by David Archer
“Tell me all that you know about Camelot,” he said again, and part of her wanted to speak, wanted to tell him that the most important thing he could know about Camelot was that he was Death incarnate. Her mouth tried to open, but she clamped it shut and closed her eyes, refusing to speak.
Once more she felt the fingers trailing along her body, this time moving upward. He was dragging them up her inner thigh, and she expected him to touch her most private place, but he pulled his fingers away and ran them along her side again. They came up onto her belly and up between her breasts, and then one finger was thrust into the hollow of her throat.
This time, it wasn’t so much the pain as the fear. The pressure on her windpipe was so great that she began to fear it would collapse, and she had heard stories about people dying in agony with a crushed larynx. The pressure grew, intensified, and she suddenly heard herself begging him to stop.
He released the pressure instantly then gently touched her face. She opened her eyes, blinking furiously to get rid of the tears that had built up behind the lids, and then looked into his face. “Please,” she croaked out, “please stop…”
“Of course, of course,” he said. “I will stop, and all you have to do is tell me about Camelot.”
Sarah’s mouth was working, but no sound was coming out. A part of her wanted to answer him, tell him anything he wanted to know if it would make this ordeal come to an end, but another part of her thought of Noah. The Chinese, she had read, could be ruthless. If they ever learned who he was for sure, they would undoubtedly send their own assassins after him. They were afraid of him, that was obvious, and people who would torture like this would do anything to get rid of something they feared.
She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes again.
There was no gentle caress, this time. She felt his fingers close on her nipples, and he dug his thumbnails into them until she screamed again. He squeezed and squeezed and continued to squeeze, letting minutes pass by as she screamed and wept, but finally he let go. Ironically, the blood rushing back into them hurt even worse than what he had been doing, and she screamed anew.
He waited, then, until the sobbing died down and she started to get her breath under control, and then he peeled back her eyelids and looked into her eyes. “If you tell me now about Camelot, I can stop. If you do not, you should be aware that it is only ten o’clock in the morning. We have many, many hours left in the day, and I will continue until it is time for me to sleep.”
She looked up at him and started to cry again, trying to shake her head from side to side but unable to do so because it was strapped down. “Please…”
“The choice is yours,” he said. She closed her eyes again and sobbed, waiting for whatever he would do next. She heard him turn away and couldn’t resist peeking, but then she wished she had kept her eyes closed. When he turned back to her, he held what looked like bottle caps in his hand, and he laid a dozen or more of them onto her belly. He held one up for her to see, and she realized that they were small candles, not even a quarter of an inch high inside the metal caps, and then he pulled out a lighter. He lit the first candle, the one he had showed her, and set it on her breastbone. She couldn’t see it, but she could smell the burning wick and the wax, as he lit all of the others and set them back onto her skin.
She could guess what was coming. The flame on the wick would melt the wax, and it would get hot. The little metal caps would also grow hot, and that heat would make it to her skin.
She was right. It was only a few minutes later that it began to feel like the flame was directly on her flesh, though she knew it wasn’t. She wanted to try to shake them off, but the thought of the hot, molten wax splashing onto her skin forced her to hold still. The heat built up and built up until it was unbearable, and then she screamed again. It wasn’t as loud as before, because her voice was giving out.
It took nearly 20 minutes for the little candles to burn out, and she could imagine the burns and blisters on her skin. She had never felt such pain in her life, and even wondered how she had managed not to die of shock while they burned. When they finally went out, she watched him as he picked them up, one at a time, and dropped them into a metal cup.
He looked into her eyes once again. “Tell me everything you know about Camelot,” he said.
Sarah closed her eyes and waited for the next agony to come. She didn’t wait long; each time he asked the question, an entirely new kind of pain would assault her only moments later.
