Page 93 of Savage Justice

“Ears and nose, then. Hold his head still, Tony.”

“No! F-fingers. Take me fingers,” he sobs.”

Ethan pauses. “Which ones?”

“L-left hand.”

“Okay. Left it is. And you’re going to keep quiet, right? Unless you want me to slice out your tongue first, then take your nose and ears as well.”

Mulligan’s shaking now, whimpering softly. I’d almost feel sorry for him, but the image of that dead girl is enough to harden my resolve. And now we know we have her children to sort out as well. They’ll need to be provided for, and it all adds up.

“Free his hand and hold it up for me, Tony.”

Tony does as he’s asked, securing the fated limb in his vice-like grasp while Ethan positions the shears around all four of Mulligan’s fingers.

“This might take a while,” he mutters. “These things are blunt as fuck.”

He’s not wrong. The entire operation takes almost three minutes of hacking and sawing, but eventually the last mangled digit tumbles onto the floor to join the first three. Mulligan has passed out. He got as far as seeing his index finger dangling from a sliver of shredded muscle, and that was it. Jack wanted to chuck a bucket of water over him, but Ethan preferred to just get on with the job and see it finished.

Jack leans in and peels back an eyelid. “He’s still alive. Shall I…?”

“No. Give him an hour or so to finally peg it, then send someone down to clear all this away. They can dump what’s left of him in the river.”

“Okay.”

We leave Mulligan on his own to breathe his last in peace. I don’t think it will take anything like an hour.

CHAPTER 22

Molly

I take in a sharp breath. “Wow!”

“Holy fuck,” is Nico’s equally articulate comment.

“Fuck me, that’s good.” Ethan moves closer to peer at Marlowe’s finished work. “This is… this is just superb.”

“Glad you like it. It won’t stand up to forensic scrutiny, modern materials and suchlike. But until the experts start scraping at it, and getting out their microscopes and UV pens, you should be okay.” Marlowe surveys the copy of Death of Atalanta, his head tipped to one side. “You’ll want me to point out the tell, I suppose.”

“The tell? What’s that?” Ethan demands.

“It’s here, in the foam around the ship’s bow.” Marlowe brings up an image of the original painting on his laptop and enlarges the area around the sinking ship. “See, there, the white crests to the waves?”

We all peer at the image, then back to the version propped on an easel in the tower room. Even to my trained eye they appear identical.

“My copy has a slightly greenish tint. Can you see it?”

We all shake our heads.

“What about now?” Marlowe has taken a picture of his masterpiece and displays it on his laptop screen alongside the original. He lays the two enlarged sections side by side. “There.”

The men gathered around still seem unable to spot the difference, but I can. It’s subtle, barely discernible, as it’s intended to be. You would need to know what you were looking for, and even then, you wouldn’t be sure which was genuine without the scientific proof.

“Why did you put that in?” Nico asks. “I thought we wanted an exact copy.”

“We need to be able to point out that it’s a forgery,” Ethan explains. “When the time comes. But this will do the trick. Thank you, Mr McGuinness. I’ll arrange the transfer of your fee before close of business today.”

“Nice doing business with you, Mr Savage. And now, since my work here is done, I’d like to spend some time with my niece who’s promised me a game of chess. I gather she’s a worthy opponent.”

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