When all three were down, Reece pumped out the gas, rolled in a pallet dolly, and wheeled them outside to a concrete ramp, then down to a basement room equipped with surgical lighting, trench drains, and hydraulic tables. Metal shelving held the preferred tools of his trade, not just the scalpels, scissors, and saws, but forceps and towel clamps and organ holders, bone mallets and chisels, curettes and skin hooks and rib spreaders. Reece had trephines and Stryker saws, all kinds of retractors and hemostats. Ironically, he’d never used the room. Like the space upstairs, it was intended for special occasions and special people.

But these men had come, intending harm.

That made them special enough.

When the screaming started, Sara was curled in a corner beside the bed. She thought maybe it was a nightmare, but the sound went on and on, and sounded like a soul being torn apart. She covered her ears, but nothing helped. And when the first scream stopped, another one began.

A different scream, she could tell.

A different scream and a different soul.

For Reece, the first two were mostly mechanical. He took some time, but not as much as he normally might.

The first one, he skinned alive.

The second took four tourniquets and a bone saw.

“Can I assume you’ll answer my questions?”

Reece peered down at the last man living, naked as a newborn, and sheeting sweat as he bucked against the restraints, frantically trying to force words past the ball gag in his mouth.

“I beg your pardon.” Reece leaned close, amused.

But the clock really was ticking.

He removed the gag, and the words poured out. “Anything! I’ll tell you anything you want! But please, please don’t, not like them, dear God, Jesus Christ, not like them…”

Reece waited for the tears and silence. Both came quickly. “I have questions,” he said. “If you answer them for me, you won’t die like, you know…” Reece tipped his head at the dead men on the other tables.

“Anything! Please!”

But Reece shushed him like a child. He already knew the answers. This was more about confirmation. “You came here to kill me?” The man dipped his chin, still sobbing. “X hired you?” Another nod. “Any special instructions?”

“F-fifty thousand. Fifty extra if we … if we…”

“It’s okay,” Reece said. “I asked the question. There is no wrong answer.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Sweat sheeted the man’s face, dripped into his eyes. “Fifty thousand if we made you beg.”

“For my life?”

“For the pain to stop.”

“Ah. I see.” Reece pointed his chin at the dead men on the other tables. “Something like that?”

“He wanted it on film.”

“That explains this.” Reece picked up a video camera he’d found in one of the dead men’s satchels. “How much was the contract?”

“Half a million.”