The barn was perfect for Sam’s needs. The farm looked to have been abandoned for a few years now, but there was still plenty around to work with. The pliers for drawing nails out of horseshoes were antique. The hammer was just as, if not older. The coal forge that was used to heat iron horseshoes for shaping had to be a hundred years old. Even the rocking chair in which she sat waiting for Anderson to wake up was an antique. Only three things were not antiques. Her, the laptop and the camera she had setup to record and broadcast Anderson’s interrogation. Sam had taken care in setting up the camera. At first, she only focused on Anderson’s face, but after a few seconds changed her mind and pulled back so his whole body could be seen.

All Sam had to do now was wait. Everything was ready for her use. The fire in the forge was orange hot. Having been started forty minutes ago. The pliers were a nice glowing orange. The hammer had been setting in the bucket of ice for so long that it would freeze and peel skin. On the bale of hay sitting next her chair were her family needles. Next to those was her laptop. All was in readiness. All she needed was for Anderson to wake up.

For the first time in two years, an open pack of Winston cigarettes and lighter sat within easy reach. Sam sat quietly rocking back and forth smoking her fifth cigarette since arriving at the farm. Sam always hated waiting. Especially when she had her target in her sights. It had taken her father to break her of her impatience behavior. Oh, she was still known for her Maverick ways, but that was nothing more than an act. An act she had carried out for almost twenty years now. Even though she was here to extract information from Anderson, Sam was in no hurry.

She was using this time to think. The last few days she knew that she had pushed the boundaries. Her obsession with getting revenge for her family had fogged her judgment. Made her reckless. It had made her angry and distrustful of those who had become as to her as family. Not to mention her new family.

In a voice barely above a whisper Sam berated herself. “By the gods I’ve got a lot to apologize for. Three years down the fucking tubes, because I couldn’t keep my need for revenge in check. I guess I’ve spent too many years looking over my shoulder on the run from my past.”

Rolling up the sleeve of her left arm Sam looked down at the marks that she herself had cut into her own flesh. Each scar was one inch long. Each scar represented one life. They reached from the crook of her inner elbow down to the inside of her wrist. A hundred-and-four total in all. She had more to add to that count thanks to her actions of last night. This was her Blood Count. One mark for each life she taken in her pursuit of the man who had given the order for her family to be murdered.

Sam had always suspected that it was someone within the Iscariot Division. Unlike the rest of the world, Sam had never given up on trying to find the man behind her pain. The DOJ, FBI and Marshals may have relegated the murders of Capizeo family to the ‘dead case files’ but she hadn’t, not by a long shot. Samantha Justice could never really let the case go. It haunted her sleep. It occupied her thoughts during the few hours of relaxation she allowed herself. Sam’s only escape from those tortuous thoughts were during her time in the dance studio.

“You sure you want smoke around all that hay?” Lyssa’s voice coming from the laptop caused Samantha to jump. “Relax, we’re alone. Angelic is still out in the truck and the rest of the command are upstairs. It’s just you and me.”

“To what do I owe this unprecedented private ass chewing, Lyssa?” Sam snarked as she took a heavy drag off her cigarette. “By the way aren’t we breaking about half our Opsec rules.”

“No. I'll get to the point. Why you don’t trust the military side of the house?” Lyssa then asked her bluntly. “Is it because we’re not part of your big three?”

“It is not that Lyssa.” Samantha sighed then took a drag of her cigarette. “I doubt that you would understand my reasons. But I’ll try to explain.”

“I’ll listen, so long as you’re honest with me. I'll even trust you to not hold nothing back. I know about the Blood Oath.” At Samantha’s glare Lyssa sighed. “They told me. Let's hear it.”

“Fine. Water under the bridge. But before I get started, let me check on my guest. Don’t want him waking up on me too soon.” Samantha walked over to Anderson’s hanging form and placed her fingers on his neck. She then lifted one eyelid. “Yup. Still out. We got about twenty minutes before he even comes close to waking up. Damn. I really need to watch how hard I hit with that move. Then again it is a bitch trying to control the results for the Waking Death. I think only my great, great grandpa ever had any real control with that strike. Or was it my great, grandma? Never mind, we got time.”

“I saw that strike. I could tell that it was nonlethal but with the right amount of force it would turn deadly. I also know that it is not part of the Way of the Dancing Blade. Why don't you start by explaining why you’ve been withholding vital information about your skills, since it seems so important.”

“For starters it’s not called the Sleep of the Beautiful Death. That is a mistranslation by my ancestor Elisabeth DeMarco y Capizeo. The actual translation is the Great Enlightenment. Five centuries ago, a man give his word to a small band of Buddhist monks that he would never reveal what he learned as an outsider. In return; they challenged him that if he could master each step of the Great Enlightenment, in under ten years, they would let him go. Rinaldo Capizeo that earned his freedom in five years.” Sam ground out her current cigarette and lit another.