He picked up something from the shelf behind him, and held it up for her to see. It was a plastic envelope, and it was full of large needles that appeared to be several inches long. Each one had a small pearlescent knob on one end, and she watched as he pulled one out and lowered it toward her body. She couldn’t see where he was going with it, but suddenly she felt it. The tip of the needle touched her skin just over her solar plexus, and he began applying pressure slowly. It was just a sting, she thought, not that bad, but then she felt a pop as it broke through the skin and the underlying tissue. The needle’s tip touched the nerves of her solar plexus, and her body went into what could only be considered a seizure.
Sarah couldn’t feel anything for a moment or two, but then all the sensations came back. He had another needle in his hand, and he jabbed it suddenly into the center of her left nipple. Another went into the right nipple, and then she felt needles being driven into her belly, between her ribs, everywhere he could think to put one. There were at least two dozen of them, and if she rolled her eyes downward she could see many of the little pearl heads. She could feel each and every one, a stinging agony that was multiplied over and over, but then he reached out his hand and brushed along the tops of them all, and it felt like she had 100 tiny chainsaws cutting away just under her skin.
She blacked out, then, and when she regained consciousness, he had removed all of the needles. He was simply standing there, looking down at her face, and then he saw that her eyes were open.
“Tell me all that you know about the man known as Camelot,” he said.
“I will,” she managed to whisper. “I will…”
Xiao smiled at her and leaned closer to her face. “Tell me about him,” he said again.
Sarah tried to nod, but her head was still strapped down. She looked up into his eyes and said, “Camelot—Camelot—he’s the most dangerous man alive…”
Xiao scowled at her. “Tell me who he is,” he said, “or I will continue.”
“Okay, okay,” she whispered. “I’ll—I’ll tell you—he’s—he’s the man who is going to kill you…” Her voice began to grow louder, more shrill, as all the pain and rage she had felt so far boiled up out of her into the most devastating curse she could imagine. “Camelot—you want to know about Camelot—Camelot is Death, he is Death incarnate, and he—is—coming—for—you!”
Xiao’s face contorted for a moment, and she actually hoped that she had pushed him over the edge, that he would simply kill her now and be done with it, but she saw him force himself back under control. He leaned back away from her and looked her over again, then turned around and picked something up. She couldn’t see what it was, but he moved down the table toward her feet, and it was all she could do to wait. Her breath was ragged, her heart was racing, and then suddenly there was a white hot fire across the soles of both feet. A second later it came again, and then again, and then it was coming so fast that it seemed like they were being beaten by a machine. The thin metal rod he was using was thick enough not to cut the skin, and stiff enough to bruise the muscles underneath.
Sarah screamed.
TWENTY-ONE
Noah awoke again at just after nine, and looked out the window. The sky was heavily overcast, and there was a heavy feeling in the air. He didn’t normally pay a lot of attention to the weather, but something about the darkness, almost like night trying to encroach upon the day, made him want to get up and do something.
“Hey,” he said loudly, “wake up. It’s morning, thou
gh you might not believe it.”
Neil, who was still in his clothes from the night before, sat up and looked at him. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess I needed the sleep.”
“We all did,” Marco rumbled. He tossed off his blanket and rolled himself up to a sitting position, then took a look out the window. “Damn, is it an eclipse?”
“No, just clouds.” Noah looked around and picked up the remote for the television, turned it on, and found a channel showing a weather report. The weatherman was speaking Chinese, but it was captioned in English, as he explained that the clouds were expected to linger throughout the day, resulting in a thunderstorm in the late afternoon.
Noah looked out the window again, then reached for his phone. He dialed the number McDermott had given him and waited. When it was answered, he asked to speak to McDermott himself, and the man came on the line a moment later.
“Ross Duncan,” Noah said. “I’m thinking about stepping up my timetable. You said you had some helpers I could use?”
“Sure do,” McDermott said. “How soon you want them?”
“We’ll be ready in an hour. Can you have them meet me out front?”
“No problem,” came the reply. “Look for our delivery van, the same one we brought the motorcycles in last night.”
