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The Dark Man stood with his feet straddling Morales's head and peered down as if he were contemplating the man's soul. From his vantage point on the carpet, Pablo Morales was beginning to realize that life as he had known it was over. Yet the man was still too much of a weasel not to look for a way out. He tried to speak, but again nothing came out.
Turning to his assistants, the Dark Man said, "Leave us. And close the door."
The men glanced at each other, but did as instructed.
The Dark Man shook his head sadly. When he spoke, the reasonableness of his tone was more unnerving than a scream. "You may speak now, Pablo. Please tell me about the talisman."
Now that he knew he could speak, Morales was afraid to. After a moment of silence the Dark Man asked again, this time in English. When Morales didn't reply the second time, the Dark Man kicked the man sharply behind the right ear with the toe of his sandal.
"Pablo, I suggest you listen to me as if your life depended on it. If you do not answer me, I am going to kill your dogsjust so that you will understand that I am a serious person. If you still remain mute, I will kill your daughter, and then your wife, and then . . . I will kill you. After you are dead, I will rip you open like the pig that you are and squeeze the information I seek from your entrails. So you see, you will tell me what I want to know. The only question is . . . how much pain do you want to endure beforehand?"
The Dark Man waited patiently, his head cocked to one side, but Morales kept his mouth shut and just shivered.
The Dark Man went to the door, opened it and said to the man with the goatee, "Bring the dog."

Paula Inkarha dropped the cup of herbal tea she had been drinking and grabbed her head. It didn't help. The images exploded like strings of tenpenny firecrackers on her stunned optic nerves. Her bedroom was gone. In its place was a room

 
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