“Better to toss those butts into that forge, no DNA. And your family has kept that promise ever sense.” Lyssa now understood the problem. “You don’t want to be the Capizeo that breaks that promise or tradition. I can understand that to a degree.”

“It’s more than just that Lyssa. You see that small Buddhist Temple was high within the Himalayas. High enough to give pause to just about every type of assault. They weren’t like most Buddhists though. They didn’t seek eternal enlightenment. They lived for the joy of learning and storing knowledge. They were more scholars, teachers, poets, and warriors than holy men. They came from all over the ancient far eastern countries. Most were warriors who wanted to spent their days in peace. Each of these warriors brought their home nation’s martial art to the temple. Over time the monks took all those different forms of the martial art forms and combined them all together.” Samantha explained.

“Like what I did with Evolution. Only they did it five hundred years before I was born.” Lyssa chuckled. “Not the first time a great idea trans versed time.”

“You could say that. Only the Great Enlightenment was never meant for combat. Unlike the Way of the Dancing Blade. It was a way for the monks to hone their minds and strengthen their bodies. It took my ancestor, Rinaldo Capizeo, to turn into the deadly art form it is now.” Sam paused long enough for a drag off her cigarette. As she exhaled Sam gave Lyssa a thoughtful look. “All that’s left of those monks is the Great Enlightenment. They were totally destroyed by the Chinese Communist Party during their Religious purge of Tibet in fifty-nine. All of their work. All of their knowledge. All of their charities. Gone. Not even their temple still stands.”

“I heard that happened to many such installations, damn shame, losing all that history. So, all that remains of the sect and their works is your family. The only people in all the world who know their secrets; is your family.” Lyssa finally grasped why Samantha was so secretive about her training. It was not out of distrust, but out of a tradition that was driven bone deep in the assassin turned deputy. “I get why you’ve been so distrusting about that. I'll give on it. However, you could've given on the results without being difficult. You know that.”

“Yes. I was belligerent and admit that. I know that when we face off it’ll come down to luck and timing.” Sam said as she finally looked over at the laptop. “We both know it, Lyssa. So, don’t go kidding yourself. You’re one of the best. You could take Annette with little or no problems, but you would know that you’ve been in a fight. Anna or Maria would leave you bloody, because of their experience but you would still win because you have youth on your side.”

“If you say so.” Lyssa said blandly.

Samantha snorted. “You still believe that you’re better than me. After all that you’ve seen. Is your arrogance that great Lyssa? Is it too much for you to grasp that for once in your life there is someone out there that is just as good or better than you and your old unit? Your Evolution is barely a tick on the clock of history. You forget I sat and watched your little sparring match on the beach. I’ve also watched your operational recordings. Your Evolution holds no mystery for me.”

Samantha took a drag off her cigarette. “With the exceptions of certain strikes there is little difference between our two martial arts.”

“You’re good. I give you that. I'll even say you’re one of the best I've seen, but I still have the edge. One problem you have is you let your emotions get the better of you. You lack discipline, but you know it. It's understandable, your training started young and was interrupted. You can overcome it.” Lyssa remarked.

“Like I said, I watched your little sparring match with your old platoon.” Samantha smirked. “I will give you the fact that you have more control at times over your emotions under certain circumstances, but you’re still effected by your emotions as any other woman. You’re not a robot.”

Lyssa's expression remained unchanged. “You got a glimpse, that's all. Something for you to keep in mind; those monks only collected what was brought to them. The world did not come to them. I searched the world, not just Asia. The hashmarks, are they what I think they are?”

“That is my Blood Debt.” Samantha sighed. At Lyssa’s questioning look she explained. “Those are the number of dead I have to answer for.”

“How many?” Lyssa asked without compassion.

Lyssa had her own body count that she had never discussed. Like all Demon Wraiths, the blood she had spilled was deep enough to float a naval vessel. The only number that truly mattered to her, were the lives she ended out of pity because there was nothing else to do for them. Now that she finally had a chance to get Samantha to actually open up, she was going to understand the woman as much as could be. There were far too many holes in Samantha’s background leading to confusion.

“Enough to be a reminder of what I can become.” Was all Sam answered as she pulled her sleeve down. “There are thirty-four that need to be added to this count. I don’t know how many more before the count is done.”

“You plan on going after Delacorte on your own?” Lyssa asked bluntly.

“This is a private matter, Sergeant Major. One that is outside of the OICA’s preview. You and the others cannot get involved. I truly wish that you and the others would understand that.” Samantha took a drag off her cigarette. “This war has been waged in the shadows for longer than our nation has existed. The Iscariot Division left the Capizeo family alone for more than two-hundred years. Then, eighteen years ago; one man’s greed ended that peace. He’s the last one, Lyssa. Then I’m done.”

“Do you really believe that Samantha? Truly believe that killing Delacorte will bring you peace?” Lyssa asked.

