“A narcissist would probably think it was his due,” Kent said. “He’s so superior that he wouldn’t get caught. He’s smarter than the rest of us mere mortals.”
Nina turned to Kent. “Where do you think that comes from?”
“He’s likely been told since early childhood that he’s special,” Kent said. “That he’s better. He begins to feel entitled. When things don’t turn out the way he thinks they should, he would naturally look for someone to blame. It couldn’t be that he simply didn’t measure up. It must be someone else’s fault. And that someone must be punished.”
“What about the camera?” Buxton asked from the other end of the table.
Wade’s thick gray brows drew together. “He feels like his audience is still growing, and he needs a bigger show. He hasn’t got the thousand likes he demanded to air the next sixty seconds of the previous video, so he’s creating a new one that he will post regardless. Only it doesn’t work out.”
Nina appreciated that Wade had referred to the video without mentioning her by name. Everyone in the room had no doubt seen it, but she didn’t need the distraction of discussing it in front of them. Still, she took a sip of cold coffee from the paper cup in front of her to hide the flush heating her face.
“And you agree with Agent Kent that he will need to blame someone?” Buxton asked Wade.
“Blame and punish,” Wade said. “A recurring theme for him. I believe he was punished severely as a child. Probably by a father figure. He vents his frustration on young girls, so something pivotal may have occurred during his adolescent years. Perhaps with a girl of that age, or perhaps with the parent who punished him. He became stuck in that phase of development and is fixated there in certain ways.”
Buxton had opened his mouth to ask another question when an agent sitting next to him got his attention. “Sir, we’ve got activity on the unsub’s Facebook page.”
Chief Tobias called out to one of his computer techs. “Get it up on the screen.”
The tech’s fingers flashed over a keyboard, and one of the monitors mounted to the wall flickered from solid royal blue to the Cipher’s page.
“Turn up the volume,” Tobias said.
The silhouette of a cloaked male figure appeared in front of a plain white wall as the live-feed of a video began.
“She calls herself Warrior Girl,” he said.
Icy dread spread through Nina at the sound of his voice.
“They call her a hero. But I know the truth.”
The room fell completely silent. Every eye riveted to the screen.
“And now it’s time for the world to know.”
Nina’s heart thudded. What could he be talking about?
“No one wanted her. Not even her parents. They tossed her in a dumpster. Threw her out with the garbage.” He leaned forward. “Because Nina Guerrera is trash. And they knew it.”
His deep chuckle shredded her nerves.
“What do you think of your hero now? Wait until you see her as I do. Nothing reveals character like pain, and, as you are about to see, she shows nothing but weakness.”
Sweat prickled her scalp as she schooled her features. Aware some eyes in the room had covertly flicked in her direction, she held herself erect and kept her gaze straight ahead.
“I’m going to show you the rest of the video,” the featureless dark shape said into the camera. “You will see exactly who you are holding up as an example for your daughters. You will watch her beg for mercy, grovel like a dog for her miserable life. She is no hero. She is a scared little girl.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “A worthless throwaway.”
The video ended, replaced by a freeze frame of Nina as a sixteen-year-old girl. The new feed began, picking up precisely where the previous one had ended. The monster pulled back the cigarette from the girl’s bare flesh, leaving her gasping and sobbing on the steel table.
Nina’s stomach roiled in protest. The room fell away and all she could see was the hideous spectacle playing out before her. Her breathing ticked up, matching that of her younger self, separate yet merged in agony.
“That was just the beginning,” he said to the girl. “I have so much more planned for you.” He bent forward and pressed the tip onto her other shoulder blade. He waited with infinite patience while she howled in pain, fighting desperately against her bonds. Then he burned her a third time, in the center of her lower back, the scorched circles of flesh forming a triangle. He dropped the cigarette to the floor and stood back, surveying his work with cold objectivity while she begged him to stop. Oblivious to her pleas, he moved closer and put his gloved hands around the girl’s throat. Then he began to squeeze as he narrated for the camera.
“Breathing. A primal instinct.” He spoke clinically, like an anatomy professor discussing bodily functions. “That’s why waterboarding is so effective. The body becomes deprived of oxygen and fights to suck in more. But there is no air to be had. After a while, you begin to black out.”
He eased his grip, and her body contorted as she struggled to fill her lungs with great heaving gulps.
“But then, you get a bit of air,” he said. “Just enough to let you stay conscious . . . so you can fully experience the next time.” He squeezed again. “If I keep this up, you will begin to spasm uncontrollably. Eventually, you will die.” He let go and stepped away to watch her thrash. “But I don’t want that. Not yet.”
Without conscious thought, Nina grasped the edge of the conference table to steady herself. She felt the monster’s large hands wrap around her throat, heard his voice echo in her head, sensed his evil presence surround her.
Suffocating her.
Nina staggered to her feet and lurched away from the table. She registered movement and saw Kent start to stand up. Wade grabbed his arm, pulling him back down into his chair.
“Let her go,” Wade said to Kent. “Give her a moment.”
The video still played on the screen. She turned away from it. Her leaden feet began to move faster, carrying her away from the ghastly show.
She pushed through the door and out into the hallway. Slumping against the wall, she slid down until her bottom met the smooth tile floor. Her head fell into her hands, tears gathering like a breaking storm.
She had promised herself she would never let him make her cry again. She had escaped from him eleven years ago, yet he had managed to torture her as if she were splayed naked in front of him again. The helplessness returned and along with it, the anguish of knowing that a monster controlled her. He decided whether she would take her next breath or not.
She began to shake. After a long moment, she realized she was no longer trembling with fear, but rage. She would not turn her power over to him. Never again. He was lashing out, trying to reclaim what had been lost to him. He blamed Nina for that loss and was meting out his punishment.
She felt that she was at a fork in the road. If her assumptions about the material from the fight club were correct, the Cipher was a fighter. He would keep hitting her, coming at her from all angles. Like the mixed martial arts combatants she had seen on television, he would constantly change his tactics, using a variety of techniques to keep her off balance.
She had been trained in judo, where a fighter uses his opponent’s own momentum against him. She would have to try that approach to have any hope of defeating the Cipher. That meant allowing herself to open up, deliberately making herself vulnerable in order to find his weaknesses. For the second time that day, she recalled her silent vow.