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Across from Luc sat Prefect Martin LeGrasse. Capitan Gregario Ortega and Minister of Intelligence Howard Caldwell-Pierce were next down the line. At the foot of the table, in a spot that had been reserved for a guest that the Generalissimo had persuaded La Contessa not to invite, sat Nigel Mander. The meeting was taking place in English because it was a language everyone at the table understood.La Contessa lit a cigarette and looked at the rotating holographic image of the van’s interior that was floating above the projector in the center of the table.“Yeah, we figured they wouldn’t have any local criminal contacts; no access to a chop shop.” She said before turning to the Prefect. “You look like you have a question, Martin.”He cleared his throat before answering.“Oui, Contessa. I know that he ... performs certain tasks ... for La Contessa. However, I must ask why he has a seat at the table.”“We had an empty seat.” Helen responded, shooting a brief look at Ramirez. She could have. ‘Don’t you want me, Mary?’ the voice asked. It sounded like John, but his lips were not moving. They were pressed into the glass separation. Mary tried to make her legs work, to start moving and carry her right the fuck out of the bathroom. But they were frozen in place, unwilling to obey. The voice chuckled, gurgling and seeping with malice. It was no longer John’s voice she heard. It was someone completely different. ‘Are you trying to piss me off?’ the voice hissed. John’s hand came up and slapped against the shower wall hard, his fingers spread out wide. Only when his fingers hit the glass, she heard a series of metallic scratches. Mary cautiously leaned in close and saw the distorted image of four, long metal blades slowly extending from John’s fingertips. She knew they were metal because as they reached out, the glass squealed and shrieked against their edges. Her chest was heaving now, her lungs rapidly carrying her towards hyperventilation. John’s body began to move, the.
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