“Oh, I know that it won’t bring me peace, or my family back, Lyssa.” Samantha sighed and took one final drag off her cigarette. “Before you say it. I know that all revenge gets you is a lonely grave in Potter’s Field.”

“No. Going in without backup and a fucking plan gets you a lonely grave, Samantha. If you're lucky.” Lyssa snarled. “You’re neither stupid nor crazy. So, why are you cutting down your chances for success by wanting to go this alone? It seems so important to you that I even offered my help, personally. I know what it's like to lose. I understand that from you. You said that's why you want him, okay, have him. I'll even help you.”

“Like I said before. This is a private war. This is also a private matter of honor.” Samantha could already tell that Lyssa was going to overrule her or at least try to. “You had your own private war long ago Lyssa. No one stood in your way. Nor did you allow anyone to help you. All I’m asking is for you and the rest of the command staff to stay out of the way.”

“No idea how you came to that conclusion, because you're wrong. Plenty stood in my way. I got one little piece of intel. There was no one to ask for help.” Lyssa stated. “The girls couldn't have told you any details, you'd have gotten it right if they had.”

“They haven’t gone anywhere they weren’t authorized Lyssa. You’re files and records are safe.” Snapped Sam. “Besides, it doesn’t take a super spy to figure out that you have a past. Nor does it take a genius to figure out that you did something about that past. I was wrong, sorry.”

“Everybody has a past. Tell me something, the maverick act. It is just that, correct?” Lyssa snarked.

“Yup! Like my mamma used to always tell us. ‘Hide in plain sight children. Wait until it is time to strike. Then fadeaway into the masses.’ Like all my lessons. I took them to heart and never forgot them.” Samantha sighed then looked up at Anderson. “Those lessons have kept me alive for the eighteen years. They’re all I have left of my parents.”

“That and your desire for revenge, Samantha.” Lyssa never took her eyes off of the assassin from her position in the TOC. “How many bodies did you pile up in those first few days?”

“One-oh-four before I walked through the doors of the James M. Ashley & Thomas W.L. Ashley U.S. Courthouse.” Samantha grabbed another cigarette and lite up. After taking a deep drag and exhaling Samantha looked down at her lap. “I got really sloppy back then. I went after a few people that didn’t deserve my rage. But then again I was foolish enough to believe that the Church would accept someone like me.”

“You were what thirteen, fourteen at the most? For fuck’s sake Sam. You were a damned kid. They betrayed you! Not the other way around. I don’t know how many kids who could have done what you did. Let alone survive on the streets with every thug and his drug buddy hunting your ass. How many days were you on the run? I want the truth. Not that bullshit you feed the Feds.” Lyssa demanded as harshly as she could.

“Ten days. I was on the run and killing Wise guys for ten days. I used everything I was ever taught by my parents to kill. I killed without remorse. I left more than a few single parent homes in my wake. Right along with wiping out a few families.” Samantha chuckled as she bared her soul to this harsh woman. “The Mob still calls that time the Reckoning. The funny part is, I could have claimed my rightful place as the Head of the Moonless Wraith Guild back then. I had the body count to back my claim already.”

“Why didn’t you? What stopped your rampage?” Lyssa knew there had to be a story behind why Stephany Capizeo stopped her bloody rampage.

“It was just after I slit the throat of Peter ‘Two Toes’ Davion in the middle of the Southern States Mall food court. I was seen by this little girl. She was maybe five or six and carrying a ragdoll. I had a choice to make. Kill an innocent or walk away.” Samantha took a deep drag. “I couldn’t kill that little girl, so I walked away. Straight into the waiting arms of the DOJ.”

A groan from Andrews drew Samantha’s attention. “Look’s like we’ll have to finish this chat later. My playmate is waking up. Time to get to work.”

TOC, Ram’s Rock Island 10:30

Lyssa, Kimberly, and Krystle had been in the TOC since 0930. They had watched the snatch of Charles Anderson their monitors. They were surprised by the smooth and almost clinical way Samantha and Angelic had pulled off the kidnapping. They would have asked Anna and Annette about the professionalism of the two women. But they were on their way to Freeport to see an OBGYN on orders from the Major. The snatch had taken place 45 minutes ago. All they were waiting for now was the uplink from Sam’s laptop.

Looking up at the mission clock Lyssa spoke up. “Krystel, is Sam’s laptop up and ready to transmit?”

“According to the signal from her phone; she’s all set. Why?” Krystle asked from her position.

“Bring up the laptop’s camera without tipping her off.” Lyssa said then put on her headset.

Krystle typed in a fast command. Three seconds later the main monitor lit up showing Sam sitting there in the barn smoking. Lyssa could tell the young woman was thinking long and hard about something. Lyssa had seen that look on more than a few faces during her life. She also knew that this might be the only chance to get the enigmatic US Deputy Marshal Samantha Justice to open up.

