He traced the blade down the contours of the man’s face to his lips. A thin line of blood appeared across his cheek, a sinister red rainbow.

‘Open your mouth.’

He kept his lips together.

‘I said open your mouth.’

The man’s lips quivered like two fat worms exposed to sunlight. He slipped the scalpel into the man’s mouth.

‘Can you taste that? That’s the taste of your own blood. The taste of your fear. I suppose you thought it would always be you dealing it out. Well, how does it feel to take it? I bet you thought that you would never feel afraid, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’

I suppose you thought that you would never feel afraid, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’

The man in the chair nodded.

‘I’ve got to say that I find what you did despicable. Inhuman. So I’m going to do my duty and see if I can try and reform you. You know what they say? You have to be cruel to be kind.’

He took the scalpel out of the man’s mouth and checked the vice. He wouldn’t want any nasty accidents. And what about the blood? He could use those tissues. He took out a few and spread them around the vice.

‘Okay, here we go.’

The point of the scalpel entered the man’s finger just below the nail bed. A scream split the air.

‘Do you understand now?’ he said. ‘It’s not particularly nice, is it? You look ill, feverish. Do you feel sick? It’s the pain, you see. I gave the girl something for that, but I think I’ll let you endure it. It’ll be good for you.’

He pushed the scalpel downwards and then sideways, working the blade with an efficient manner. Just as the fingertip was nearly sliced off the man in the chair vomited over himself.

‘Now you’ve gotten yourself all dirty. I suppose it’s the evil in you coming out.’

With one final cut the tip of the finger fell forwards in a pool of blood. He was careful not to touch it, but picked it up with the end of his scalpel like one of those fancy canapés he’d seen at a buffet. He mopped up the blood with the tissues and then took a fresh one from the box and dropped the end of the finger into it. By his feet was a padded envelope. He scrunched up the tissue and then pushed it inside the package. On the front of the envelope was an address. Earlier that day he’d been to a Kinko’s downtown and typed the details into a computer, printed them off and taped them to the envelope. Everything was in order. That was his motto. If only everyone lived by it. Then the world wouldn’t be such a wicked place. There’d be no crime. No perversion. No filth. He was only trying to do his bit to clean things up. Yes, he truly was doing the Lord’s work on earth. He’d saved that sweet blind girl from this monster. Surely he’d be rewarded in Heaven for that.

He looked down at the pitiful creature in the chair, gobbits of vomit coagulating on his lap. This pathetic instrument of Lucifer. He had battled Satan and won. He was victorious.

He could easily kill him. But it would be too neat. Too simple. But Satan’s messenger had not suffered enough, not for all the terrible things he had done. He hadn’t experienced nearly enough fear. This guy needed to feel what it was like to be hunted. To find himself prey. Well, he had a plan in place.

‘I haven’t finished with you yet,’ he said. ‘Oh my Lord, no.’

As he peeled back the seal on the envelope and pressed down along its rim he looked at the name and address on the label. He smiled to himself, a wave of satisfaction surging within him. Sometimes it felt so great to be alive.

‘This is where the fun starts.’

47

Cassie tried to swallow, but her mouth felt like sandpaper. She was disoriented, dizzy. And any second she was going to be sick. She knew something awful had happened to her. It loomed at the back of her consciousness like a strangely-shaped shadow. But each time she tried to confront it – to try and identify it - the blackness descended.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

‘Cassie, it’s Kate. You’re in hospital, Cedars-Sinai. You’re going to be okay.’

‘I know something awful happened, but I can’t remember’. Her voice was nothing but a whisper. ‘What happened?’

‘We’ve got no idea. In fact, we thought you might be able to tell us.’

‘What do you mean?’

Kate took a deep breath and turned to face Josh. He moved a step closer towards the bed.

‘Well, we know that someone took you. In a cab,’ he said. ‘From your injuries it looks like you have suffered some kind of assault. You’ve got some cuts to your fingers, and a lesion and bruising on your shoulder. The medics say that someone administered some kind of drug, a painkiller.’

In that instant, she remembered being in a room. The pain of something crushing her finger. Then something slicing into it. There was the smell of oil. And then she recalled the feel of the man’s face.

‘It was Gleason.’

Kate and Josh both spoke at once.

‘What –‘

‘But that’s impossible.’

‘I felt his face. It was him. The square face, high forehead, it was the same face, but –‘

‘Are you sure?’ said Kate. ‘There are lots of men out there with the same facial structure.’

‘It wasn’t only that. It was his voice. It wasn’t quite the same as before, but I’d have known it anywhere.’

‘You’ve only just woken up from a traumatic experience,’ said Josh. ‘And what with the drugs –‘

‘Listen – it was him.’ She paused, trying to transfer the feel of his face into words. ‘Or almost him. I don’t know how to explain –‘

‘It’s okay, Cassie,’ said Kate, stroking her hair. ‘When you’re feeling better we can work on a facial reconstruction together. Okay?’ Cassie nodded. ‘But can you remember anything else we can work on now? Anything else about this guy?’

‘He took me into a carport. It smelt of cars, oil, something awful, decaying. I don’t know where we were. I nearly got away, under the door, but I was too slow. And he hit me with something, a chain I think, here –‘ As her bandaged fingers drifted up towards her shoulder she winced in pain. ‘He told me that he was the one who sent me that present. And that he wanted to make it a reality.’