Page 87 of Headcase

“The blindfold is for us, not you,” Avi said, casually. “Just in case that affects your decision at all.”

“If I say anything to you, he’ll kill me,” Jerry whined.

“Read the room, Jerry. We’re not here to tell you about our lord and savior, John Wick,” Avi said, thumping him on the forehead. “We’re gonna kill you.”

“What?” Jerry gasped, as if he’d somehow convinced himself there was a way out of the situation.

“Yeah, Jerry. You’re not walking out of here,” Asa added. “Your death is a done deal. How many limbs you have when we kill you…well, that depends on you.”

“Like my brother said, he’s a doctor. You’d be shocked at how many appendages you can lose before your system starts shutting down.”

Jericho reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a tiny canister. No, a torch. A mini blowtorch. He fired it up, letting the flame explode dangerously close to Jerry’s face. “Especially when we keep cauterizing the wounds.”

“You ever been burned by a blowtorch, Jerry?” Avi asked. “It’s my brother, August’s, second favorite tool for torture. It can melt the skin right off. Smells kind of like barbeque.”

“Oh, God,” Jerry whispered.

“God can’t help you now, Jerry. Tell us what you know about the game master.”

Avi took the torch from Jericho and brought it close enough for the skin on Jerry’s shoulder to blister. He gave a bloodcurdling scream then said, “Okay! Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Avi killed the torch. “Well, we’re waiting.”

“He’s not local. He lives on some fucking island out in the middle of nowhere. When the game ends, the winners get invited to his private island. He doesn’t tell us his name, and I don’t know if he even lives there, but I think he does because his security system is fucking bananas. The highest of high-end gadgets.”

“The winners?”

“Five players, five kills. The winners get a week on the island.”

“That’s it?” Zane asked. “My brother was tortured and killed so you could sip fucking fruity drinks on a goddamn beach? This wasn’t even for money?”

Jerry snorted. “Money? No. This is for bragging rights, pride. Do you know how many years the military trains men to do what we do? We’re elite. We can change people’s realities. Make them think or do anything we want. We owned them. They were our slaves.”

“Who is he?” Zane asked through gritted teeth.

“We don’t use names.”

“If you’re so fucking smart, I guarantee you’ve figured it out. Who the fuck is he?” Zane asked again. “Tell me or I let them burn you alive.”

“Okay. His name is Frederick Deetz,” Jerry said, voice panicked.

“What? That can’t be right,” Atticus said.

Jerry nodded. “Oh, it is. It took some sleuthing, but it’s definitely him.”

“Who is this guy?” Asa asked, still holding onto Zane.

“He owns Gecko Games,” Atticus answered.

“The video game company?” Avi asked.

“Yeah, he and Dad have been in the same room more than once. He doesn’t live on an island, but he definitely has enough money to own one. This one might almost be too easy,” Atticus said, sounding disappointed.

“I don’t care as long as they’re all dead. I want the handlers, too,” Zane growled.

“I can’t give you those. I don’t know them. I figured out Deetz because I had free range of his house. The others simply went by code names.”

“Does he have a staff on that island? Security?” Asa asked.