“Give me the room.” Lyssa ordered. The two operators gave Lyssa a strange look. “I'm going to talk with her but offer her some privacy during it.”

“Maybe that'll settle her down.” Kimberly put down her headset as Krystel did the same. “Good luck, maybe you can get through to her.”

As Lyssa waited for Kim and Krystel to leave the TOC, she watched Samantha roll up the sleeve of her left arm. There was something there that Lyssa had seen before but never asked about. She had always wanted to ask about the scars that lined Samantha’s left forearm. Once her two fellow operators were out of the room Lyssa opened the link.

“You sure you want smoke around all that hay?” Lyssa’s voice coming from the laptop caused Samantha to jump. “Relax, we’re alone. Angelic is still out in the truck and the rest of the command are upstairs. It’s just you and me.”

“To what do I owe this unprecedented private ass chewing, Lyssa?” Sam snarked as she took a heavy drag off her cigarette. “By the way aren’t we breaking about half our Opsec rules.”

Lyssa stood there talking with the one member of the Black Badges that was the biggest mystery. The more they talked the more Lyssa realized that there were more ghosts haunting Samantha than just about everyone else on the island. Lyssa could also tell that if Samantha had been allowed into the military instead of law enforcement, she still would have been denied an elite status. Despite the recent admission of two women into the Ranger program, SpecOps at large was still segregated by gender.

Lyssa nodded at Samantha’s comment when Andrews groaned. “Looks like we’ll have to finish this chat later. My newest playmate is waking up. Time to get to work.”

“Before you start playing Samantha. Are you sure you want to give us the full Monty there? We can work with just the head shot.” Lyssa asked her.

“You want full disclosure you get full disclosure. No more secrets. No more hidden agendas.” Samantha took one last drag off her cigarette. “But remember one thing Lyssa. This is a two way street. Maria maybe the Marshal, but I’m the final answer for my team.”

“Wrong Samantha. If shit goes wrong, you get pulled and we go in. You’re not the final solution. I am.” Lyssa snapped.

“You think that I haven’t felt their eyes on the back of my neck.” Samantha chuckled. “I know that you and the Major have had Tiffany and Shawna in overwatch on this mission from the start. I won’t even go into how many times the military side of the house as stepped in on our operations.”

“We always have backup in place. For everybody.” Lyssa grunted.

“BULLSHIT! You bitch about us not trusting you and the military side of the house. Well sister that is a two way fucking street. Because until you start trusting this team, Lyssa. There will always be a level of distrust between the two sides of the house.” Samantha snapped.

Samantha gave Lyssa a hard cold look as she sighed. “You still don’t get it after all this time. Law Enforcement is messy at the best of times. The only way to get the job done and stay off the radar is the way we operate. No set plan, only a general outline. Because no matter how many variables we consider, there is always something that we miss. Which is something that drives you fucking batshit crazy. Because you can’t control everything. Not in this type of operation. The only member of your team that does understand this is maybe Shawna because of her background in Law Enforcement. We don’t operate like a normal investigative team, Lyssa. We’re Manhunters with Dead or Alive warrants. That means body counts. Never forget that.”

“Number One: We're not babysitters. The Colorado Op? We were here or other places, not sitting you. You know EXACTLY where we were and what we were doing. The Ohio Op, only Shawna was with you and you needed her to run interference with the multiple agencies. The Carolina Op: Shawna was only there to get Anna and the girls in for their cover. And in case you forgot, one of you almost didn't come back from that one. Bobby and Hunter would have gotten over the loss quickly, but not Maria, Annette, you or the girls. The five of you would have been devastated. The Styx? No way any of you could have pulled that off. You had NO training for it and don't pretend for a second you could've managed.” Lyssa reminded her. “Number Two; Body counts. Even Krystel's confirmed count outnumbers your confirmed and unconfirmed put together. Don't ever bring that up again, we'll bring up reports and you'll be humiliated. We've extended so much trust in you all. When I was asked about returning you to the field as the black badges; I was all for it. I said it was a chance to show that you weren't just renegades, malcontents and murderers for hire.”

This was new to Samantha. “You said that?”

“You bet your ass I did! Why the hell do you want to prove me wrong? Hardheaded or just an uppity snot wanting to justify a chip on your shoulder? The reason I'm all over your asses now; is so you ALL come back and come back ALIVE! Not for the Major, not for my kids, not for Mindy. FOR EVERYBODY!” Lyssa growled.

Samantha was surprised. She had never imagined Lyssa felt that way. “I see now.”

“Answer a question for me Sam and before you answer know, that I’ve looked at your Marshals Service record. Back when you worked Cold Case. How many of those outstanding Dead or Alive warrants did you close with a bullet? Give me an honest answer. I’ve read enough AAR’s to know when a report has been sanitized.” Lyssa almost demanded.

