm. Michael has defaulted to chopping firewood, working off his tension in the woodshed. Logs stacked high by the side of the hearth, the fire glows, embers dropping to ashes that cast golden light over a dark room and darker moods.
From down the hall, the door rat-tats.
We all look up, around and at each other. Richard speaks for all of us. “Who the hell’s that… at this hour?”
“Maybe the police?” says Michael.
Mitch stands, a hand raising to her mouth. “Oh God, if it’s bad news…”
Michael lays an arm around her shoulder. “Or good news.” But he flashes a warning as he head-points me to the door. I eye him down to Mitch and with the most imperceptible of nods, he half-lowers his lids.
If it were good news, they’d have called…
They only come in person if it’s bad…
Heart banging against my ribs, I make my way down the hall. In the vestibule, I take a few seconds, resting back against the wall, scrubbing over my face with my hands.
No… please…
The knocker rat-rats again.
Taking a breath, I draw back the bolts and open the door…
… and there, a figure that, just for a moment, I don’t recognise.
The shirt crumpled, sweat-stained under the armpits; dirty, dishevelled, and semi-bearded…
Klempner.
“Hello, James.”
I gawk, my mouth flapping uselessly.
He regards me. “Do you have Jenny back?”
“No.”
“Mitch?”
“Not good.”
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Um, yes, of course.”
As I step aside, he brushes past me, trailing a reeking cloud of rotten fish. “Where is she?”
“Dining room, second on the left.”
He strides along the hall. I trail behind. “Good to see you too.”
Klempner ahead of me, heads turn as we enter.
Michael stands, hissing breath, his chair scraping back. Beth gives a shriek, quickly suppressed and Richard wraps his arms around her.
But Mitch…
Her eyes fling wide. Her mouth too, in a wail of pain and despair and grief that would freeze the heart of a statue.
“Mitch…” Klempner freezes in the doorway. “…before anything else is said, whatever you think, whatever has happened, on my word of honour, it isn’t me. I don’t have Jenny. I knew nothing about it until I received your message.”
Tears course down her face. Her chest rising and falling, rising and falling. “Really? Really not you?”
“Really not me. I promised I’d stay out of your life. I’ve kept that promise, right up to that call coming through.”
He looks to me. “Nice bit of thinking there with the bug, but…” He screws a finger into one ear. “My ears are still ringing. That scream hasn’t stopped echoing around my skull.”
Mitch doubles in on herself: great shaking sobs rack her body. “If not you, then who? I want her back. Oh, God. I just want her back safe.”
Klempner havers, then strides over, gripping her at the shoulders, squaring her up to himself. “Whatever’s happened, Mitch, understand, I will get her back for you.”
“Larry, I’ll do anything. Anything. You want me, Larry. You can have me… Just get Jenny. Bring her back to me… Just…”
He exhales, releasing her, stepping back. “Not like that Mitch. I don’t want you like that. Something I’ve bought: even if the price isn’t currency. Anyway, it’s beside the point. That’s not why I’m here. Whoever has Jenny, I will not stop until I find her… And them… And that’s a promise.”
I meet eyes with Michael and Richard. We all know it’s a promise Klempner can’t make, but…
When you need an ally prepared to stop at nothing…
… Who better?
An obsessive, highly intelligent, highly organised, ex-mercenary, with skills, contacts and no scruples…
Who is in love with Charlotte’s mother…
And for the first time in days, the clouds begin to clear inside my head.
Beth breaks away from Richard, pushing past Klempner and out of the room.
Klempner follows her with his eyes then turns to Richard. “Haswell, tell your wife she can come back in. I’m not here to eat her.”
Richard is cool. “The last time you and Elizabeth met, you had abducted her and were threatening to sell her on, along with Charlotte too, to some god-forsaken part of the world where no-one would even speak the language. She told me at the time you intended to sell them as a pair to supply the novelty market.”
Klempner faces him, legs akimbo, arms folded. “Events have moved on since then. I’d apologise if it would change the past. It won’t. I’m here on Mitch’s behalf. And my daughter’s of course. I have no intention of harming your wife, so if she has something useful to contribute here, then please tell her to come back in. I’ll not bite.”
Mitch winds a curl of hair around a finger, unwinds it and rewinds it. Then she wrinkles her nose. “Larry, you don’t smell too good. Actually, you smell appalling.”
“Ah…” He looks up to the ceiling, then down, then backs away from her. “Yes, sorry about that. I came as fast as I could when I received that transmission. You caught me at a bad moment.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d received the message at all,” I say. “I had no way of knowing. And when seventy-two hours had come and gone, I thought…”
Klempner scrapes a hand through his hair, then sniffs the hand, curling a lip in distaste. “I’ve been on the move for seventy-one of those hours. And it only took me that long because I had to get hold of a passport.”
I suppress a smile.
Not my passport…
A passport…
Klempner grimaces. “But you’re right, yes, I stink. I left with a passport, a mobile, and fuck-all else. I don’t even have a change of clothes.”
“We can sort that out,” says Michael. “We have clothes in the hotel shop if you don’t mind sportswear.”
“If it’s clean…”
He’s interrupted by the re-arrival of Beth, carrying a tray: coffee pot, teapot, mugs, milk and cream. She manoeuvres carefully through the door and around Klempner, her own advancing pregnancy making her movement awkward as she places the tray on the dining table. “It’s going to be another late night, isn’t it.”
Richard lays a hand on her shoulder. “Elizabeth, go upstairs.”
She pours coffee into a mug, passing it to a silent Klempner. “I’d rather stay, thank you.” Then she passes another to me.
Richard’s lips press thin, an edge to his voice. “Elizabeth, go upstairs.
Not used to Beth putting up an argument?
“I’ll stay. I want to help, even if it’s only serving tea.”
His voice drops to a hiss. “I gave you an instruction.”
“Which I heard. And I’d still rather stay.”
Beth faces him, chin raised. “How can I help if I don’t hear what’s said? Mas… Richard, it’s not fair to keep me out of this. Charlotte means a lot to me too. Before I became just your su… wife, you hired me for your company because you said I have an eye for detail.”
“You do. You always did, but…” Richard glares at Klempner, sitting close by, watching and listening, calmly, silently, sipping coffee. “You are afraid of this man, Elizabeth. I know you are.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love Charlotte too. It’s not right to keep me out.”
Klempner rises from his seat, smooth as oil, and pulls out another chair. “Mrs Haswell, please sit. Anyone with an eye for detail does indeed belong here. I assure you, I appreciate your willingness to remain.”
Richard whirls on him, eyes white-rimmed. But Klempner’s tone remains bland. “We cannot always rule the lives of the women we love…” His eyes shift to Mitch… “… even when we might wish to do so.”
Richard glowers at him but gives Beth a short curt nod. “Very well. But I reserve the right to withdraw my permission.” She sits and he takes the next seat. From the angle of his arm, I’d say he has a hand on her thigh.
Klempner moves, all nonchalance, to the far end of the table, pulls out a chair and sits, leaning back.
Fingers steepled to his chin “So… tell me what’s happened.”
*****