Klempner has commandeered one of the bedrooms. Spread over three desks shoved together end-to-end, he works his way through a stack of mobile artillery. More weaponry propped against the wall. Steel ammunition boxes, their dull-green paint scored and worn are stacked with them.
The first time I encountered his personal armoury, it filled a couple of sports bags. Now, enough gear is stacked, scattered, and spilled around the room to…
“You look as though you’re setting out to arm a small revolution.”
His eyes rise from his workpiece, but his hands continue. “And what do you imagine we’re dealing with here?”
“Where d’you get all this stuff from?”
get“Here and there. I keep it stored against need.” He blows out his cheeks. “In truth, I’d hoped it would collect dust and mouse-droppings for
