“I thought it would be good,” she said, “if you had some personal experience of a loss of control over what happens to you, and, particularly, if you experienced a sense of loss over, oh, I don’t know, maybe a body part or two?” She opened her handbag and removed an old-fashioned straight razor.

Stone tried harder to free himself from the stockings and the bedposts, but to no avail.

“You’re wasting your time, my dearest,” she said, daubing the sweat from his brow with a corner of the sheet. “Nylon stockings make excellent restraints; they’re extremely strong, stronger than you, in fact.” She opened the razor, and the blade caught the light.

“There’s a very nice little shop in town,” she said, “that sells men’s shaving products, and they had this very beautiful example of German steelmaking.” She pulled a hair from Stone’s head and let it fall on the blade. It separated into two pieces and fell to the floor.

“It has never been used,” she said, “and it will never be sharper than it is at this moment. Just as well, too, since I didn’t manage to steal a local anesthetic from my captors, only the drug. You’ll hardly feel a thing, just the warm trickle—or rather, gush—of blood as it flows across what I believe the poets call the loins.” She reached out and took hold of the tip of his penis. “Let’s get it excited,” she said. “It makes a better target.” She drew back the hand holding the razor and swung it in a slow arc toward its destination.

Then Stone was screaming, and someone was hammering on the door.

“Stone, open the door!” a woman’s voice called.

Stone was sitting straight up in bed, still dressed in his robe. He stumbled to the door and opened it.

“What’s wrong?” Callie asked, alarmed. “You’ve been screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Dino appeared behind Callie. “You all right, Stone?”

Stone went and sat on the edge of the bed, while Callie got a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and upper body.

“I had a dream,” he panted.

“More like a nightmare,” Callie said.

“Yes, more like a nightmare.”

Chapter 44

44

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, STONE MADE THE CALL HE had been dreading and could no longer postpone.

“Hello, Stone,” Eduardo Bianchi said.

“Good morning, Eduardo. I hope you’re well.”

“I have been better,” Eduardo said, then was silent.

It was up to Stone. “I understand that Dolce has . . . left your house.”

“I am afraid that is so,” Eduardo replied.

“Do you have any idea of where she might be?”

“Stone, my friend, I think she would like to be wherever you are.”

“I’m in Palm Beach, Florida, on business,” Stone said. “Dino is with me, and he feels that Dolce may be in Palm Beach; that she may have been following me.”