Chapter 4: Chapter 4

“You look thoughtful.”

Michael twists the wine glass between his fingers, not drinking, simply turning it around and around.

“Mmmm. Yes.”

“Is there any more of that wine?”

He reaches to a nearby shelf, takes a bottle, passes it across to me. As I pour myself a glass, “Problem? Something you want to share?”

“I think we should go visit Klempner.”

I hover in mid-pour, meeting his eyes then, without saying anything, finish pouring. Seating myself in the armchair opposite, “Why would you want to go see Klempner?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” he muses.

“Not that I disagree with that, but the man’s a psychopath.”

“Yes, but he's a complicated psychopath and he's not stupid.”

“Is that the only reason you want to see him?”

He swipes a hand through his hair, then scratches at his nose before, finally, gulping at his wine. I wait.

“Well, in the first place,” he begins, “Klempner offered a kind of deal. He doesn't make any trouble for Charlotte on condition that she visits him.”

“And you think it was a genuine offer?”

“No. But... Who can tell? A visit would at least show good faith.”

“I’m not comfortable with this, with him seeing her. I know you spoke with the man, but I didn’t and….”

“I know and that’s why, for the first visit, I'd like to talk to him without Charlotte, but with you.”

“Me? You want me to come? Why?”

“Because Klempner was interested in us. You and I. In Charlotte’s relationship with us. It’s something to do with her mother's connection with Klempner and Conners. And….” He shrugs. Sighs… “… you’re naturally more suspicious than I am. Less likely to see the er….”

“…. The better angels of his nature?”

He chuckles, flashing brows at me. “Quite. We’ll have two different views on the man. If Charlotte is going to visit him, I think you should weigh him up too. First.”

“Alright. I’ll come too.”

*****

Michael takes the driver’s seat and fires up the engine. I move more slowly as I ease my stiff leg into position, pushing the seat back so as to stretch out as far as I can.

Michael watches with no signs of impatience. “Mind if I make a suggestion?”

“Sure. What?”

Reaching into the glove compartment, he rummages until he finds a small bottle, pushing it into my hand. “Just in case, half an hour or so before we go in, take a couple of painkillers. We don't want that bastard to see you limping.”

“Mmmm… Yes.” I slip the bottle in a pocket.

Driving, Michael glances down at my outstretched leg, seems about to speak, then swallows his words and looks back onto the road.

“What?”

“Um, nothing.”

“What? You were going to say something.”

He looks to me, looks away, then back at me. “When we get back tonight, would you like me to massage the leg? Loosen up the muscles a bit… Or… would that be weird?”

I consider this. “I’d say it’s about an eight or nine out of ten on the weirdometer.”

“Mmmm…. Yes.” He chews on a lip, then, “Would you like me to show Charlotte how to do it?”

“Excellent idea.”

*****

Sutcliffe pokes his head around the door. “You have visitors, Mr Klempner.”

I jolt to attention. “Who? Is it her?”

“No sir, it's two men. The blond one who came with her last time, and another one.”

“Dark-haired? Looks a bad bastard?”

“That sounds like him, yes, sir.”

From outside my cell comes another voice, brusque; Hartland. “Sutcliffe, get on with it. Larry, move yourself. We don’t have all day.”

Sutcliffe rolls eyes, offering me a look of mute apology, then, “Yes, Mr Hartland. We’re coming now.”

In corridors of concrete and steel, sour with the stink of disinfectant and sweat, Sutcliff walks behind me, as per the rules. I speak in a low voice. “You remember what I asked you to do?”

“Yes, sir. Leave it with me.”

*****