Samantha’s answer was as clear as it was cryptic. “Not all were closed by my hand, Lyssa. More than a few bounty hunters and random people defending themselves collected on those warrants. All I did was file the paperwork and pay the bounty.”

Sam’s finale comment left Lyssa with more than a little to think about. She had heard about civilians taking down known felons but had doubted receiving the bounties. Lyssa could read through the lines. Sam might not have been the one to collect the bounties, but she made sure that the warrants were carried out.

“Before I get started, I will give you one piece of advice Sergeant Major. I suggest you listen closely. You got one major blind spot. One that will get you killed.” At Lyssa’s blank look Samantha sighed. “You believe that military training is the end all be all. Hate to tell you this, but I can gather a force of civilians that are just as deadly if not more so, with one phone call. You constantly underestimate the professional civilian. Keeping doing that and sooner or later it’ll get you dead.”

Sam sighed once more as she looked back over Anderson. “Unlike you, I’ve never made that mistake. I treat every target as the last one. That’s all I got Lyssa. Take it or leave it but it’s all up to you.”

“Hope they'd be all criminals. I'd make one call and have them all wiped off the face of the planet. It's not that I underestimate civilians. I don't underestimate you. You're forgetting why I am the way I am. I am because that's the way I am supposed to be. I had only one choice. This way, or no way. You're going back to trying to prove me wrong again. I had high hopes for you. Are you going to throw it all away just to be obnoxious or go to work and be who I think you can be; a person who works for the sake of a better world?”

Samantha reached over and turned on the camera. “Call the others back in Stronghold. I got work to do and time is running short.”

Farm of Yohan Strouse, New York

Samantha double checked that most of Anderson’s body was in the shoot. The first thing she did was to tighten the ropes that held Andrews suspended spread eagle. Reaching down she grabbed the pliers from the forge. She let the cruelest of smiles cross her face. Stepping around in front, but slightly off to the side. Sam reached up and slapped the piss out of Anderson.

“Wake up fuck stick!” Sam slapped him a second. “Look cocksucker. I don’t have time to play around with your ignorant ass. I know you’re wake. Now open your fucking eyes, before I peel them open with these pliers.”

When Andrews just kept his eyes shut and hung there, Samantha let out a put upon sigh. Grumbling to no one in particular. “God save me from boneheaded, pea brained, money grubbing, narrow minded, shortsighted, jackasses.”

Samantha grabbed the end of Anderson’s penis with the red hot pliers. Naturally Charles howled as his foreskin blistered and peeled. “Now that I have your attention, Charley. Let’s dispense with the bullshit posturing. You can either tell me what I want to know and be honest about it. Or I can rip the information from you. Either way I’m going to get the information I want and need. How that happens; is all up to you.”

“FUCK YOU! BITCH! DO YOU REALIZE WHO I AM?” Andrews screamed as Sam squeezed the foreskin of his penis.

“Oh, let’s see.” Samantha pulled out a flip-page note pad. “Ah, here you are Charles Irwin Anderson, arms dealer, art and drug smuggler, white slaver, money launder for the Cartels and basic all around, scum-sucking-douche bag. I miss anything?”

Tossing the pliers into the forge Samantha grinned evilly. “And right now. My latest fucking playmate.”

Stepping around behind Anderson, she picked up the hammer that she had hidden from his view. Leaning close to his ear Sam staged whispered. “You know what? I’ve always wondered about something. They say that after heating metal to certain point, it no longer feels hot to the touch. Instead, they say, that it feels like your being hit with ice. You see according to the docs, all that extreme heat fries the nerve ends before the pain signals reach your brain. Be sure to let me know.”

With that Sam jammed the hammer’s iron head between Anderson’s butt cheeks. The icy cold metal had the desired effect on Anderson’s mind. The man screamed for all he was worth. Even as he bucked against the ropes that held him suspended in the air. Samantha never let the head of the hammer get too far from his skin. After a few seconds Sam returned the hammer to the ice bucket trying not to laugh at tricking him.

Samantha never let the cruelty leave the insane smile that she wore. She remembered the lessons at her father’s side. The first of which is never let the subject of your interrogation realize you’re actually sane or human. Running her hand down Charles’s chest Samantha whispered into his chest.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you. Please don’t disappoint me. I want you to hold out for as long as possible. My last playmates broke in under fifteen minutes. You might know them; Sylvia Price and Ronald Vickers?” Samantha let her words drip from her tongue as if they were honey in the August sun. “Sadly, Sylvia’s poor little Carrie succumbed to the pleasures of my needles before I was able to have any real fun. I hope you last longer than she did. I think she died from a sexual overload to the brain.”

Turning to the hay bale Sam picked up the first of many needles. “You know something. I’ve always wanted to try and break my grandfather’s record. He was able to use forty-two needles before his subject died.”

Sam looked up at Andrews and licked the first needle. “You look strong enough that I might actually be able to reach forty. If I’m nice about it.”

TOC Ram’s Rock Island.

