Bennett stood for a few more minutes, watching the woman swim. There was something about her that touched him. She had to know that she was never going to change, that next year, and the year after, she would still be here, still be fat, still be swimming her clumsy breaststroke before showering and going home alone. And yet here she was, water weights on, plugging away. Human drama, right in front of him. Broke the heart.

He walked down the hall to the massage rooms. A hatchet-faced girl with big hands was heading for a closed door.

“Excuse me,” Bennett said.

“Yes?”

“I know this is odd, but I work with the doctor. There’s been an incident at the lab. I need to speak to him right now. It’s urgent.”

She hesitated, then said, “Well, I suppose I-”

“Thanks,” he said, one hand on the door handle. She stood there for a moment, and he said, “Sorry, but as I’m sure you know, our work is sensitive.”

“Umm…”

“I appreciate it.” Then he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

The doc lay on his belly on the massage table, a towel across his ass. Candles glowed from a Zen stone arrangement in the corner, and soft music came from somewhere. Swank.

“Cindi,” the doc said to the floor. “Afraid you’ve got your work cut out for you. My shoulder’s killing me. I think I pulled something.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bennett said.

The man’s head whipped around, and he planted his hands on the table, came partway up, then hesitated, seeming to realize he was naked under the towel. “What-”

“Easy, Doc.” Bennett strolled around the edge of the table. “Don’t want to aggravate that shoulder.”

“You filling in for Cindi?” His eyes narrow, but no fear in them. The kind of guy who saw the whole world as the help.

“Let’s talk about who you are.”

“Who I am? I’m sorry, I don’t understand-”

“You’re a senior chemist at K &S Laboratories. You guys have a couple of steady contracts supplying medium-sized pharmaceutical companies with organofluorine compounds. Word is you’re likely to be running the place in a couple of years. Some folks might say it’s because you married the boss’s daughter, but I don’t credit that. Best I can tell, you’re a talented scientist.”

The man’s face went through a series of expressions, his eyebrows raising, then lowering, nostrils flaring, mouth falling slightly open. He looked like he’d been trying to tell a joke but at the last second forgot the punch line.

“You also have a bit of a naughty streak, don’t you?” Bennett squatted to lower himself eye to eye.

The guy began to push himself up, saying, “I don’t know who you are or what-”

Bennett broke his nose.

“Unnuhhuh!” The man’s eyes went wide with shock, hands flying to cup his face, propping himself on his elbows.

“Hurts, right? They say that in a fight, you should strike with an open hand, aiming the heel of your palm into your opponent’s nose. Disorienting as hell, the world spins, the pain slows them down. Plus, if you keep your hand at the right angle, a lot of times your fingers will go into their eyes. Why I went with a closed fist that time.”

Blood was flowing between the man’s fingers-another benefit to a good nose punch, it looked dramatic-and the fear was in him now, that arrogant assumption of control gone. He scrambled backward on the table, the towel slipping off to reveal his bare white ass.

“Sit still, Doc.” Bennett stood and took the Smith from behind his back.

The man froze halfway up, flaccid penis dangling, looking for all the world like he was about to take it doggy-style.

“Good boy.” Bennett reached into his pocket with his left hand, pulled out a handful of pages. He tossed the folded stack on the massage table. “Take a look.”

For a moment, the man just stared, that prey gaze they all got when you put the screws to them. Then he reached out with a trembling hand and unfolded the papers. First a gasp, then a low moan that dragged on as he moved from photograph to photograph.

“Walking the wild side, huh? Obviously, black-and-white can’t really demonstrate the full-color glory of the originals. But I think you get the point.”

The man’s hands were shaking and his face had gone pale. “Where did you…?”

“You’re too smart to ask things you already know the answer to. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten your little adventure. So why don’t you use that big brain of yours and come up with a better question? There’s really only one.”

The doctor stared at him, then at the pictures. Slowly he eased himself to a seated position, one hand on his nose, the other covering himself. Helpless to stop his whole world slipping away. Bennett had found that a flair for the dramatic was useful in his line of work. The man wouldn’t have been nearly so cowed sitting behind his desk, wearing a cashmere sweater and tailored slacks. There was a moment of silence, and then, staring at his feet, the man said, “How much do you want?”

“Right neighborhood, wrong address.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t want money.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing that will take much time or effort. Just want you to cook me up a little something.” Bennett pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and held it out. Did it purposefully, wondering which hand the guy would use to take it. After a second, the doctor let go of his nose to grab the paper. Better to let blood run down his face from a broken nose than to expose his cock. Bennett chuckled. “Now, you know what that is?”

The man focused on the page, his eyes growing wide.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You make that for me, you got my word, I’ll delete the originals. They aren’t really my taste anyway. Though if you like, I’ll be happy to send you copies first, give you a little souvenir.”

“I… you know what this is?”

Bennett sighed, then leaned in and flicked the man’s broken nose with his middle finger. The guy yelped, dropped the page.

“You think I’d be asking if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know how to make it.”

“You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. And you have one heck of a chemistry set at your disposal. A lab like yours, deals with pharmaceutical companies, you probably have most of what you need in stock, right?”

Looking like it hurt, the man nodded.

“Good. You’ve got three days.”

“Three days, that’s not enough-”

“There you go again.” Bennett tapped the Smith against the table. “Talking without thinking.”

The man swallowed, said nothing.

“Better. Now”-Bennett stood-“I’ve got your cell number. I’ll be in touch. I were you, I’d get to work.” He slid the gun back into his belt, started for the door. “By the way, I think the lovely you were swimming beside might have a crush on you. Just between us, eh, brother?” He winked, then stepped out, leaving the man naked and bleeding.

An excellent performance. Hitting the right tone was key. He strolled down the hall, feeling good. He was almost to the stairs when the masseuse stopped him.

“Everything OK?”

“Right as rain,” he said. “But you know what, hon? I’ve got a feeling the doctor’s going to skip his massage.”