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Vin, Chris and Josiah stared at the piece of paper that had been in the envelope that Scott had given Vin. It had two words on it.
"Strike One."
"What the hell does that mean?" Chris demanded, holding the paper so tightly that it crumpled and tore. Vin looked puzzled.
"I'm not sure." Vin frowned. "What I don't understand is how Samuels knew what to write before we gave him the information."
"The false information," Josiah said uneasily. "Do you think he knew that we were giving him fake information when he called last night? He's definitely watching us, otherwise he wouldn't have warned Chris and me to stay here this morning. Maybe he knows that we couldn't find any Jason Cummerford in the city."
Chris's cell phone ran. He grabbed it and snapped, "Larabee."
"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Larabee. I thought we understood each other. And instead I find you trying to fool me with fallacious information. This does not do much for the spirit of trust."
"What the hell does 'strike one' mean, Samuels?" Chris demanded, ignoring the ominous words. Vin and Josiah listened, trying to figure out what Samuels was saying from Chris's terse words.
"You lied to me, Mr. Larabee. That is your first strike. You'll be receiving a package this afternoon. It will contain a videotape and new instructions. You'd do well to watch it the entire way through; it contains some information that I'm sure you will find enlightening."
"Have you even tried to contact Cummerford?" Chris asked, grasping at straws. Samuels laughed.
"Jason Cummerford does not exist, Mr. Larabee. At least not in this city. I knew that, and instructed you to find him to see whether I could be sure of your honesty. It appears I can't. And I'm afraid Mr. Dunne and Mr. Standish will pay the price for your deception."
"Wait! We were doing what we thought would keep JD and Ezra uninjured," Chris said desperately. "What was I supposed to do, Samuels? For all I knew, if I said there was no Cummerford in the city you would have killed them. I was trying to keep them alive."
"That may be so, but you attempted to deceive me, and I will not let that go unpunished. If ever you cannot fulfill my instructions, Mr. Larabee, you would do well to tell me so, instead of trying to deceive me."
"Damn you, Samuels."
"No doubt, Mr. Larabee," the man said affably. "Tell me, is Mr. Sanchez nearby?"
"Why?" Chris asked suspiciously. He glanced at Josiah, who raised his eyebrows in response and waited.
"Tell him to go and watch over Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Jackson. It wouldn't do for them to wake up alone. You and Mr. Tanner will have to take over following my instructions. I would advise doing as I say, Mr. Larabee. You don't want to make your friends' pain any more prolonged than it must be."
Chris clenched his fists in impotent anger. "Why are you doing this, Samuels? What's in it for you? You ask us to locate a non-existent man, send my men on fool's errands, for what? What is it that you want?"
Samuels laughed softly. "This is a game, Mr. Larabee. I thought you would have realised that by now. I am doing this because it is entertaining for me."
"Entertaining? Damn it, Samuels, most people go to movies or something for entertainment! They don't kidnap and torture people!"
There was a pause before Samuels spoke again. "Do you have any idea what it is like to have a genius's IQ, Mr. Larabee? Have you ever thought how utterly frustrating it must be to be so far beyond everyone around you that you can't even interact with them normally? To know the answers to the puzzles that rule their lives. To be so far ahead of the world that even books by Tolstoy, Aasimov, the greatest authors of history are like children's storybooks. Do you have any idea how long a day can seem when you are far more intelligent than normal people?"
Chris swallowed, stunned by the man's questions. Samuels continued, "I don't imagine you do. Well, Mr. Larabee, I do. I know all of that. And that is why I do this. Human beings are the one thing that no amount of intellect can predict. We react differently, depending on upbringing and temperament and countless other little idiosyncrasies that make humans unique. I could play this game a thousand times over, with a thousand different players, and each time the reactions would be different. The next time I play, my players might just admit that they couldn't find the man I asked them to find. The one I send to meet Scott might kill him, just to show me that they can hurt me too. It is a fascinating process, the human mentality, and it is one of few things that has any entertainment value for me anymore."
"You're doing all this because you're bored?" Chris asked incredulously. Samuels seemed to be considering his question before answering.
"That is a rather blunt way of putting it, but I suppose so, yes."
"So if this is all a game, why do you need to hurt Ezra and JD?" Chris asked, trying to reason with the man. Samuels's laugh sent chills down his spine.
"Don't be fooled by my choice of words, Mr. Larabee. After all, Russian Roulette is also a game."
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JD looked up as Samuels and Mikhail entered the room he and Ezra had been taken to. It was smaller than the previous room, but it contained a bed large enough for the two of them and was warmer than the concrete room. Ezra was sleeping. His fever was low, and the doctor didn't think that there was anything to worry about. JD had been sitting and watching him since returning two hours earlier.
