Hunkering down by us, he says, "It's good to see you again, Mitch." She's trembling violently and I'm watching both the blade in his hand and Klempner himself; his movements, his tone, his body-language. But there's no threat there, no sense of ill-intent.He crouches close by her, offers the blade to the tape binding her hands, then hesitates. "I'm doing this now," he says, "because I know you won't let me after you're freed."Leaning over, he kisses her forehead, cups a swollen cheek with his free hand. He holds the position for a second, then squats back, raises the blade again and saws through the layers of tape; first her wrists, then her ankles.He reaches for the tape over her face, but she recoils as his hand comes close. He blinks then backs off. "You do it," he says, passing me the knife, handle first. He rises, takes out the gun again and returns to watching the doors.It takes only seconds to ungag Mitch and, one eye on Klempner, she shakes blood into her fingers an
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