Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 38

I’m supporting Charlotte. Mitch stays close by Michael, who doesn’t look happy.

Klempner moves around the room, standing by each door in turn, ear pressed close. He shakes his head a little. “Can’t hear a thing.”

Laying hand on handle. “Ready everyone? Let’s see if Laughing Boy is still out there.”

There’s a tremor in Michael’s voice. “Don’t hurt him if you don’t have to.”

Klempner’s reply is cool. “Why don't you give it a rest? I’d say you've let your brother get away with far too much.” Michael’s jaw sets.

Klempner stands by the exit to the passageway, easing the door open a crack, peering out. “Stand back.” As the gap widens, a shot ricochets through the opening. Klempner jerks back. “He’s by the stairs, blocking the exit.”

Michael pushes forward. “I’ll talk to him. He only shot me by accident. He wouldn’t do it deliberately.”

Klempner arches brows, standing back from the door, gesturing out. “It’s your funeral.”

Michael opens the door wide, calling out. “Ben, it’s me. Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.”

There’s no response. He steps out.

Klempner, his eyes fixed on the door, speaks side-long. “He’s moving cautiously for a man who thinks he was only shot by accident.”

Michael stands out in the corridor, looking out towards the stairs, then revolves, looking around, up and down the passage. “Ben?” Then he turns back to us, hands spread out in a WTF? gesture.

His eyes widen to something behind me. The back of my neck prickles and I spin…

The door behind me stands open, framing Ben, Baxter’s gun aimed…

Where’s he aiming?

It wavers, shifting between me, Mitch and Charlotte. Michael charges forward, standing between us and his brother.

Ben is flushed, sweating, his eyes wild.

He has lost it…

“Give it up, Bro,” says Michael. “You can’t win this one. You think I’m going to let you do this? Murder my wife and her child, her mother and my closest friend?”

Ben’s hand is shaking wildly… “You can’t keep living like this Mike. It’s not right. It’s not natural. It’s her child, not yours…”

Beside me, Klempner mutters, “This moron’s Eye-Candy’s brother?”

“’Fraid so.”

Ben’s still in full flow. "… You’re married to a whore and I still don’t understand how you can think it’s okay… or how she talked you into it." He casts a toxic glance my way. "And him…"

I lurch forward, but Klempner reaches, planting a palm on my chest. “You’d better let him sort this one out for himself,” he murmurs, “If you want it to stick.”

When did you get an insight into the human condition?

But he’s right. If anyone can talk sanity into Ben, it’s going to have to be Michael.

“Right?” splutters Michael. “You think it’s right to push a pregnant woman down the stairs?” He holds hands to his head… “And the only unnatural thing around here, Ben, is a man who thinks he should tell the rest of the world how to live. And when they disagree with him, sets out to murder two women and an unborn baby plus a man who’s never done him any harm of any kind.”

He steps forward, hand outstretched. “C’mon, Ben. Give me the gun. Then the worst that’s happened is you’ve winged me in an accident. Just one of those stupid things that happens when brothers mess around.”

Charlotte breaks in. “What about Kirstie? She could die. And all she ever did was try to warn Ben when he was out of order.”

“Michael, she’s right,” I say. “This has already gone beyond any attempt to brush it under the carpet. And that’s before any medical check on Charlotte after her fall. If there’s any damage to the baby…”

Michael jolts…

Ben screams at him. “It’s not your baby, Mike. It’s his.”

“It’s a baby!” Mitch yells, striding forward. “It’s done nothing. Hurt no-one…”

Ben’s gun wheels on to her. “What the fuck’s it to do with you? You weren’t even in this until they went and dug you out from whatever fucking cesspit you were hiding in.”

“This has gone on long enough,” mutters Klempner. “Get behind me, the lot of you.” He eye-points Charlotte and Mitch. “I mean it. Get them back. As far back as you can. Leave this to me.”

I tug Charlotte at the wrist. “You heard him. Back.” She flashes furious eyes at me. “I am not joking,” I hiss. “I said back.” Mitch watches this, falling back with us.

Klempner moves between us and Ben. He paces up and down, Ben’s eye and hand following him. “You’re very quick to condemn, don’t you think? People just getting on with their lives. Not doing you any harm.” Klempner’s weapon hangs loosely in his right hand, by his side.

Ben’s outstretched hand wavers at Klempner who, quite calmly, stares straight down the barrel of the gun. “I know about you. You’re as bad as them.” He jerks his chin at Mitch. “She’s just a common whore, and here you are defending her. You fucked with her.”

Klempner’s head inclines. “No, Mitch was a quite extraordinary whore, and since her profession didn’t bother me, I don’t see that it should concern you. But since it does and you claim to know who I am… Of all the things I have on my sheet, you want to pick me up on my taste in women?”

Ben trembles and shakes. Sweat runs down his now scarlet face.

“Michael has it right, Ben. Give it up,” drawls Klempner. “You’re not cut out for this. You just shot your own brother. You know, the one you claim to be protecting.”

“Go to hell.”

Klempner snorts. “Probably. Save me a seat.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are to be telling me what to do? It’s nothing to do with you.”

Klempner halts in his pacing. “Excuse me? For a start, I’m her father…” He jabs his left hand towards Charlotte, “… And she’s carrying my grandchild. So, if you imagine I’m a disinterested party, you’re mistaken.”