Mikhail walked over and jerked JD to his feet. "Come with us, Agent," he said roughly, tying a blindfold over JD's eyes again. The long march down the corridor reminded JD anew of being walked to his execution, and he had to stop himself from shuddering in Mikhail's grasp.
He was taken into another room, guided to a chair and the blindfold was removed. He blinked as the light hit his eyes and glanced around. He was sitting in front of a table, and Samuels was on the other side. As he watched, Samuels opened a briefcase and took out a vial and syringe.
"What's this about?" JD asked, a note of nervousness in his voice despite his efforts to sound unconcerned. Samuels didn't answer; drawing some of the straw-coloured liquid from the vial into the syringe, he replaced the vial and turned to JD.
"This will keep you conscious, long enough to make the point anyway."
Those words sent a shudder of fear through JD. Mikhail's hands tightened on his shoulders as Samuels stood and approached, the evil-looking syringe glinting in his hand. He knelt beside the chair and angled the syringe at JD's throat.
JD jerked away, cursing as Mikhail's fingers found his wounded arm again. The huge guard clamped one hand around JD's injured arm and with the other grabbed JD's chin. His fingers pressed into JD's jaw as he angled the agent's head up, baring his throat like a sacrifice about to be killed.
Samuels plunged the syringe into JD's throat. The pain was negligible compared to the pain JD had felt two hours earlier when Mikhail had exacted his payment for JD's requests, but it was still a foreign object in his neck and cause enough to be alarmed. Mikhail's hand on his jaw prevented him from moving, and the angle was restricting the flow of oxygen to his lungs. Black spots danced in front of his vision. Then Samuels pulled the syringe out, Mikhail released JD's jaw and JD could breathe properly again.
Samuels returned to his seat behind the table. He looked past JD and spoke.
"Mr. Larabee. As you can see, I have selected Mr. Dunne to participate in this demonstration. Mr. Standish is currently a little unwell, and my medical staff tell me that it would be inadvisable for him to join us this afternoon."
JD twisted around in the chair and saw another hulking guard, this one holding a video camera. He realised with a sinking feeling that Samuels was sending a tape to Chris, and that he was probably there to provide subject matter that would be sure to infuriate his employer.
Samuels continued talking. "As I said, I don't appreciate being lied to. Mr. Dunne will show you what happens when you attempt to deceive me."
He held up the remote and pressed a button. For an instant, JD dared to hope that the collar didn't work. Then he felt two burning patches on the sides of his neck, and a lance of pain shot through his chest.
"Oh, God. What is that?"
"That, Mr. Dunne, is the chemical in your collar. Just a small dose, enough to show Mr. Larabee exactly what happens when he lies to me. Unfortunately for yourself, the effects of the chemical are only just beginning."
After the initial lance of pain as the chemical entered his body, the effects were slow to show themselves. JD felt a gradual heat rising in his abdomen, as though he'd contracted a 'flu or some other virus and was running a fever. This was much faster than a normal fever, however.
He looked down at his hands and noticed them shaking. A sudden spasm shot through his arms and hands, the muscles tightening in response to the foreign chemical in his bloodstream. His fingers curled in to claw at his palms. His legs jerked as the same muscular spasms worked their way down his back and legs. He kept his seat with some difficulty; Mikhail had removed his hands from JD's shoulders and had gone to stand by the wall, watching impassively.
A bolt of pain speared through his stomach, like a bullet tearing through him. He curled forward and tensed the muscles of his abdomen as tremors ran through his shoulders and back. He clenched his teeth against the whimper that threatened to burst from his throat, determined not to give Samuels the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
A shaft of fire ignited inside him, so suddenly that JD couldn't keep back the startled scream of pain. His concentration was shot, so that the next bout of spasms that wracked his body sent him crashing to the floor, instinctively wrapping his arms around his stomach in a futile attempt to ease the pain. His arms and legs jerked spasmodically, out of his control in the grips of the chemical.
He heard Samuels talking, but the words didn't make any sense as his body thrashed. Moans and cries escaped his throat without him intending to make a sound; he'd told himself that he could endure anything Samuels put him through, as long as he didn't cry out, but he hadn't figured on his own body betraying him.
Spasms made the muscles in his back so rigid that curling into a ball to relieve the cramping of his stomach was out of the question. The muscles in his legs contracted until his calves were almost touching the backs of his thighs. His back arched and his arms jerked, joints cracking. His entire body jerked as though in the throes of a fit.