“Sounds good,” Noah said, and then he ended the call. He looked around at Neil and Marco. “Get yourselves awake,” he said. “We’re going after Sarah this morning.”
Marco looked at him, and seemed confused. “In broad daylight?”
“That doesn’t look like broad daylight to me,” Noah said. “Something about that sky makes me want to get her out of there. I don’t want to wait until tonight.”
Marco made a sleepy grimace. “You’re the boss,” he said. “If you want to move that quick, I’m not even gonna worry about a shower. Just going to get all sweaty, anyway, might as well wait till later.”
“What about breakfast?” Neil asked.
“There's a McDonald’s downstairs,” Noah said. “I’m sure they’ve got something you can eat.”
Noah and Marco each hit the bathroom, then got dressed while Neil took his turn. Ten minutes later they walked out the door of the room, saddlebags and helmets in hand. They rode down the elevator and went directly into the McDonald’s that was just outside the front door, and Marco watched all their gear while Noah and Neil went to pick up their food.
By the time they finished eating, the truck had arrived and was parked just outside. Noah walked up to it and saw that McDermott himself was driving.
“You sure you want to be in on this?” Noah asked.
“Standard procedure on this type of thing,” McDermott said. “I’ll drive, and man the truck while y’all do your thing. I took a look at a satellite map this morning, and I got a good idea where to park this rig while I wait. You want to ride with us?”
Noah glanced at the motorcycles, then looked up at the sky again. “I think we should,” he said. The three of them walked around to the back door and it swung open, and they climbed inside to find eight men dressed in combat gear and carrying the same submachine guns McDermott had given them.
The door closed, and the truck moved out. Noah walked up to the front and leaned into the cab.
“How close is your parking spot to where the trail crosses the road?”
“Quarter-mile,” McDermott said. “The way I got it figured, you’ll be able to jump out the back of the truck and move into the woods, then it should be about another half-mile to the estate. By the way, lean back in there and holler for Jonesy.”
Noah pulled back and looked around. “Who is Jonesy?”
A young black man sitting just behind the cab raised his hand. “That’s me,” he said. Noah suddenly noticed that he was wearing a vest with a lot of pockets.
Noah looked back at McDermott. “Jonesy,” McDermott said, “is a very talented young man. All that extra gear he’s carrying is to make sure nobody inside can call for help. There’s no landline phone into the place, but it has a satellite uplink and there are two cell towers within range, so Jonesy is going to put them out of commission. He’s got the neatest little gadgets that will send a signal full of pure rubbish to any cell phone or satellite receiver within half a mile. All he’s got to do is hang ’em on a tree and turn them on.”
“Glad you brought him along,” Noah said. “The last thing we need is for them to get reinforcements.”
The ride took about forty minutes, simply because the truck couldn’t take all the curves the way the motorcycles could, but finally they pulled up and parked at the spot McDermott had chosen. He and Noah watched in the mirrors and out the windshield for a moment to be sure there was no other traffic coming, and then all of them spilled out the back doors and hurried across the road into the forest. They went far enough in to be out of sight from the road, then stopped.
“Who’s your unit commander?” Noah asked, and one of the men stepped forward.
“Davidson,” he said. “I run the squad. You tell me what you want us to do, and we’ll do it.”
Noah reached out and shook his hand. “We’re going wide,” he said. “There are a few men likely to be scattered around in the forest, and we want to neutralize them as quickly as possible. When we get to the house, you will find one soldier on guard on each side, but there are more inside the building. I want to hit them hard and fast.” He pointed at Marco. “He and I will be going inside as soon as possible. The tall skinny kid needs to cover our six when we do, but I wouldn’t mind if a couple of your boys follow us in.”
Davidson looked around at his men. “Morgan, Lewis,” he called out. “You guys shadow these two,” he said, indicating Noah and Marco. He looked at Neil. “Do you know how to handle that weapon?” he asked.
Neil looked at the gun in his hands, then looked up. “It’s a little different from what I’m used to, but they all work pretty much the same.”
