He sighed to himself and took another swig of mineral water. At least that was pure. He was as clean inside as he was out, without spot or stain or sin. He was careful not to ingest anything full of nasty chemicals or toxins. He didn’t touch coffee, alcohol, junk food, sugary drinks, anything processed. He liked nature and natural things. Farmer’s markets. Organic fruits and vegetables. Pulses and grains. Nettle tea. Good wholesome cuts of meat. He didn’t trust fish, as you never knew what got spilt into the ocean. His stomach turned as he thought of the kind of filth that floated in the sea. The scum on the waves just reflected the scum on land. Dirt-bags like Raymond Cutler, the lowest of human pond life.

To the outside world he looked kind of normal. A clean-cut guy, well-built, mid-forties. Divorced. With a couple of kids who lived with their mom. A hard-working executive with a steady job in one of the banks in Century City and a home in Westchester West. But what nobody knew – except a few of his sick buddies - was that Raymond liked little girls. Late at night, home alone, Raymond loved nothing better than to search the internet for images of cutesy-looking girls in various explicit poses. Bending over, showing their assholes. Opening their legs to reveal their vaginas. On all fours being penetrated by one man orally and another from behind. They were some of the less disgusting ones. He didn’t like to think of some of the other photographs that Raymond downloaded. Those pictures of tiny children, babies even.

He swigged some more mineral water, trying not to let those images dirty his brain. He had to remain clean, above it all. He closed his eyes for a moment and took some deep breaths. Meditation was good for clearing one’s mind, protecting oneself from the polluting effect of those around you. After a few minutes he felt he had centred himself, ready for the job in hand, a task that had to be done.

At four a.m. – the time the two men had agreed – a light came on in one of the rooms inside Raymond’s house. It was the sign he had been waiting for. He got out of the car, took a black satchel out of the trunk and put on a pair of gloves. He walked down the driveway, past the neatly clipped lawn and up to Raymond’s front porch. He didn’t need to knock or ring, as Raymond was already standing there, the door open for him.

The house was neat, functional, bare of personal possessions. The typical rented home of a newly-divorced dad.

‘Have you got it?’ asked Raymond, almost whispering, as he closed the door.

‘Sure, and it’s something you’re gonna really enjoy,’ he said.

‘Yeah?’ said Raymond, licking his lips. ‘This way.’

Raymond led him down a corridor, past a bathroom, to a small study at the back of the house. In the far corner was a desk, on which stood a PC. He noticed that the screen saver was a picture of two kids – a boy and a girl, Raymond’s kids. Could Raymond not see what was staring him in the face? The sickness of it all? How could he look at the picture of his children one minute and the next, at the click of a mouse, stare at the obscene images of somebody else’s kids. He felt the anger rising inside him, but he had to control it, hold it in check just for a few more minutes.

‘Here you are,’ he said, handing Raymond a DVD. ‘Your little piece of paradise.’

‘I’ll get you something in return next couple of weeks, promise,’ said Raymond, beads of sweat breaking out over his forehead.

‘I’ll just hang around to make sure it works,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a couple of instances where there have been some glitches. Pixelation. Freezing. Don’t know why.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Raymond, placing the DVD into the computer.

The machine made a whirring noise, a sound that Raymond had come to associate with the delights of anticipation. He hoped the disc worked okay. He couldn’t wait until he was left alone. The thought of it left his mouth dry. A five-year-old girl with five different men.

‘Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it,’ said Raymond, as he watched the screen come to life. ‘And great that us guys can stick together. Online you never know who’s out there snooping. Cops, feds, whatever.’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he said. ‘Best if we keep this amongst ourselves. A select few.’

‘Is this okay? Is there a problem?’ said Raymond, leaning over the desk to look at the computer. ‘It seems like the disc is stuck or something.’

‘Try pressing control, return and shift all at the same time. That should fix it.’

As Raymond’s fingers hovered over the keyboard he felt something prick his arm.

‘Hey – what the fuck –‘ he said. He tried to form more words – then he tried to shout, to scream – but nothing. It was like his throat and voice box had been paralysed. He looked at the man next to him, implored him to help, but he just stood there, smiling. Had he had a stroke? What was that other thing he had seen on the medical channel the other day? An aneurysm? A blood clot? He tried to reach out to his friend, but found that he could not move his arm. Then the man took hold of his shoulders and sat him down on the chair in front of the desk. He was going to help him. He would know something had gone wrong, he’d call 911 and get him into see a medic. He had medical insurance – his company had a great plan – so that wouldn’t be a problem. His friend would be wise enough to take out the disc from the computer. He wouldn’t want to be found with that kind of material on him, would he?

He looked at the man standing before him, but it was hard to focus on him. His body felt like jello, sort of numb all over.

‘This way,’ said the stranger, taking the disc out of the computer. ‘We don’t want to leave a mess, do we?’

He heaved him out of the chair and supported him as he manoeuvred him out of the study. He was taking care of him, after all, thought Raymond. Making sure he visited the bathroom before the ambulance turned up.

‘Okay, Raymond, this way,’ he said. ‘Just sit down in here while I get the rest of my stuff.’

Why was he sliding him into the bath? He only needed to pee, for god’s sake. Nothing more than that. Where was he going? Was he calling 911? But he couldn’t hear his voice.

The man came back into the room carrying his rucksack, out of which he took what looked like a case for spectacles or some kind of slimline camera. He must have one of those fancy new mobiles, thought Raymond, with email, internet, MP3 and camera all in one. As his friend opened the case, Raymond saw a flash of reflected light. He tried to focus on the object in the case, but it kept slipping out of view. As the man walked towards him Raymond realised his friend was carrying a scalpel.

Again, Raymond tried to scream, but no matter how hard he tried he could not utter a sound.