JD didn't know how long it went on. After the first few minutes, his mind was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the pain, and he didn't even hear Samuels talking anymore. After an indeterminate period of time, he felt hands under his shoulders and knees, and movement. No blindfold this time; whoever was carrying him seemed to know that he wasn't in any condition to know or care where he was being taken. The sound of a door being opened registered, and he was unceremoniously dumped on a bed. The jolt sent waves of pain through him, and he gladly embraced blackness.
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The next video arrived at four p.m., wrapped in plain paper and addressed to Chris. An envelope came with it, instructions written on the outside telling them not to open the envelope until they'd watched the video. It was only Chris and Vin left, now at Chris's ranch; Josiah had done as Samuels had ordered and returned to the hospital, though while he was there he intended to look over everything they had on Samuels, to try and figure out where he might be keeping JD and Ezra. The idea of Buck or Nathan waking up alone was repugnant to all three men, and Josiah knew that Vin would better be able to deal with Chris than he could.
They put the tape in the VCR and steeled themselves for the worst. Vin was pacing, unwilling and unable to sit down long enough to watch the tape. Chris was seated on the couch, leaning forward as though his proximity to the VCR would make a difference to its content.
The tape began with an image of a small room. Two chairs sat on either side of a table, both empty. The door opened, and three men walked in. A tall, muscular man that neither agent recognised. Jake Samuels. And JD Dunne.
As he was guided to one of the chairs, Vin and Chris could see that JD was wearing an evil-looking leather collar with a small metal box set in the front. The guard removed the blindfold that had been covering the agent's eyes as Samuels sat down in the other chair. The supplier removed a vial and syringe from the briefcase, ignoring JD's query, and drew some of the straw-coloured liquid into the syringe before turning to the agent who was being held in place by the large man behind him. Samuels's next words chilled Vin to the core.
"This will keep you conscious, long enough to make the point anyway."
The guard angled JD's chin up, baring his throat, and Samuels stuck the syringe in. He returned to his seat and looked directly at the camera.
"Mr. Larabee. As you can see, I have selected Mr. Dunne to participate in this demonstration. Mr. Standish is currently a little unwell, and my medical staff tell me that it would be inadvisable for him to join us this afternoon."
The mention of Ezra being injured sent bolts of anger through both watching agents. JD turned and gazed at the camera, slight confusion registering on his face. Vin swore under his breath and continued pacing, his speed slightly faster as Samuels continued talking.
"As I said, I don't appreciate being lied to. Mr. Dunne will show you what happens when you attempt to deceive me."
He held up a remote and pressed the button. For a few moments nothing happened, then JD's voice broke the silence, slightly shaken.
"Oh, God. What is that?"
"That, Mr. Dunne, is the chemical in your collar. Just a small dose, enough to show Mr. Larabee exactly what happens when he lies to me. Unfortunately for yourself, the effects of the chemical are only just beginning."
The guard moved away from JD and stood by the wall, watching impassively. JD's hands started to shake. The tremors worsened, moving to his arms and legs. The watching agents could see JD's jaw clench as he struggled to keep from crying out.
"Goddamnit," Vin growled, his hands clenching into fists as a scream escaped JD's throat. JD crashed to the floor, doubled over and clutching his stomach, arms and legs jerking spasmodically. Samuels spoke again.
"This is what happens when you try to lie to me, trick me or otherwise go against the spirit of cooperation," the man said, looking down at JD, who seemed not to notice Samuels's words. The agent was convulsing as though he was having a fit, soft cries and moans of pain filtering to Vin and Chris through the bad quality of the tape. Both men were intensely glad that the others, especially Buck, weren't watching this tape.
Samuels looked at the camera again. "You will find your next instructions in the envelope that came with this tape. I suggest that you follow them to the letter, unless you want to receive another tape of Mr. Dunne suffering. Of course, I could use Mr. Standish next time, or simply fulfill my promise as to what will happen if you don't cooperate. I'm loath to begin sending you parts of your agents, but rest assured that if you continue to try and deceive me, I will do whatever I have to in order to convince you that you should act otherwise."
The tape stopped. Vin silently slit the envelope with a letter-opener and pulled out a piece of paper.
"What does the bastard want us to do this time?" Chris asked through gritted teeth. Vin wordlessly handed him the piece of paper. Chris read it out loud.
"Now that you have been enlightened as to the penalty of deceiving me, I have another task for you. At six p.m. tonight, the young man Mr. Tanner met will be waiting in the diner near the park. You will both meet him there, and he will give you something. Don't be late."
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