A printout of the katana sword on the auction Web site. His Privatbank AG account information. A fingerprint card. And a photograph of him sprawled unconscious across the mattress in his bedroom cell, just like those who had preceded him.

He studied the picture of himself, emotions moving in him like dark currents. Then he tore the photo and the fingerprint card into tiny bits and pushed them down a heating vent beneath the desk.

Behind him he heard the door creak open.

Manny shouted, “I got him!”

Keeping his back turned, Evan rose. He gripped the broken pencil.

Footsteps pounded the hall.

“Turn around,” Manny said.

Evan did. “It’s about time,” he said.

Manny stood just inside the threshold, his less-lethal shotgun aimed not at Evan’s face but at his crotch.

“Drop the pencil.”

Evan eyed the angle of the barrel and dropped the pencil.

Nando eased through the doorway, and then the fresh recruits poured past him and spread across the room’s perimeter. Shotguns with neon stocks all around.

They waited.

Heavier footsteps announced Dex’s approach. He broke through the ring and contemplated Evan, snake eyes peering through an expressionless mask. René entered a step behind him. He took in the open file drawer, anger lurking behind that plastic grin.

“I like a challenge,” he said. “But you’re testing my patience.”

Evan said, “And you’re testing mine.”

He stepped back until he felt the desk pressing against his hamstrings. René gave a nod to the men, who closed in on Evan from three sides, leading with their shotguns. Evan looked for any break or opportunity, but there would be none tonight.

Dex strode up to him, a needle flashing in his hand. A well-placed smack spun Evan into the desk, and he felt the pinch above his shoulder blade. Warmth spread beneath his skin, his muscles jellying. As he slipped to the floor, he caught a tilted glance of Dex peering down at him, his head cocked, his expression something between hunger and curiosity.

31. A Hard Man

31

A Hard Man

Evan awoke naked on the floor of his bedroom, blinking into the harsh light of morning. His head throbbed. His mouth was chalky, his throat dryer than it had ever been. A single breath led to a coughing fit.

He started to rise when a ring of fire ignited around his neck.

His body slapped the floor, his muscles twitching against the rustic oak planks. He managed to fight one hand up to the blazing nerves of his throat and felt a metal band clamped into place.

A shock collar.

Behind him he heard Manny laugh. “This is gonna make our job easier, ése. No more getting our arms all tired holding up the shotgun and shit.”

Evan pushed himself onto all fours, managed to get a wobbly foot down beneath him.