Tuesday 4 August, 10.30 A.M.

Ken Sweeney pulled on a pair of gloves as he descended the stairs to his basement at a leisurely stroll, stopping in front of his guests. The three Anderses were tied to chairs, blindfolded and gagged. Their clothes were ripped, their hair disheveled.

Burton and Decker stood behind the trio, looking annoyed.

'Delivered,' Burton said. 'Just as you ordered, sir.' The former cop touched his torn face gingerly. 'Mostly unmarked.'

'Good. Where is the wounded guard?'

'Still in the van,' Decker said. 'Anders shot him with a low-caliber bullet, so it could have been worse. I stopped the blood flow, but I need to get a few supplies to stitch him up. We weren't sure where you'd want him to convalesce. He'll need at least a few days off the leg.'

'Take him to one of the spare rooms on the second floor,' Ken said. 'There are clean towels in the linen closet. You should find all the first aid supplies you need on the top shelf.'

'And then?' Burton asked stiffly.

Ken glanced at his phone. Alice had texted him ten minutes before that she'd found Reuben's car in the airport hotel's parking lot, but so far nothing more. 'The tow service I sent to pick up Reuben's car hasn't yet arrived. When it does, the car will be brought here. You can conduct your forensic examination in the garage. It's quite large, I assure you. You'll have plenty of room. For now, I have another assignment for you.' He handed Burton a sheet of paper. 'Go to this address. Bring the woman of the house to me. Unharmed.' Ken suspected that Miriam would know Burton from his years on the police force and would trust him. 'Ensure that she comes willingly. I'd recommend not telling her where she's going,' he added dryly.

Ken watched recognition flicker in Burton's eyes, followed closely by something that looked like rage. Burton was quiet a long moment, his lips pursed tightly, before giving a single curt nod and turning on his heel.

Yeah, there was some kind of a relationship there, at a minimum. He'd have to watch Burton closely to determine where the man's loyalties lay. With Reuben or with me?

Ken pointed to Decker, who stood looking perplexed. 'Treat Burton's face first, then tend to the guard with the gunshot wound. And then come back down here.' Taking the noose he'd fashioned out of coarse twine from the table behind him, he stepped up to Anders's wife, Marlene, and tipped her chin up so that he could slide the noose over her head, making sure he pulled the knot over the hard line of her jaw as he did so. Leaving the noose hanging around her neck, he glanced back at Decker. 'I may need you for some heavy lifting.'

A muted whimper came from Marlene's throat, making him smile. Torture was more effective when the subject was blindfolded, but he wanted to be able to see their eyes while he questioned them. Part of him hoped they'd fold quickly, because he was pressed for time, but another part hoped they'd hold out at least a little while. It had been too long since he'd had a good torture session. He hoped he hadn't become too rusty.

'Go,' he said to Decker. 'Leave us alone. We'll be fine.'

Ken waited until the door at the top of the stairs closed, then clapped his hands briskly.

'All right, Anders,' he said. 'We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your call.'

He removed their blindfolds, first Chip's, then Marlene's, then finally the one on the little wildcat who'd raked Burton's face. 'Oh my dear, you are very pretty,' he said quietly, stroking a finger lightly down her cheek, gratified when the girl's eyes widened in terror. A glance to her right to the noose around Mommy's neck had her mewling, her terror jacked higher.

He walked over to Chip. 'I want to know what the hell happened in your household. First things first. Tell me why you allowed one of your servants out of the house last night.'

Chip shook his head hard, his grunts sounding like denial.

Ken ripped the duct tape from the man's mouth, causing Chip to cry out in pain. Ken laughed. 'You think that hurt? We haven't even begun.' He pushed the cart covered with tools close enough so that the three Anderses could see its contents knives of various lengths and sharpness, a selection of scalpels, tweezers, a length of wire with electrodes on one end.

Three pairs of eyes grew large as saucers.

