"Stop screaming," I said as I withdrew the fifth needle from Owen's spine. "We're only getting started."
Owen's body convulsed on the marble floor. Sweat and blood pooled beneath him. His breathing came in short, desperate gasps.
"Please," he whispered. "Just kill me."
"Wang Lei begged you the same way. Did you listen?"
I selected another needle from the leather case. This one was thinner, designed for more delicate work.
"He had a daughter," I continued conversationally. "Eight years old. Her name is Mei-Lin. She's been asking her mother when daddy is coming home."
Owen's eyes rolled back in his head. The combination of pain and blood loss was pushing him toward unconsciousness.
I pressed the needle against a nerve cluster at the base of his skull. "Stay awake. We have more hours to cover."
The needle pierced his skin with surgical precision. Owen's entire nervous system lit up like a electrical grid. His back arched impossibly, every muscle contracting at once.
