“You remember how we started,” Rien said. Gary nodded. “Alright. Now, then.”
“It’s a mistake,” Gary said. His voice was ragged and wet, and when he talked I could see his cheek muscles contracting along his jawline. “I’m part of the witness protection program. With the FBI.”
What? Behind the gag, I shrieked. What the hell was he talking about? FBI? He had lied to me, too! This was insane. Absolutely insane.
“We had a police escort here,” Gary continued. The corner of his mouth, or what was left of it, leaked blood. He sounded calm, calmer than I would have been if someone had cut up half of my face and peeled it off like a fruit rollup. “Then I was going to go straight to the airport and fly to Brazil under a new alias.”
His breathing was hard, labored, the words forced. His bare eye rolled toward me, then back to Rien. A shudder ran down my spine.
“Susan was going to come join me a week later, after her surgery.”
I shook my head wildly. No! I’m not Susan!
“So you see, this must all be a misunderstanding,” Gary said.
“Misunderstanding. Hmm,” the doctor said. He glanced over at me, then back to Gary. Lifting the scalpel, he placed the point directly on Gary’s chest.
“Please! It’s true! The police are coming back for us in a few hours!”
The muscle above his eyeball jumped, and I realized that he was trying to blink with an eyelid that wasn’t attached to him anymore. Bile rose in my throat, and I held back my retching. If I threw up, I’d choke to death on it.
“Are they? Tell me, Mr. Steadhill, what crimes did you get away with when you made your deal with the FBI?”
The doctor—Rien—stood very still, his hand poised with the scalpel on Gary’s chest.
“I—I’m not a criminal,” Gary stammered.
The scalpel pressed down and I could see blood leaking from both sides. Gary screamed aloud.
“Stop! Stop! Please stop!”
“Only if you tell me the truth. Once again, then. What crimes were you convicted of before you squealed on someone else?”
“Aghhh! Stop! Alright! I’ll tell you! Cor—corporate espionage. We sent people in to other companies. Sabotaged factories.”
I flailed my head from side to side. Why did he keep saying we? I didn’t do any of this shit!
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“What else?” The scalpel slid down his chest, and I could hear the slicing noise as the skin tore under the blade.
“AHHHHHH! Mmm—manslaughter. Criminal negligence.” His teeth were chattering, and I could see his jawbone through the blood.
I clenched my eyes shut. Dear God, who was this man?
“How many deaths were you responsible for, the both of you?”
I opened my eyes then and stared at Rien, locking eyes with him. I shook my head slowly from one side to the other. No. I didn’t kill anyone. He stared back at me with a curious expression on his face, then tilted his head towards Gary.
“Mr. Steadhill?”
“Two hundred sixty. But it wasn’t our fault. The sabotage went wrong! It was a mistake—”
“Yes,” Rien said. “A mistake. There seem to be lots of mistakes around here.”
He stepped back and walked around to the foot of the operating table.
“Let me tell you one other mistake you made, Mr. Steadhill. You didn’t tell anyone in your life that you were going into the witness protection program, did you? No, of course you didn’t. That’s part of the witness protection program.”
Gary’s teeth chattered more. Pus leaked from below his reddened eye.
“And the United States of America, in their generosity, decided to give you a new life in another country. They told you to come to me for a new face, and then you would fly to Brazil for a new life. Is that right? They told you everything would be taken care of, didn’t they?”
A chill swept over my body as I realized what Rien was saying. He glanced over my way as though he could read my thoughts.
“Unfortunately for you and your wife, Mr. Steadhill, the U.S. government doesn’t really care that much for corporate saboteurs, especially those who get innocent citizens killed.”
“We gave them information,” Gary said. “They said—”
“They said whatever they needed to say to get you here. Sorry to tell you that your car won’t be coming back for you this evening. The United States has washed its hands of you, Mr. Steadhill. They have sent you on a snipe hunt. There are no plane tickets to Brazil. There is no new identity for you or your wife.”
“But—but—”
“There’s only me. Understand that? And now… you’re mine.”