He removed the elastic band securing his black ponytail and shook his hair out. Hazel eyes complemented a light Hispanic complexion. Nearly fifty, Montez could still turn young women’s heads, and frequently did.

Tonight’s interrogation had concluded with solid results. He’d finally broken his latest subject and gleaned valuable information. In the living room he made an encrypted call, relayed the info he’d just obtained, and scheduled a disposal. The call ended abruptly and left him somewhat irritated. He didn’t like his contact at all. Apparently, no new subject would be forthcoming this week. No matter, he told himself. He’d use the break to do some reading.

Montez retrieved his Heckler & Koch P30 from the study and headed for the upper basement door. At the bottom of the stairs he opened a second door and was assaulted by the noxious smell of blood mixed with a homeless stench. Disgusting, but understandable. He didn’t hold it against the man. It wasn’t his fault. Part of breaking a subject involved denying all semblance of hygiene.

He reached inside the concrete chamber and snapped on the light.

The floor, walls, and ceiling were covered with polyurethane plastic, the kind painters used to protect furniture. Spattered blood patterns testified to what his subject had endured over the last three days. He removed his shoes and stepped into a pair of cheap slippers. The remains of a slaughtered animal lay in the corner of the room, its sightless eyes cloudy. A video camera mounted on a tripod loomed in the opposite corner.

Secured in a bloodstained chair, his subject moaned but didn’t open his eyes.

“It is over,” Montez said. “You offered a noble fight and need not feel shame. I am going to unbind you. If you resist or try to attack me, I will bury you with the carcass. You will be forever entombed with it.”

Giving this subject the respect he deserved involved a certain degree of risk. In order for the prayer to be performed properly, the man would have to be freed from the chair, but Montez would not release him without a bodyguard present. Though his captive didn’t seem to have any energy left, Montez always played it safe. Subjects in this condition were unpredictable. Two years ago, he’d dropped his guard with a female captive. The deep oval scar on his left forearm was all the reminder he needed. As punishment, he’d removed all of the vicious woman’s teeth, all of them, with a pair of pliers. Her high-pitched screaming had been hideous, but an example was needed. Many times since, Montez had used the video of the tooth extractions to show his subjects the price of defiance.

“I will return in a few minutes. Prepare yourself.”

***