“I know that Sam has a mean streak, but this is a whole new level of cruelty.” Kimberly commented as she watched play with Anderson’s mind.

“Remember that Samantha Justice is the product of centuries old training.” Lyssa admitted to the other two operators. “Her and Annette. Unlike us they were raised in a world filled by a tradition of spy craft and assassination. It came with the name. The DeMarco, and Capizeo families are the most feared of the Old World Mafia families for more than one reason. I'm surprised she didn't wet herself laughing over the ice hammer bit.”

“What the hell is she doing with that needle? Oh, I hope she sanitized it after using it last time.” Krystel asked as she watched the video feed. “By the way, what did you say to get her to show everything?”

“Nothing. She did set this all up on her own.” Lyssa answered without turning around. “She also tried to pull the trust is a two-way street card.”

“Is she still hung up on that bullshit excuse?” Kimberly sighed.

“She thought it was valid.” Lyssa sighed. “She has her reasons for thinking that way. I guess it is my fault. Maybe I should have given her the no-shit briefing and pep-talk.”

“Oh, come on Lyssa. That girl has had a chip on her shoulder from the day she got here. Personally, I think that you should have just kicked her ass on day one and been done with it.” Krystel grumbled. “She has to be the biggest loose cannon in the Black Badges. We’ve had proof of her going off the reservation before they ever set foot on the island.”

“She did and didn’t, Krystel. Yes, she went after a target on her own. Yes, she handed out her own form of Justice. Yes, she broke about ten Federal statutes. Only one problem with that whole scenario.” Lyssa grunted. “Samantha Justice was, and still is a US Deputy Marshal. The woman was a legalized manhunter. She was and still is one of the best. All she has ever done is her duty. She did what she had to do to protect her Witness. Granted, the only argument might be her creative manner. I saw no problem with it myself.”

“Nothing more than what we would do.” Kimberly said quietly. “What else was said that brought about this change, Lyssa?”

“She thought she needed to remind me the military way of doing things isn’t the only way of reaching the top. That there are civilians out there that are just as deadly if not more so.” Lyssa finally turned to look at the rest of the command staff.

Kimberly asked. “Really? Like we don't know that? Terrorists, cartels, serial killers, rogue mercenaries; yeah we're totally clueless.”

“Said she watched our operational videos. Guess she didn't pay attention as much as she implied. Hopefully I reminded her of what she's supposed to be doing.” Lyssa remarked, watching the monitor.

Krystel asked. “Not being a criminal?”

“Yep.” Lyssa replied then turned to head up. “Maybe I can get some coffee before she breaks him. She's on a roll with him, he won't last long.”

Kim called. “I'll call if she gets there before you get back.”

Farm of Yohan Strouse, New York

Sam slowly inserted her first needle between Anderson’s L4 and L5 vertebrae. As Andrews tried to pull way screaming, Sam chuckled. “Now, now, Charley. Don't go doing that. You’ll ruin my fun.”

“When I get loose, I’m going to pluck out your eyes and skull fuck you to death, bitch.” Andrews ground out.

Sam forced the giggle as she took the next needle and slowly inserted it into the space between Anderson’s L3 and L4. This time Sam wasn’t gentle. She twisted the needle as she pushed. With each millimeter and twist Sam increased the pain. Once the needle was halfway through Anderson’s spine Sam stopped. “There; now I can really fuck with your lower body.”

“What do you want? Money? I can pay you a ten times whatever it is you’re being paid now. Just name your price.” Andrews offered. He knew that he could buy this mad woman off. Not that he would. Once he was free, he would have his men rape the bitch until she bled to death.

“Oh, Charley, you poor deluded fool.” Sam picked up the next needle then inserted it through Anderson’s left nipple. “You couldn’t pay me enough to turn you lose now. Don’t you see? Now that I have you. I just have to rip everything you know out into the open.”

Inserting the next needle through his right nipple Sam grinned evilly into his eyes. “You see. I’m your confessor, and executioner. I can't let you go.”

For the next half hour Sam slowly inserted needle after needle into Anderson. She kept the man on the edge of sanity through pain and pleasure. Never once asking him one question. She waited until she was on needle thirty-two before she asked her first question. “Now, that you’re good and primed. Where are your offshore accounts and what are your passwords?”

“Switzerland, the British Virgin, Cayman, Cook Islands and Cyprus. Those are the only ones. I swear. Please stop.” Andrews was so close to losing his mind. “You can have it all. Just please stop.”

“I need your passwords, Charles. Without those, I can’t stop.” Samantha grinned. Then inserted the thirty-third needle through the base of his penis. Charles Irwin Andrews finally broke. As the involuntary orgasm gripped his mind, he knew that his time among the living was nearing its end.

“Redemption nine-twenty-one. My passwords are always redemption nine-twenty-one.” As Charles shuttered in release, Samantha sighed.

