The Lover's Children novel Chapter 74

KLEMPNER

Not a great success…

Stanton’s files then. Look them over…

… while I work on my interview technique.

But where?

Somewhere private.

A bar?

Too public. And I need somewhere to spread out. A desk. Somewhere to file. Maybe a display board.

Rent an office?

Then it strikes me…

Nothing like missing the blindingly fucking obvious…

*****

At the Haswell offices, I stroll through acres of brassy, glassy bling and into the public foyer, to be met by a face I know well. “Good morning, Kirstie.”

A microsecond of blank expression washes away like rain under a windscreen wiper. “Larry?” Then she breaks into a smile. “What can I do for you? Charlotte’s not here that I’m aware of.”

“Thank you, Kirstie, but I’m not here to see my daughter. I was hoping to have a word with Haswell.”

That blank expression again for a moment. “Richard Haswell? I’ll… see if he’s available.” She taps into her desk-con unit. “Francis? I have Mr Waterman here asking to see Mr Haswell… Yes, Larry Waterman… No, he doesn’t say…” Then she nods brightly. “Go on up. Mr Haswell’s in his office.”

*****

RICHARD

My intercom buzzes. “Yes, Francis?”

“I have Kirstie on, sir. She says there’s a Mr Waterman downstairs, asking to see you.”

“Waterman? Larry Waterman?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“What on earth’s he doing here?”

“She doesn’t say, sir.

“Tell him to come up.”

Lydia’s head pops up from somewhere behind a tray of filing. “He’s coming here? What does he want?”

Francis’ tone is prim. “I don’t know, Lydia and it’s none of your business.”

*****

Klempner steps out of the elevator with that air he has of owning everything around him.

“Larry, what can I do for you?”

His reply is cut short as Lydia charges at him, cup and saucer in hand, wearing an expression of vapid adoration. “I made you a coffee.”

“Lydia!” Francis snaps the words. “You do not interrupt Mr Haswell when he’s speaking.”

Her head hangs. “Sorry. I just thought I should make you welcome.” Klempner accepts the cup, grunting some response, but pointedly ignoring the girl.

Francis shepherds her back behind her filing. I return my attention to Klempner. “So, repeating my question, what can I do for you?” He hovers, eyeing the two women. “Come into my office. We can talk there.”

Inside, Klempner strolls to the window, gazing out over the Cityscape, one hand holding the cup, the other shoved in a pocket. “Spectacular scenery.”

“Isn’t it. All the City laid before me.”

His mouth quirks. “I imagine it helps that you own half of it.”

“Not quite that much, but enough for a satisfying view, yes.” I wave him to a seat, pour myself a coffee from the pot Francis keeps topped up by the window area. “So…?”

“You know I’ve agreed to help Stanton with this investigation into the Surgeon.”

“Will did tell me, yes.”

“He’s given me a copy of the files. It’s unpleasant stuff. I don’t want to take it back to the house. I particularly don’t want to leave it anywhere Mitch or Jenny might find it. I was wondering if you have a spare meeting or conference room I could use from time to time.”

“Of course I do…” I ponder for a moment. “I should have thought of it myself. You need a work base, don’t you.”

“I do. Just on an occasional basis. I’ll try not to get underfoot. And perhaps a storage locker for the files.”

“I think we can do better than that. You may be working on this for some time. You’ll need a private space where you can safely leave your files and know they’re away from prying eyes. Something at least semi-permanent.” I raise my voice, calling out. “Francis, a moment, please.”

As my PA makes her way through, tablet in hand, Lydia, cranes to see. Francis closes the door carefully behind herself.

“Francis, I’d like you to find an office for Mr Waterman here. Something private and with access to a meeting room if needed.”

She taps at her keyboard, scrolling down a screen of data. “Would you prefer something on the upper levels, or lower down, Mr Waterman?”

He glances out over the view. “If I have a choice, upper level, I think.”

“Actually…” I raise a forefinger. “It occurs to me, rather than an office, why don’t you take one of the guest suites.”

Klempner blanks over. “Guest suites?”

“They’re up on the penthouse level. We keep them for visiting VIPs. The suites have full facilities including a kitchenette. Given the nature of what you’re doing, you’re likely to be working some odd hours. You might appreciate being able to get your head down without having to drive all the way home.”

He sucks at his cheeks. “That’s very good of you, Haswell. I’ll take up your offer. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Francis, give Mr Waterman the key for Suite Two. Show him around. Check he has everything he needs… Desk. Filing cabinet. Bookshelves or whatever. And make sure everything he has is lockable.”

“Yes, Mr Haswell.”