“Unfortunately, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

“Yes, definitely.” Crazy face. “Can you tell me a little about your work?”

“Certainly. It’s not as though you’re a security risk now.” He went on to elaborate about his various projects and the results he hoped to achieve. The scope and daring of it left her speechless. At last Rowan concluded, “At first, I was quite vexed with you for nosing around. I hate when I have to snip loose ends.”

He’s talking about Kelly, she realized with a thrum of horrified outrage. She wasn’t a loose end. She was a person with thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams. And now, because of you, her family is grieving. In that moment, Mia knew hate for the first time. She looked at his face and knew she would stab a knife into his brain, given the least opportunity. And this is how Søren feels, every single day.

No wonder he’s a little crazy. Before this is done, I may be, too.

“So they rely on you to solve any problems that arise in the labs upstairs?” Mia had no real sense of where they were, but it seemed as good a description as any.

“It is tiresome,” he said in answer. “But I am the only one who can be trusted to maintain the balance.”

Which meant he had ordered what had been done to Noreen. Her hands curled into fists, and she fought the urge to go for his eyes with her ragged nails.

“Tell me more,” she invited.

“Sometimes my agents don’t screen our employees as they should. We wind up with a few bad apples who are not content to collect their paychecks and do as they’re told.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t happen often. Not with you in charge.”

He smiled again, making the food roil in her stomach. “No. It does not.”

Søren stole along the external balcony. As the old woman had said, the television was ridiculously loud. Sirens blared through the thin walls, along with the sound of gunfire. He studied the door for a few seconds.

The lock was flimsy, easy to defeat, and he entered quietly. Oh, he might’ve kicked the door open, but there was no point in alarming the neighbors. They already had enough to deal with in the form of the violent cop show Travis was watching. Right now a bald, angry-looking policeman was telling some felon to “screw.”

It was a typical motel room, cheap and tawdry. The curtains were drawn, a point in his favor. He slipped up behind the asshole dozing in the vinyl chair. Since leaving the old lady, Søren had dressed for night work, which included a black mask, leather gloves, and a garrote. The mask was more for psychological intimidation than to avoid being identified and arrested. Only Mia knew what he really looked like anyway. The rest of the world saw only what they expected.

With a deft flick of the filament, he had the other man helpless before he awakened fully. His flailing limbs spoke of defiance; it wouldn’t last long. There was nothing like choking to bring home the idea of mortality. Guns had become so commonplace that they’d lost some of their capacity to instill fear, particularly in so jaded a specimen.

No, Søren knew how to handle such slime. He choked the other man out in silence, and then once his body went limp, he swiftly bound him at hands and feet. Travis took five minutes to come around; Søren hadn’t killed him. Yet.

“Where is she?” he whispered.

The cord lay around Travis’s throat like a lethal necklace, a reminder of the pain Søren could inflict on a whim. But this thug was too dumb to take a hint. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Wrong answer, Travis.” He tightened the filament again, nearly to the point of extermination. “Are they paying you so much you’re willing to die for them?”

The other man rubbed his throat as the pressure eased, but the psychological fear was starting to affect him. He still hadn’t seen the face of his assailant. “You’re crazy.”

“As a matter of fact, I am. And if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will kill you. I won’t give you a chance to go for a weapon or throw a punch. You’ll slowly feel yourself choking to death. I hear it’s exquisitely painful. Your eyes will bulge, and your throat will close. And then, once you’ve died, you’ll defecate in your pants. By the time they find your corpse, you’ll be a filthy, stinking bag of maggots.” He paused, tightening the garrote for emphasis. “Now I will give you one last opportunity to cooperate with me.”

The other man’s hands curled into claws, but he was bound fast, unable to help himself. At last he stopped straining, muscles trembling with thwarted exertion. When the filament eased, he choked out, “Stop. Stop! I don’t wanna die. I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.”

Søren maintained his predatory stance behind the larger man. “No, don’t move. Just tell me where she is.”

“I gave her to the boss. As soon as I got in this morning, I arranged a meet.”

Icy rage flooded him. “She’s inside the facility?”

“What facility?”

Never mind, Travis was just a tool. He didn’t know anything of any real use. But perhaps like any good tool, he could be made to serve Søren’s purpose. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still beyond the target’s peripheral vision, and switched the channel to local news.

Ignoring the other man’s whimpers and abortive struggles, he watched in silence. He knew the man would crack. They always did.

“Look, you have to want something.”

Paydirt.

“If you contacted him once, you can do it again.”

“I don’t have his direct number,” Travis whined. “I call a voice mail box, and then he e-mails me the location.”

It sounded like the “boss” was paranoid, rightfully so. There were people out to get him. Søren considered how to handle that information and then he smiled. “Very well. Call the voice mail and tell him you have me in custody. When he gets in touch with you, set up the meet.”

“You can’t make me sit here this whole time. It could be hours, and I have to piss.”

He considered, and he realized Travis was right. He didn’t need him anymore. “Good point. I’ll kill you now, then.”

“Wait! You need me to make the call, right? And answer the e-mail.”

Søren smiled and answered in a near perfect duplication of the man’s nasal tones, “No, I don’t. I only need your phone.”

He plucked the cell from the bedside table and checked the settings. Fortunately, it was clear what number he should dial; it showed up in the recently called list. Then he checked the e-mail. Beautiful. Travis was lazy rather than security conscious. His mail downloaded directly into his smartphone inbox. Søren had everything he needed now.

“I helped you. I cooperated. You can’t do this, it isn’t right.”

Oh, that was entirely the wrong thing to say. Raw fury became a bonfire within him. “Was it right for you to take my woman? Was it right for you to kill Kelly Clark? What about Noreen Daniels? What did you do to her that she wound up looking like that?”

Travis was shaking his head. “I don’t know names. I was just following orders. I don’t have a beef with you. Please, I can pay-”

“I have no need of your blood money, filth. Everything in the world I valued, you have taken. The only thing you can do for me now is die with dignity.”

He strangled Bruce Travis with cold determination. Once he was sure the bastard was dead, he checked his vitals and waited five minutes. There would be no errors here.

With silent amusement, he unbound the man’s hands and arranged him in the closet. With luck, the police would think he’d been indulging in autoerotic asphyxiation, badly gone awry. And if they carefully examined the forensics on a scum-bag like this, there still wouldn’t be anything to tie Søren to the crime. Travis didn’t deserve dignity in death.

Mia had liked Kelly Clark. Søren hadn’t known the woman personally, but he’d seen her in the halls at Micor. She didn’t deserve to die alone, terrified and in agony. Søren wished he could’ve inflicted more pain on Bruce Travis, but that would have required a different setup and more time than he could afford to devote to the endeavor.