Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 44

Richard

James steps out of the elevator looking…

What?

Harassed?

Worried?

“James?”

He looks to me then jerks his head towards his office. I follow him in. Silently, he offers me a small padded envelope, still sealed. “This was waiting for me down in the lobby. Special delivery.”

“A packet?”

“Look at the addressee.”

I look, extract spectacles from my top pocket and look again.

And the hair rises on the back of my neck.

Michelle Kimberley, c/o James Alexanders.

“Klempner?”

“Who else could it be? Conners wouldn’t know where to find her. Michelle’s brothers would probably send it to her direct. So, who else?”

“James, before anyone opens that envelope, could it be a letter-bomb?”

He blows out air, rubs his forehead. “I wouldn’t have thought that was Klempner’s style… If he wanted her, he come after her himself…” He paces the room. “And why would he send it through me?”

“You parted… amicably… from Klempner? After the shooting?”

He huffs. “I’m not sure that amicably is the right word, but yes, I had no feeling he held me any ill-will. Or Mitch. And he was the one with a gun in his hand. Still…” He strides to the door, flings it open. “…. It does no harm to check… Francis. Get City NDT on the phone for me would you. Ask for Mel Winters.”

“On it now, James.”

“How’s Michael doing?” I ask.

He rocks spread fingers back and forth. “Good days and bad days. Charlotte’s giving him a lot of support and I think that’s about the best that can be said.”

The phone on James’ desk buzzes. “Mel Winters for you, James.”

“Good morning, Mel. Yes, I am, thank you. Listen, I’ve a favour to ask. I’d like to use your x-ray facility for a few minutes. Yes, right away if that’s possible.” He checks his watch. “I could be there for 10am if that works for you? Perfect. Thank you.” He puts the phone down, looks up. “Want to come?”

*****

I’ve never been in a room quite like it, and for the first time I wonder if James chose a more interesting career path than I did. “So, what is this place exactly?”

We’re standing at one of a dozen workstations. At each of the others, a woman in a white coat peers at a monitor displaying the x-rayed image of some gizmo, examining it for about half a minute before moving to the next image.

“The company as a whole deals with the non-destructive testing…” says James… “… Of anything from metal castings to aircraft wings; looking for cracks, corrosion, defects… Anything that might compromise the usability, and the safety, of the item in question. This…” He gestures around the room… “is a test centre for military components. It’s the job of these people to see that everything is correctly assembled. It also means we are in the ideal environment to deal with it if we do find that we have a letter-bomb on our hands.”

I peer over the shoulder of one of the women, the display on her screen: an x-ray of something that looks like the lovechild of a mad clock-maker. “What are these, then?”