“Commissioner,” drawls Klempner, suddenly all casual self-assurance. “I would like to speak with your prisoner. Just for a moment.”
Stanton raises brows, c***s his chin to Harkness. “Go on, then.”
“A private word.”
privateStanton eyes him sceptically. “You expect me to leave you alone with him?”
“No, of course not.” Klempner smiles, quite charmingly… “…But I give you my word, I’ll not lay a finger on him.” As though to make a point, he shoves his hands into pockets.
Stanton hesitates. Klempner continues, “I’m sure you recall, Commissioner, that a number of people you know well, have assured you that my word is good.”
Stanton havers, then raises a hand in a brief get-on-with-it gesture.
get-on-with-it The smile flickers out. His expression etched in glass, Klempner strolls across. Ha