Ken took tweezers from the cart and pulled out the cotton balled up in Chip's mouth. Shaking it out, he saw it was a handkerchief, monogrammed with Chip's initials.

Chip coughed hoarsely. 'Water.'

Ken fed him a small cup from the pitcher that was also on the table. 'Answer my questions. And don't say you don't know. I don't want to hear that.'

Temper flashed in Chip's eyes. 'Too damn bad, because that's the truth. I didn't know she was gone until the alarm went off this morning. We don't know how she got out or what she was doing wherever she was when she got herself shot. Probably turning tricks.' His weak chin lifted defiantly. 'You have no right to drag us here. Let us go now and we won't report you.'

Ken laughed when Marlene's eyes narrowed. 'Somehow I don't think your lovely wife agrees.' He leaned one hip against the cart, sobering. 'You're trying to tell me that you haven't listened to the tapes yet? Because I have.' Well not all, not yet anyway. But enough to know that his property was in the damn morgue in the hands of CPD.

Chip's eyes blazed. 'How did you . . . how did you . . .' he sputtered furiously. 'You can listen, too? You can listen, too? That means you've been listening to my family for three years? To my private-'

Ken slapped Chip's face. Hard. So hard the chair teetered for a moment. He waited until the chair had decided to stay upright before answering. 'Yes, Chip.' He popped the 'p', rolling his eyes. What a ridiculous name for a grown man. 'I can listen to any private moment that you have in the range of one of the tracking devices I've supplied. However, I don't. I don't care what you do with the property I sell you as long as you follow the rules. You did not follow the rules. When you break my rules, I reserve the right to listen to anything still in my recorded library.' He raised a brow at the look of sheer terror that passed over the face of Anders's pretty daughter.

Bingo, Ken thought. Someone has been very naughty. This might have been fun except for the fact that three of his assets had escaped. One was dead, her tracker now in the custody of the cops. The other two . . . Who knew? Ken had a feeling Chip did. A car had been waiting outside when the remaining two females escaped, after all. Either Chip was grossly incompetent or he was a double-crosser. Ken suspected a little of both.

Chip touched his tongue to his now-bleeding lower lip. 'What rule have I broken?' he asked with a sneer, somehow maintaining his fine veneer of contempt.

Ken might have been impressed if Chip hadn't been trembling. 'You didn't inform me the moment she disappeared.'

'Because I didn't know until later,' Chip snapped.

'Later,' Ken said with a nod. 'The alarm went off when?'

Chip exhaled. 'At 5.45 this morning. But you knew that already because you get the tracker alarms too. You can locate any of my property any time you want to.'

'Yes, I can. But, I repeat, I don't. Not unless you break the rules. Which you did. Now, tell me how the girl got out early this morning and how the hell she got into the city. And why you killed her.'

Chip's head reared back. 'I did not kill her. I didn't even know she was gone. She slipped out. Probably to meet a man.'

'You got that last part right at least. She met a man.' Abruptly Ken got into Chip's face and let his full fury show. 'She met a goddamn reporter, you careless sonofabitch!'

That shocked all of them, he saw. The daughter in particular.

Ken strolled over to her. Stroked his fingers down her cheek again. Chuckled when she jerked her head away. He grabbed a handful of her hair, wrapped it around his wrist and yanked, bringing stunned tears to the daughter's eyes. Smiling, he leaned into her upturned face.

'You did it, didn't you?' he asked silkily. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth and shoved the tweezers in her mouth to retrieve the handkerchief used to gag her. Ignoring her choking cough, he yanked her head back again. 'You let her out. Why?'

'I didn't,' the girl stammered. 'I swear.'

'Then who did?'

'I . . . I don't know.'

Ken released her and stepped back. 'The hard way then,' he said, then chuckled when she clenched her eyes shut, obviously bracing for a blow. 'I'm not going to hit you, my dear,' he promised. 'I don't want to mark your face. That would seriously reduce your asking price.'

