Page 120 of Vameer

I step closer to the screen, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.

It’s a smooth cut. Nothing serrated. Not a chainsaw.

I lift the bottle to my lips.

It looks like something a sword would do.

A very sharp blade, wielded by a very strong man.

I swallow a mouthful of whiskey.

The charred bits of flesh are curious. Whatever it was wasn’t hot enough to solder the wounds. There’s too much gore pooled on the sidewalk for that to be true. But whatever the weapon was, it was hot enough to leave burn marks. Even though it had to have been traveling at a very high speed.

The camera man stands. “There’s not much more—” His head turns back toward Rune’s house, where someone is standing with their hand in the air. “Hold that thought. They found something.”

He strides in that direction, getting across the street the same time as several other people.

Everyone leans in.

Camera man crouches.

“What am I looking at?”

The screen zooms in.

I glance over at the lackey.

He’s sitting up, one hand over his eyes, fingers spread so he can only see through a sliver, while his other hand does something on the keyboard.

The image sharpens.

And I grimace. “It’s a pair of hands.”

“You sure?” Camera man finally has a bit of disgust in his voice.

“Unless this guy had fingernails growin’ somewhere else.”

The lackey taps some buttons, the view zooms out, and he lays his head back on the table.

“Which guy is missing their hands?”

Camera man turns to the row of bodies, showing a pair in lab gear walking down the row, presumably checking the corpses for hands.

The pair reaches the end and shakes their heads.

Camera man turns to The Gallery, where a different agent is stepping out of the front door.

He also shakes his head.

I blink at the screen. “Who’s fucking hands are those?”

“Uh…” Camera man turns back and forth, but everyone is just looking at each other.

“That him?” A cigarette-scratched voice booms from the speakers.

Johnson steps in front of my camera man, hand raised as he points at the glasses, saying my name.

Virginia, DC, New York. No matter where he was coming from, he shouldn’t have been close enough to be there. This altercation happened an hour ago. Max. His appearance, and the presence of a full field team, confirms that Johnson was already close. That this hit was planned.