There were moments in life when you found yourself totally unprepared. This was such a moment for Special Agent Grangeland. Nothing in her FBI training or competitive athletic background could’ve prepared her for the horror unfolding before her. She found it difficult to watch, but more difficult not to watch. Ernie Bridgestone lay facedown in the sand. Harvey had dragged a large piece of wood over from the dry riverbank and placed it beneath the man’s cuffed hands. He then dragged a second piece over and placed it under Bridgestone’s chin so he wouldn’t inhale sand and choke. She watched in horror as Harvey removed a menacing knife from his ankle sheath and handed it to Nathan. Harvey then placed a knee on Bridgestone’s upper back and applied his full weight. Facing Harvey, Nathan sat on Bridgestone’s legs and grabbed one of his hands. Ernie tried to resist, thrashing about and swearing like a madman, but he was pinned and couldn’t get any leverage.

She watched in abject disbelief as Nathan forced the tip of the knife into Bridgestone’s ring-finger knuckle and shoved, rocking it back and forth as if cutting through a tough piece of steak. She’d never heard a grown man scream bloody murder. She clenched her jaw so tightly her head began to throb. Although Nathan wasn’t actually severing Bridgestone’s fingers, he was coming damned close. Bile rose in her throat as she tried to separate her mind from her body, but the two kept clashing back together. How could she allow this to continue? Surely Director Lansing hadn’t approved what she was watching. What kind of men were these guys? How could they brutally torture another human being with such casual indifference? Was it worth her job, a lifetime’s worth of achievement, to put a stop to this? How could she live with herself knowing she could’ve ended this and didn’t? She looked down in shock and disgust as they started again on the next knuckle up.

* * *

“How does it feel, you piece of shit?” Nathan hissed. “Did you enjoy cutting James Ortega’s fingers off as much as I’m enjoying this? Well, did you?”

In truth, he wasn’t angry and in truth, he didn’t enjoy it, but he wanted Ernie to think he did. He actually found it repulsive, but he needed Ernie to believe otherwise. He hadn’t asked Ernie any questions, nor did he intend to. It was all part of the mind game he was playing.

Nathan pushed the knife.

Bridgestone shrieked in agony. Blood flew from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue. The tortured man whipped his head back and forth, tearing his cheeks on the log.