Klempner’s gun still hangs loosely by his side, but he feels about as safe to be near as a cobra coiled low.

“You're not going to pull that trigger,” he says. “You're an amateur.” His right hand swings up, pointing at Charlotte. “You hate her guts. You want her dead.” The hand swings to me and I find myself, briefly, looking down the barrel of his gun. “Him too. But you haven't got the balls to do it. You’re just a little man, small-minded, with no imagination and thinking everyone should live in the same little world you do.”

Ben’s face morphs from red to white, his gun swinging wildly between Charlotte and me, following Klempner’s words, but Klempner keeps talking.

“You have no idea what’s really out there. I’ve faced down worse than you three times before breakfast. Real bad bastards. The kind who’ll hack off an arm or a leg because they think it’s funny. And I know when someone’s holding a gun on me, if they’re going to pull the trigger.”

Klempner’s right arm swings again, punctuating his words. “You want them dead.” He jerks his left thumb at me… “You wanted me to murder him for you… But that went wrong too, didn’t it? And you don’t have the guts to do your own dirty work.”

Contempt drips from his words. “The women could be dead already if you had the balls to do it. All you needed to do was tape over their noses as well as their mouths, but you’re too much of a coward for that either, so you bring them here and wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do next.”

He pauses, takes a breath, staring at Ben, who backs away a step. “And as for her…” He points to Charlotte, who is staring cat-eyed at Ben… “… My daughter… You think she’s scared of you? You think her mother is? She faced me down years ago. Broke in. Came to rescue the man who it turned out is a complete dog-shit, but that’s not her fault. And she…” The finger swings back to Charlotte… “… She was running the gauntlet when she was six. She ran away more times than I can count, and she got better at it every time. She wasn’t scared then, and she’s not scared now. And he…”

The finger swings again, to me…

Good God…

“… He used his own body to shield my daughter from a bullet. It nearly killed him, and I know it’s not a myth because I just fucking saw him do it again, when you were sending off pot-shots while you hid in the dark.”

He tosses his head. “What have you done, Ben? What are you proud of? Sweet fuck-all that I can see. No, you take some high moral stance that says it’s right to take offense at your own brother and the way he wants to live.”

Charlotte exchanges glances with me

Klempner taking a moral stance?

Or just stopping Ben from thinking straight?

But Ben is still holding the gun, and it’s aimed at Klempner…

… who isn’t batting an eyelid…

No-one ever accused him of cowardice…

Or stupidity…

Ben shifts: almost a pre-movement that tells you something is following.

His arm whips towards Charlotte.

She raises her own weapon. She fires.

Ben ducks, slaps at his cheek and the trickle of blood there, curses, and aims again.

In the same movement, Michael dives at Charlotte, taking her down, out of Ben’s line of sight.

I’m lunging, plunging, pushing Mitch down and under me.

As Charlotte falls, she curls almost into a foetal position, her whole body tucked around her abdomen. Her gun skitters across the floor and Michael snatches it up, aiming for his brother…

Ben's hand swings again, but as it shifts between targets Klempner moves…

… A sharp retort that echoes and re-echoes around the confined chamber…

… A scream as the pistol in Ben’s hand leaps, then skitters over the stone… Ben cursing and clutching at his injured hand.

Another shot, and in quick succession another. Ben’s chest explodes into blood and shrieking, he falls; jerking and convulsing.

Klempner strides over, gun hand outstretched, standing over the fallen man…

Michael screams, “No…”

But Klempner fires again, this time into the forehead. Once. Twice. Ben jerks and falls still.

Michael falls to his knees, howling and weeping, gathering his fallen brother into his arms. Charlotte and Mitch stare, aghast, but not apparently, sorry.

I'm shaking. There's blood everywhere. "What happened to him being an amateur and not having the balls for it?"

Klempner shrugs. “He would have got there. He did get there. He was just screwing himself up to do it.” He looks to Mitch and Charlotte. “They would never have been safe from him. They're safe now.”

He throws his gun to the ground. “Don’t touch it. Forensics will show the bullet that killed him came from there.” He picks up the weapon Charlotte, and briefly Michael, carried, wiping the handle before placing it in the holster under his jacket.

He sees my expression. “One more shooting won’t make a lot of difference to my record,” he says drily. “And I’d hope you’ll testify that I was defending my daughter.”

In the distance a sound rises: the wail of sirens. Klempner looks quickly outward, then he holds his hand out. “Mitch?”

She swallows, backs against the wall, her chest rising and falling. “No.”

“Mitch, please…”

“I can’t. Not with the kind of man you are.”

He’s blinking. “How about the man I could be? Mitch, it’s different when you’re here. I'm different.”

She relaxes, moves closer. Looking up, she touches his face. “You’re a terrible man, Larry.” He leans in to the touch, his eyes closing. “You’ve done some dreadful things.”

“Stay with me, Mitch. Be with me.”

“I can’t. I found Jenny again. After all these years. Mothers who love their children don’t leave them behind.”

His eyes open. He takes a breath. Then another. “I know that now.” He takes the fingers cupping his cheek, kisses them, then his gaze shifts to mine. “Will you hunt me?”

Will I?

I look to Michael, on the floor, sobbing inconsolably, cradling Ben’s body. “He will.” Outside, the sound of sirens is growing louder. “I’d say you have about two minutes.” I eye-point the door.

He jerks a nod, glances to Charlotte, then to Mitch, turns and leaves.

*****