Page 42 of Savage Reckoning

“Who was it then? Archer? One of his men?”

“I don’t know, I swear…”

Jack straightens. “Take his fingers. One at a time, right hand first.”

Aaron does the honours this time. The screams are ear-splitting, but soon the teacup is overflowing with severed digits. All the while, Mitchell begs for mercy and swears he doesn’t know who fired the missiles. I’m inclined to believe him, and eventually Jack comes around to the same way of thinking. He drops Mitchell’s severed thumb into the cup along with all four fingers from his right hand.

“We’re getting nowhere here. Take this piece of shit back to his cell.”

Tony and I do as he asks. Mitchell is more dead than alive, but we drag him along the dark corridor and dump him on the floor in the middle of his cell before returning to the kill room to dispose of the spare body parts and help with the cleaning up.

“If there’s a chance we’ll want to talk to him again, it might be a good idea to let Megan have look at him,” Aaron suggests.

Jack shrugs. “She can do something about the blood loss if she feels like it. No pain relief or infection control, though.”

“I’ll see to that,” I volunteer. It’s a good excuse to go and seek her out since it’s clear she won’t be coming looking for me anytime soon.

Megan isn’t at the clinic. I find one of the agency nurses shipped over from the mainland in the consulting room. There are two of them, their role to assist in patient care until the casualties are on their feet again, to relieve Megan of the entire burden. Currently, they only have Magda in their care, but I gather Ethan is to join us in the coming days. The nurse tells me that Megan went back to her cottage to get some rest.

It turns out her living accommodation is annexed to the surgery, so I saunter round the back and knock on the door.

She answers, looking as though she just woke up. Her eyes are bleary, her hair tousled from the pillow. She squints around the door at me.

“What do you want?”

“You,” I answer. “The prisoner could do with some attention.”

Her brow furrows. “What happened to him?”

“The usual. Missing a few bits and pieces.”

“Christ,” she mutters. “Okay. Give me a minute to get my bag.”

She doesn’t invite me in, but I follow her indoors anyway. It gives me a chance to take in her domain while she collects the supplies she needs.

The cottage is compact but comfortable. The door opens directly into her living space which sports a sofa, a table with two chairs, and a kitchenette at one end. A microwave, kettle, washing machine, and fridge seem to make up all the equipment, and I remember what the housekeeper told me about everyone just grabbing what they want from the main kitchen. I don’t suppose a busy mob doctor has much time for cooking anyway.

Megan returns looking slightly more awake. Damp tendrils of flaming auburn hair frame her freshly washed face, and she’s changed her top. She’s carrying a leather medical bag almost as big as she is.

“Let me,” I offer.

“I can manage.” She sweeps past me. “What are you doing in here anyway? I thought I told you to wait outside.”

“Sorry, didn’t hear you.” Not strictly true. I fall into step beside her.

“There’s no need for you to follow me around like a poodle,” she snaps.

I ignore her tetchiness and try to work out what got up her ass. Last I recall, we were getting on pretty well until we were interrupted by Beth’s phone call. Since then, it’s been all go and no opportunity to take up again where we left off.

We reach the outer entrance to the underground cellsd and Megan keys in the code to unlock the door. Clearly not her first visit down here.

“Is this part of your usual duties, then?” I ask as I follow her down the steps.

“What?”

“Patching up tortured prisoners so they can go another round.”

“Is that what you think I’m here for?” She stops at the foot of the steps to glower at me. “You said he needed my help.”

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