Delicately, he drew a circle around Mercedes’ mouth, and in his open palm he caught his mother-in-law’s lips and teeth. Then he cauterized the wound. Mercedes’ screams and those of the caged children were deafening, but he went on with his work. He licked each tooth clean and chewed the lips before Mercedes’ bulging eyes. She was no longer suffering, because when the wound was closed the pain disappeared. The scars of the wounds Juan made never had the tenderness of a recent injury; they were hard and old. Then he brought Mercedes’ face to his and used his tongue to clean away all the blood on her chin and neck. When he finished, he threw her to the floor.

“I should cut off the hand you hit my son with. It’s nothing to you, is it? But with this”—and he opened his hand to show her the shining teeth, somewhat spoiled by tobacco stains and lead fillings—“I have enough material to keep you from ever touching him again, or even trying to. I can also use these to control you and hurt you in other ways.”

Mercedes grunted. With her bare gums and dark glasses, she looked ridiculous, grotesque. Juan had nothing else to say to her. He left and closed the door behind him: he locked it using another sign that some members of the Order, certainly Florence, would be able to recognize and reverse. But not immediately. Mercedes would be locked in for a long time, listening to her pets die as she wandered that ghoulish tunnel, choking on the stench of shit and decomposing children. It didn’t matter. They had won and he didn’t have much time, but now he knew what he wanted to know. They couldn’t deceive him anymore.

Juan packed his bag calmly and told Stephen he was ready to go to the airport. He couldn’t drive on his own this time: the bodyguards were already on top of him and he couldn’t escape them. He was having trouble breathing, and a constant, annoying cough was growing worse as the hours passed.

Mercedes still hadn’t asked to be rescued from the tunnel. She was proud. Juan wanted to go before Florence found out about his little meeting with his mother-in-law. Gaspar was awake and dressed and sitting on the bed, waiting. Since he’d found out they were flying back he’d been excited but quiet, nervous. You’re scared, ha ha, Gaspar is afraid the plane will crash, Juan had teased him, and his son had hit him with his fists, pretending to be mad.