Something on the laptop caught Sam's attention. She could see Lyssa make the money sign and a thumb's up. Samantha nodded back. The accounts were being drained to an operational account.

“Very good Charley, very good. Now I want you to tell me exactly who your contact is in the State Department. I need to know how you and your friends got your hands on those high-security safes.” Samantha asked sweetly as she drew the needle down the length of his still erect penis. “Tell me that and I won’t use this next needle.”

“Donald Abrams!” Charles practically screamed. “He’s our connection.”

“Oh Charley, you were doing so well.” Samantha sighed as she shoved the needle through the middle of Anderson’s penis. “I know that was a lie. Donald Abrams is dead. For too easy for you to go blaming him. Now who is your real contact? Tell me and I’ll let you feel pleasure again.”

“I don’t know anyone else! I swear! I was introduced to Abrams by one of my other contacts. I got proof. It’s in my safe.” Andrews breathed out through the pain. He knew that there was no hiding the truth from this demonic woman.

“Where is the safe? What’s the combination?” Sam asked quickly.

“It’s in my main office on Maple drive. The combination is fifty-nine, seventeen, thirty-one, eleven, twenty-three.” Screamed out the combination as Sam ruthlessly inserted her next needle into a nerve bundle just below the left arm pit.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about that safe or how you were able to get ahold of it?” Sam questioned him almost politely.

“The connection that put me into contact with Abrams is a member of the Catholic Church’s Iscariot Division. A Monsignor Jonathan Delacorte. He used to be a member of the Great Lakes Organized Crime Families.” Charles Irwin Andrews proceeded to tell Samantha everything.

He confessed every crime he had ever committed. He told her how he worked his way up through the shadowy world of organized crime. How he got his start as a low level gunrunner for the CIA. How he first met Delacorte during one of his smuggling operations into the Balkans during the latest uprisings. For every crime he confessed Samantha inserted a new needle.

By the time he was done with his confession Samantha had reached forty-three needles. She may have broken her grandfather’s record, but she also realized that Andrews had reached his limit. One more needle and the man would die.

“I have one more question Charles. Did you know about Sylvia Price’s little sex slave business? Be honest now. You know that you can’t lie to me.” Sam told the man sweetly as she ran the point of her next needle down his sweaty and bloody torso. “If I use this next needle. You will die. Tell me what I want to know, and you get to live.”

“Yes, I knew all about her sex slave racket. I even moved her completed product for her. I used my smuggling contacts to deliver her slaves to their owners. There’s a ledger book in my safe. It has the names of all the buyers.” Andrews panted out between shivering breaths. “That’s it. I swear.”

“How much were you paid for your smuggling operations?” Sam snapped.

“Half a million for every slave. It’s all in the ledger.”

“The code. What is the code for reading the ledger Charley?” Sam squeezed his bloody scrotum as she asked the man. “You’re too smart to not use a code.”

“It’s a transposition cypher. The key is a second edition of ‘Starship Troopers’ by Robert Heinlein. Page 43, paragraph 2.” Charles whimpered.

“Thank you, Charles. You’ve been very helpful.” Sam smiled as she turned to the camera and laptop. “Did you get all that Stronghold?”

“Got it all White Swan. Accounts diverting as we speak.” Lyssa answered. “Do you think he has anything more to add or is he empty?”

“He’s done, Stronghold. This wenny is cooked. He’s got nothing left to give.” Samantha answered truthfully. She knew that Andrews was empty.

“You’re cleared for disposal.” Lyssa ordered.

“Whelp, it looks like we’re done here, Charley.” Samantha sighed as she picked up the last needle. “Sorry I can’t keep you around. I have really enjoyed my time with you. Sadly, like all good things. This too must come to an end. When you get to Hell, say hello to Sylvia for me.”

With that final jab at the man’s sanity. Samantha slid the last needle between his ribs and into his ascending aorta. With a sudden twist and yank she severed the artery ending the man’s life. It didn’t take Charles long to bleed out. It took only minutes.

Sam looked back at the laptop and camera. “He’s done Stronghold. Contact the Marshal and Major. Inform them that with the exception of Tango Bravo’s safe. All lose ends stateside have been tied up.”

“Copy that White Swan. What are your plans for the body and safe?” Lyssa asked her.

“Handing off to the safe to the boys in blue. As for the body.” Sam looked around at the decades old barn. “I figure that the rats and other vermin will take of it. By the time anyone finds Andrews he’ll be nothing more than a pile of bones. Why? You got a better idea?”

“There should be an incendiary grenade in your Load-out. Cover the body in a few bales of hay then pull the pin and set it on top.” Lyssa offered. “What I want to know is why you let him off so easily?”

“He was dead already, Sergeant Major.” Samantha answered as she started removing the needles from the corpse of Charles Anderson. “His body just didn’t know it yet. He started dying after I inserted the needle through the base of his penis. He had maybe ten to fifteen minutes left. All I did was shut down the heart.”

