The camera jerked upward, and Thomas saw her face. She was bleach-blond, with the pouty-lipped, harem-beauty of a Hollywood starlet. Her right cheek was thrust against her shoulder. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her lips pulled into a pained O.

'Pleeeeaaase,' she gasped.

Her body stiffened. Her face slackened. For a moment, her lips hitched into an Elvis curl. Then she started writhing in ecstasy. Gasps became howls, and for a mad moment, she shrieked, until the tendon-baring intensity strangled the possibility of sound. She convulsed, jerked to the plucking of inner strings.

Then suddenly she was back, whimpering, 'Oh-my-gawd-oh-my-gawd—'

'AGAIN?'

'Oh-please-yes!' Swallow, then, 'Yes-yes-yes-yes!' with every quick breath.

Then she was coming again, and the camera jerked yet farther up.

Thomas exploded from his chair. 'Are you fucking kidding me!'

The woman's braincase had been sawed open. A flea-circus of pins and wires formed a scaffold over the convoluted neural tissue. Lobes glistened in the light.

'Calm down, Mr Bible,' Agent Atta said.

Thomas clutched his scalp, fairly yanked his hair. 'Do you realize I could fucking sue you for showing me this… this… What the fuck is this,'

'WOULD YOU LIKE THE CONTROLS?'

'The disc arrived by mail in Quantico, Virginia, the day before yesterday.'

'So this is your fucking mail? What? You belong to the rape-of-the-month club or something?'

'As far as we can tell,' Shelley Atta said hesitantly, 'the woman in the video was not sexually assaulted.'

'YOU ARE FREE,' the ocean-voice croaked. 'YOU KNOW THIS? YOU MAY LEAVE ANY TIME YOU WISH.'

Thomas clicked pause. An image of the woman biting her lower lip froze on the screen. He found himself looking away, around the claustrophobic confines of his office. The air seemed thick with exhalations. Someone smelled like coleslaw.

'Tell us,' the other woman, Samantha, said, 'do you know the whereabouts of—'

'No,' Thomas interrupted. 'I'm not saying anything until you tell me what this is about. I'm a psychologist, remember? I'm familiar with informal interrogation tactics, and I refuse to cooperate until you stop playing games and tell me just what the fuck is going on.'

Agent Atta scowled at him. Agent Gerard stared blankly at the frozen screen.

'Let me tell you what we do know,' Samantha Logan said. 'According to Biometrics, the woman is Cynthia Powski, or "Cream", a porn starlet from Escondido, California, who was reported missing last month. Our analysts assure us the images are real, and the neurosurgeons we've consulted insist the level of… manipulation depicted is quite possible. What you just witnessed is real, Professor Bible. As bizarre as it sounds, someone is abducting people and screwing with their brains.'

'People?' Thomas asked, his ears buzzing. 'You mean this woman isn't the first?'

Agent Logan nodded.

Suddenly Thomas understood. 'You're looking for a neurosurgeon.'

He thought of the previous night.