'Price?' Chip shouted. 'What do you mean, price? My daughter is not for sale!'

'Your daughter is my . . . guest,' Ken said. 'For now. And you, Chip, have nothing to say on the matter, one way or the other.'

The daughter's eyes had grown wide, her skin pale. 'What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about a beautiful blonde with long legs, a tight ass and creamy skin, when it isn't fright-white, that is. You go to Brown. Good school. Your major?'

'English,' she whispered.

He shrugged. 'You weren't going to do a lot with that anyway. Your name is Stephanie, isn't it? Do you speak any languages?'

Another whisper. 'French.'

Ken nodded. 'Nice. We will add that to your catalog description. Sex talk always sounds better in French. How do you feel about deserts?'

'Deserts?'

'You know sand. Camels. Guys with towels on their heads. Because we have buyers who love pretty white girls like you.'

She whipped her head around to stare at her father. 'Buyers?'

Her mother had done the same, and now both of them stared at Chip.

'You didn't tell them, did you?' Ken asked, then threw back his head and laughed. 'Oh my. You didn't tell them what kind of man I am? And what kind of man I made you, simply by association?' He turned to the women. 'Ladies, I sell people. Your husband has bought quite a few from me. But you knew that, didn't you, Marlene? Even if your husband never told you, you still knew. If you tell me that you didn't, I'll know you're a liar. The fact that you've never paid your staff and they were forced to wear ankle bracelets to keep them from running away had to have been big clues.'

Marlene stared up at him balefully, but her gag kept her silent.

'So I'll assume you did realize that your husband had procured your staff through illicit channels. Did he tell you that he procured over two dozen more for work in your factories? Ah, I can see that he did. Did he tell you that I also sell to more . . . sensually oriented buyers?'

Marlene's eyes glittered. Yeah, he thought. She'd known.

'Sex slaves,' Stephanie said, her whisper toneless.

He glanced at the young woman. Stephanie hadn't known. 'If that's what you'd like to call it, sure. But I rarely get specimens as nice as you.'

Her swallow was audible. 'If I tell you, will you let me go?'

'Don't say a word,' Chip said from behind clenched teeth. 'He won't let you go. He's lying to you. You've seen his face. He's not letting any of us go.'

Without breaking eye contact with Stephanie, Ken backhanded Chip, sending his chair crashing to the floor. 'You don't give any orders here, Anders,' he said coldly, still looking only at Stephanie. 'Now, my dear, I can make your future home more hospitable or less hospitable, depending on what you tell me.'

Stephanie stared at the crumpled form of her father, confusion warring with the fear in her eyes. But as the seconds ticked by, something new began to flicker around the fear. Understanding and wary calculation replaced the confusion, as if she'd suddenly comprehended her situation and was searching for a way out. 'I . . . don't . . . What was the question?'

Ken saw the reply for what it was a stall tactic and had to admit a certain admiration for the girl. But her father couldn't see her face, hadn't realized she'd grasped their reality.

Chip moaned. 'Just . . . hold on, baby. If you tell him what he wants now, he'll kill us all. Or worse. Just wait. She'll . . . tell.'

Ken watched Marlene and Stephanie exchange quick glances. Marlene's was harsh. Commanding. Stephanie's was wide-eyed. But even less terrified.

Ken's eyes narrowed. 'Who will tell . . . what?'

Stephanie closed her eyes. Pursed her lips. Her shoulders squared.

Ken's rage exploded. 'Who will tell?' he shouted.

'Go to hell,' Chip moaned.

Ken spun on one heel, grabbed a knife from his cart, and pressed the tip to Marlene's carotid. 'I will cut her fucking throat, Chip.' He gripped Stephanie's chin and forced her face toward her mother. 'Open your eyes, Stephanie. Open your eyes or your mother dies. Now!'

Stephanie's eyes opened, then filled with fear anew as her gaze locked on the drop of blood slowly rolling down her mother's throat. 'No. No. Don't kill her. Please don't kill her. I'll talk. I promise I'll talk.'

