Page 31 of Nash Falls

“Yes,” replied Rhett.

“And you and others were able to discover their betrayal and prevent them from reaching the level where any damaging information could be transferred?”

“Also correct.” He looked at her expectantly and she gazed back at him with a disappointed expression that froze his blood. He scrambled to think of…

He blurted out, “Then the feds would next look forhighly placedpeople, to change things up on us.”

“That is how I would perceive the situation, yes.”

“Then I just need a way to drill down on who they might targetnext. And then either eliminate them or convince the person that partnering with the authorities is a bad idea.”

“And why not just kill them?”

Rhett was ready for that one. “First, if people keep dying or disappearing, then that will raise suspicion in and of itself. And every death is another opportunity to make a mistake and leave a trail leading right back to us. And second, if I can turn a potential informant into an ally, ensuring their loyalty? That is a good outcome for us.”

She allowed him a smile and Rhett realized this had been a test.

“You are required to think at thatheightenedlevel at all times, Mr. Temple, not simply in rare instances where you are desperate and thus panicked. Panic brings with it a diminishment of judgment that quite often leads to catastrophic results.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

When she leaned forward Steers was no longer smiling. “Do you reallyperceiveexactly what I am attempting to convey to you, Mr. Temple?”

Rhett held her gaze. “I… perceive, Ms. Steers.”

She kept eye contact for a few moments before sitting back. “Then my trip here has been worthwhile, and my return journey will be joyful.” She dismissed him with a curt wave.

As he rose to leave she said, “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

Three men appeared out of the darkness. One pinned Rhett’s arms while the other slid his jacket down and ripped open his left shirtsleeve. And though he was young and strong, Rhett was helpless against them.

The third man laid out a large sheet of plastic on the floor. The two other men effortlessly lifted Rhett so that the plastic could be placed under him. Then Rhett felt a blade cut into the flesh of his left arm near his wrist. The cutter casually walked the blade up his arm, neatly missing all veins, arteries, and muscle with a hand well practiced in this form of human carving.

Even restrained as he was, Rhett writhed around a bit, his teethgrinding as he tried desperately not to scream out. He feared that would result in his immediate execution.

When the man reached nearly to Rhett’s shoulder capsule, he pulled the knife free. The other men let go their steel grips and Rhett sank to his knees in his own blood on the plastic, and threw up.

Steers nodded at another man who had appeared. He administered an injection to Rhett’s arm, causing him to slump unconscious on the plastic.

The men carried Rhett and the plastic, and his blood, out of the room, while Steers sat there with her eyes closed and her breathing subdued.

She appeared to be meditating.

Meanwhile, Rhett was laid on a table in an adjacent space where the bleeding was halted, and his wound thoroughly cleaned, sutured, and bandaged.

When Rhett came to, he was sitting in his Porsche wearing a fresh set of clothes.

Taped to the steering wheel was a piece of paper with words typed on it.

FOR EVERY WRONG THERE MUST BE THE RIGHT PUNISHMENT. FOR EVERY PUNISHMENT THERE IS THE POTENTIAL FOR EVEN MORE. ACT WISELY.

A groggy and still nauseous Rhett rolled up his shirtsleeve, eased back the bandage, and looked at the long, stitched wound. It weaved its way up his arm like a snake, and it ached like he’d been shot. He then noted the bottle on his console.

It was Oxycodone. The dosage and other instructions were on the label.

One pill daily as needed for pain. If you cannot otherwise stand it. And if you cannot otherwise stand it, perhaps you are in the wrong business.