Davidson nodded. “Okay, but I get the feeling your boss wants you out of the line of fire as much as possible. When he gets ready to make his move, why don’t you hang back with us?”
Neil looked at him and nodded, and they all started moving. Davidson sent four men to move around the front of the property, while he and the rest followed Noah. Noah took them along the same general route he and Marco and Neil had used the night before, and they hadn’t gone 200 yards before they spotted the first of the patrol guards.
The man was about 100 yards away, walking nonchalantly through the woods as if there were no possibility of anyone being within a mile of him. Davidson pointed to one of his men, then swept his hand around to point at the guard. The man he had indicated stepped forward silently, dropped to one knee and raised his weapon. The gun made a coughing sound, and the guard dropped like a stone.
They moved up quietly to where the soldier had fallen, and Noah saw that the shot had blown out the back of his skull. The man had died instantly, and hadn’t even made a sound. They checked him over and found a radio, a simple walkie-talkie style. Davidson took it and shoved it into a pocket.
“I speak Mandarin,” he whispered. “If they call this guy and he doesn’t answer, things could get nasty in a hurry.”
Noah nodded, and they moved out again. Ten minutes later they found another man on patrol, and he met the same fate as his compatriot. His radio was taken and shoved into another of Davidson’s pockets, and they moved on.
Thirty minutes later, they encountered the other group coming toward them. They had also taken out two of the guards, but had not seen any others.
“Maybe they didn’t feel the need for so many men on patrol during the day,” Noah said. “Now we’ve got the four men up close to the house to deal with, but we’re not going to be able to get that close to them. Jonesy, you got your toys set up yet?”
Jonesy grinned. “Try making a phone call,” he said.
“Okay. Then let’s get ourselves into position around the building. If we can put a couple of men on each side,
hidden in the trees, then we can hit all four of them at once. As soon as they are down—”
Davidson interrupted him. “How about this? Your idea is going to alert whoever’s inside, and we don’t want to do that until the last possible moment.” He turned and motioned for one man to come toward him, a short, thin fellow. “This is Wendell Liu, about as Chinese as anybody they got here except he grew up in Chicago. Those guys aren’t dressed much different than we are, so how about if Wendell takes himself a stroll right up to the man we can see from here and puts him down? That’ll give you guys a clear field to the house, and then we can move around it and take out one of them at a time. Nice and quiet, nobody the wiser.”
“I like it,” Noah said.
Davidson reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the radios, then handed it to Wendell. “Wave it like it’s not working,” he said. Wendell took it, then moved off to the left a dozen yards before standing up straight and walking toward the house.
The guard by the wall spotted him almost instantly, and Wendell held up the radio and shook it. The guard kept his weapon pointed downward as Wendell approached, but just as Wendell got close enough to be out of sight from either end of the house, the guard appeared to become suspicious. He took a couple of steps toward Wendell and started to raise the muzzle of his weapon, but Wendell was quicker. There was a burst of smoke from his silencer, and the guard fell flat.
Noah, Marco and their two shadows broke into a low run and hurried to the house. Noah and Marco went toward the front, while Wendell and the other two started around the back. Wendell stepped around the corner and fired once, then took off at a jog. The other two men followed him, while Noah leaned out to look around the corner at the front of the house. There was one guard on duty there, as well, and Noah flipped the selector on his gun to single-fire and squeezed the trigger once. The guard dropped, and Noah and Marco stayed close to the wall as they hurried toward the front door.
A moment later, Wendell and the other two men came from the other side and flanked the door. Noah and Marco stood and started up the steps, and that’s when they heard the scream. Noah took two more steps and kicked the door, and it flew open. A dozen feet down the hall, two men turned to see what was going on, and Noah’s gun coughed twice more. Both of them went down, and then Noah and Marco rushed inside, followed by the other two. Wendell stayed just outside the front door, ready to cover them from the rear if they had missed anyone.
