He exhales through the mask. It might be a laugh. “I’ll do better next time.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t. One REDRUM message is enough to sustain me the rest of my life.”
I put a hand on my chest. “Me? Yeah, I’m hilarious. It’s just a coping mechanism, though. You’d know all about those, I imagine.”
“You have no idea,” he says in a way that makes me shiver. He uncrosses his legs and recrosses them the other way. “How’s Mr. Wilkinson?”
“Beaten to within half an inch of his life,” I snap angrily. “They’re keeping him overnight for observation because he couldn’t remember where he was.”
The Masked Man shows no sign of giving a f**k.
“He’s a nice person, you know,” I continue. “He’s never done a single thing to deserve what you did to him.”
A flare of rage rises up in those soulless