'Who is the she that's going to tell?' Ken demanded.

'Our servants,' Stephanie spat. 'I let them go. Mila and her daughter Erica. They'll go to the police.'

She's lying. But about exactly what, Ken wasn't sure. 'Why?'

Stephanie frowned. 'Why . . . what?'

Ken had to chuckle. 'Oh, some sheik is going to pay dearly for the privilege of taming you. You've got a quick mind, Stephanie darling.' He dragged the tip of the knife down Marlene's jaw, drawing a new line of crimson. 'But it won't work, sweetheart. So come clean, or I will kill her.'

'I'm not lying,' Stephanie insisted hoarsely.

Ken smiled at her. 'All right then. So why did you let the servants go?'

'To create a distraction.' She clenched her teeth. 'I'm sorry, Daddy.'

'I don't understand,' Ken said, feigning bewilderment. He hadn't believed a word she'd said. 'Why would you want to create a distraction?'

'Because my father was angry with me. He was threatening to hurt me because I'd taken Tala out last night. Now please take the knife off my mother's throat.'

'I'll decide when I'll take the knife away, sweetheart.' He pressed it a little harder, just to hear Marlene's panicked whimper. 'Why did you take Tala out?'

Stephanie's throat worked frantically. 'I . . . I'm not . . .' Her eyes scrunched shut. 'You're making me too scared to think.'

'That's the point, Stephanie darling.' He stepped back, deciding to trade the knife for the wired electrodes. He didn't want to get too angry and accidentally kill Marlene too soon. 'That is exactly the point. I have questions, but you're still thinking too much about keeping your lies straight and not enough about giving me the truth.' He twisted the cap off a bottle of water from the cart and poured it liberally over Marlene's head, just smiling when she glared at him. Then he snapped the alligator clips to her ear lobes, squeezing to make sure she felt the maximum pain. 'This device has four settings. This is level one.'

He turned it on, enjoying Marlene's muffled screeching, the arching of her back, her unintelligible begging for the pain to stop. After a minute he turned it off, gratified when Marlene's shoulders sagged. Her eyes wore a glazed look.

'That was level one, Stephanie. Think about it for a few minutes, won't you?'

Ken stepped away and jogged up the stairs to the first-floor foyer. 'Decker!' he called, walking to the base of one of the twin spiral staircases that made his family home unique.

Decker appeared at the top of the stairs, his latex gloves covered in blood. 'Yes, sir?' 'Did you find signs of anyone else at the Anders house?'

Decker frowned. 'No. No one. We swept every room, looking for the missing workers. There was a spare bedroom that appeared to have been used recently, but Mrs Anders swore that's where their dog handler slept when she visited.'

'Dog handler?'

'Yes, sir. Mrs Anders owns a champion poodle. The large size, sir,' Decker clarified when Ken's face twisted in a grimace of contempt. 'Not one of those yappy little ones. There were photos of the dog on the walls in their living room, and lots of ribbons and trophies. The dog was not in the home at the time we were. I checked the closets and under the beds to be sure. I didn't want barking to call attention to the house if someone walked by. I checked Mrs Anders's calendar. The next three weekends were blocked out for dog shows all in the Midwest, within a day's driving distance. I don't know if the handler keeps the dog for the next three weeks or brings it home in between shows.'

It was possible that this handler was the 'she' Chip had mentioned, but only if the woman was coming back soon. Or if she called in to give updates on the dog and became suspicious about Marlene's absence. Maybe what she was going to tell to the police, presumably was that the Anderses were missing.

'Okay,' he said to Decker. 'When you're done stitching up the wounded guard, go back to Anders's house and make sure there is still no one there. Then go to the office and continue listening to the audio files recorded from the trackers. Start with the murdered one, then listen to the two escapees.'

Decker raised a brow. 'You don't want me to come downstairs and help with the heavy lifting?'