As she removed a needle Sam wiped it down with an alcohol soaked cloth before returning it the leather bundle. She treated each one with extreme care. “I really need to run these babies through an autoclave when I get back to the island. Don’t remember the last they were thoroughly cleaned.”

“How old are those needles Sam? Can they handle an acid dip?” Kimberly asked.

“My great grandfather used them during World War One. So, they’ve been in my father’s family for at least a hundred years.” Sam smiled as she pulled the needles out of Anderson’s spine. “Why?”

“Just wondering where your family learned how to extract information like that is all.” Kimberly answered. “This is the second time we’ve seen the results of you using them to extract Intel.”

“Maria said something about your father teaching you how to use those needles to gain information. Where did your father’s family learn how to use them?” Lyssa questioned her. “The technique is a cross between acupuncture and chakra. Is it Chinese, Hindu or a blend?”

“It was taught to one of my ancestors on my father’s side in the eighteenth century.” Samantha chuckled. “Unlike my mother’s family the DiStefano family were rather progressive for the times. Unlike most Italian families of wealth. They didn’t suffer from the normal racism of the day. A good example of this was the family cook at the time. A kindly old gentleman from what is now known as the Shanxi Provence.”

“Holy Shit! Just how far back does your family’s connection to the Ancient Far East go, Samantha?” Kimberly demanded. “And I don’t mean just the Capizeo side of the family. I mean both sides.”

This time Samantha just chuckled. “The Capizeo and DiStefano families have ties going back to the time of the silken road. To before the Great Betrayal. Before Leonardo di Vinci even dreamt of painting the Last Supper. If that gives you any idea of how far back our ties go in history to China.”

Samantha removed and cleaned the last needle with a chuckle. “You’ve wondered why the Capizeo family are feared above all the other assassins in the world. Well the simple truth of the matter isn’t because of the Great Enlightenment. It’s because we always find the truth. That is our greatest and deadliest weapon. A weapon that we hone to a razor’s edge.”

“Your family learn the greatest fundamental truth about combat that the military took centuries to learn.” Lyssa said as she nodded her head. “Hard provable Intel is the greatest asset any Army can possess.”

“Are you trying to say that knowing is half the battle, Lyssa?” Kimberly groaned as the Operations Boss just nodded her head.

Sam just chuckled as she cut the ropes holding Anderson suspended. Stepping over to the laptop and camera Sam smiled. “In the words of my grandmother, Captain. If it’s corny but true, then it isn’t corny. I’ll contact you once I’m clear. When you contact the rest of the ground team inform them that we’re clear and they can head for the pickup point.”

“What about you and the November Tango. What are your plans?” Lyssa demanded.

“Drop what I have in the laps of the State boys. Then bug the fuck out.” Samantha sighed. “After that, I plan on rendezvousing with the rest of the team at Biggs Reserve Air Force Base.”

“You planning on coming home before heading for Rome?” Lyssa asked her.

“Nope. I plan on getting a rental car on my way. After I turn over Big Blue to the rest of the team me and Angelic will be snagging the first thing smoking out of Albany.” Samantha gave Lyssa a friendly smile. “I have to do this on my own Lyssa. Don’t worry. I won’t be going off the reservation this time. Not this time anyway.”

“How do you figure that?” Lyssa asked.

“The Marshal has already talked with the Major about this contingency. And has received full approval. Monsignor Johnathan Delacorte, a.k.a. Alfonzo Delicato, former Under-boss and missing Consigliere for the Calabrese family out of Detroit Michigan, is under a Lethal Finding.” Samantha snarled. “One that I plan on carrying out, personally.”

“We know that he’s under a Lethal Finding Samantha. Why won’t you let us help? I did offer.” Lyssa reminded. “And don’t give that bullshit about it being a personal matter of honor. That's One-Way-Ticket talk.”

“This is about more than revenge Lyssa. This is one time that your fame as a Prima will be a bigger handicap than ever before.” Samantha held up her hand to stop Lyssa from countering. “There isn’t a man, woman, or child in all of Italy that doesn’t know your face. You’ve reached the same level as Maria the Dove DeMarco. I can go where you cannot.”

“And just where is that?” Lyssa sighed.

“I can walk the very halls of the Vatican unseen in broad daylight.” Sam chuckled. “Nobody will notice one more nun among the faithful.”

Lyssa arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn't that be a blasphemy? Come now; aren’t you a good catholic girl?”

“I could swear you were teasing me.” Sam stated.

Slowly Lyssa smirked.

Sam finally rolled her eyes. “You were!”

“Come in with the others. We'll get you two into Italy with no problems. Promise.” Lyssa stated.

Samantha sighed. “Fine. I'll hold you to that.”

Lyssa nodded. “And hope returns. Stronghold, out.”

-----tbc-----

As always kudos and comments are welcome. They are after all the life's blood of all authors. They feed our muses.