"Where is the prototype now?" I asked, the cane's silver tip tracing against the floor.
Her jaw set, lips pressed tight. She stared past me, clinging to what remained of her dignity. A mistake. Defiance worked with merciful men. I hadn't been merciful since 1989.
Reid selected a scalpel from his tools. "I need you to understand something, Doctor. This isn't personal. You have information we require. The faster you provide it, the faster this ends." He examined the blade, checking the edge. "Where's the prototype?"
Her eyes widened as he approached. "I don't know anything," she whispered.
"That's unlikely." Reid pressed the scalpel against her collarbone, just above the bone. Her skin dimpled beneath the sharp point. "Let's start simple."
Blood welled around the metal. A single droplet broke free, tracing a path downward and disappearing beneath her blouse.
"That hurt?" Reid asked, his voice flat.
She whimpered, eyes frantically searching the room for an exit that didn't exist. "Yes," she gasped.
"How bad? Scale of ten."
"Three," she whispered.
"Good. Honest answers speed this along." His wrist flicked, the scalpel opening a shallow cut across her collarbone. "Now. Where's the prototype?"
"I don't know!" Her voice broke. Blood welled along the cut and ran down her chest, darkening her blouse.
Reid selected a small vial of clear liquid from his collection. "This amplifies pain signals. Military developed it. I'd rather not use it, but we're on a schedule." He removed the stopper. "Last chance. Where's the prototype?"
She said nothing.
Reid tilted the vial, clear drops falling directly into the open wound.
The effect was immediate. Her scream tore through the lab, her body convulsing against the restraints so hard her tendons creaked. The chair legs skittered against the floor.
Reid waited for the convulsions to subside, his expression unchanged. "That's about an eight on the scale. The second dose pushes it higher. Third causes permanent psychological damage." He set the vial aside. "I'm going to ask again."
Sweat poured from her now. Mascara tracked down her cheeks. "Please," she begged, voice shredded. "I'm telling the truth."
Reid selected a pair of pliers, testing the spring mechanism. "Fingernails next. I need a location, Doctor."
He grasped her index fingernail with the pliers.
"Where is the prototype now?" I pressed.
Her face drained of color. "I... I can't..."
Reid tightened his grip.
"Wait!" Panic widened her eyes. "Shaw moved it!"
The pliers yanked backward. Her fingernail tore free with a wet ripping sound. The scream that followed contained nothing human. Blood welled from the exposed nail bed.
"Location," I demanded, stepping close. "Exactly where?"
"Macau," she gasped. "He's already there. Setting up for the auction."
Reid examined the extracted nail briefly, then discarded it onto a metal tray. He positioned the pliers over her middle finger. "Macau's a big place. Where exactly?"
"Wait!" The word tore from her throat. "There's a compound below the Golden Dragon casino. Where the auction will happen."
Reid paused. He looked at me, waiting.
