Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 5

Klempner ambles in as though he’d been invited to a tea party. His eyes pass over me, already seated, instead sliding across to James who stands, arms folded, lids hooded, silent.

Klempner sits, the screen separating us. “Only you two?” he drawls. “Where’s Jenny?”

“We came without her on this occasion,” I say, then cock my head across. “James wanted to weigh you up for himself.”

“Is that right?” He looks back at James, apparently considering. “Does she know you're here?”

“No.”

He ignores me, addressing James. “So, what do you want?”

“I want to know why you want to see Charlotte. And why you imagine she would ever want to see you.”

“The last time we met, you broke both my arms. Am I supposed to be pleased to see you?”

“You were on the point of having someone I care about gang-raped. We'll call it even, shall we?” James’ chin lifts. “And it’s worth pointing out that, in fact, it wasn’t me that broke your arms. It was Charlotte. And if the police hadn’t turned up when they did, I might well have shot you with your own gun. I was tempted. That would have finished all our problems, wouldn’t it.”

Klempner looks down, rubs his nose, then back up again. “That's why I'm on this side of the screen, and you're on that side. So… Why should I talk to you?”

James sits back in his seat, folding the arms again. “If you don't satisfy us, me and Michael, Charlotte won't be coming anywhere near you. A show of goodwill on your part would go a long way. A little humility wouldn’t do any harm either.”

Klempner sucks in his cheeks, considering that, then “Okay, shoot. What is it you want?”

“Why do you want to see her?”

Klempner raises eyes, staring up at the ceiling, exhales, then aims a finger at me. “The last time you were here, with her…. When she laughed, it reminded me of... happier times.”

“You're not happy?”

He huffs. “They put me on suicide watch.”

“Really? You're thinking of suicide?”

Klempner gives a long look, then gestures around the miserable room. Unplastered brickwork, painted institutional green. Bars cut across windows. When the guard shifts his position, the sound of the slight movement echoes against hard walls and harder floors. “What do you think?”

“I think that you think far too much of your own skin to go down that path…” Klempner’s eyes narrow… “… If you weren't here… If you were still living your previous life, from before you were captured, would you be happy?”

Klempner shrugs. “What's happy? I worked. I was wealthy. For all the good it did.”

“If it didn't make you happy, why do it?” James' voice is dry, but….

He actually sounds interested….

Klempner’s reply is equally dry. “It's better to cry in a limo than on a bicycle….” His gaze travels the length of James’ expensive suit…. “…. Don’t you think?”

James doesn’t reply, instead pursing his lips. There’s a set to his eyes…

He leans forward on the counter, his face close to the screen, hands fisting. “I want to know why the man who enslaved, abused, and came close to having Charlotte raped, wants to see her again. Why?”

Klempner stills, silent.

“Do you want to see her again?” I ask. “Or was what you said last time simply a spur of the moment thing? You didn’t really mean it?”

His eyes snap up. “Yes. I want to see her again.”

“Then… Why?” insists James. “If I don’t get an answer that satisfies me, she’s not coming.”

Klempner gives him a slow look. “It seems to me….” he drawls, “from what I saw of her, that if that one decides she wants to come, she’ll ignore your opinion.”

James stiffens, bolt upright, eyes slitted, lips pressed white.

But Klempner continues. “You see, Jenny’s a lot like her mother. She takes after her. There’s damn all of her father in there.”

“She could be your daughter,” I say.

His voice is flat. “She's Conners' daughter.”

“You're sure of that?”

“I'm sure.”

“How?”

But he doesn't reply, simply looking away.

“What was she like? Her mother?”

“Mitch? Ahhh….” Klempner’s eyes soften. He stares into some unreadable distance. “She was charming and clever, spoilt and selfish. She told me she’d been the youngest in her family, and it showed. She wanted everything her own way. I don’t think she’d ever been refused.” He coughs a laugh, bitter and raw. “She learned better than that with me….”

“I can imagine.”

“…. And she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw….”

“And you’ve seen a few.” James' face is set.

“Oh yes. I’m a good judge of…. female flesh.”

I interrupt. I know trouble brewing when I see it. “How many have you enslaved?”

Klempner’s eyes droop. “I have no idea. I never counted.”

“No idea? Not even roughly?”

“When I'm shipping a cargo,” he snaps, “I don't care what's on board. Just how much it costs and how much it makes.”

He inhales, rubs the back of his neck, blows air. “Why are you here, the pair of you? You didn’t come to ask about my business practices. What is it you want from me? I want to see the girl. What do you want?”

“We want to find her mother. Charlotte wants to find her mother. You robbed her of that when she was a baby. Perhaps you can make amends now.”

Klempner pauses, seemingly thoughtful. “I’ve not seen Mitch in over twenty years.” He speaks slowly. “If I knew where to find her, I’d have done it, long ago.”

“Where did you lose the trail?”

He ponders again, lids lowered, then, “Got a pen and paper?”

Uncertain, I glance at the guard, but he nods permission, watching closely as James take his diary from a pocket, tears out a sheet and slides it under the screen with a pen.

Klempner scribbles something down, slides it back. “That's the address where she was living when she was with Conners and the baby.”