Стюарт Макбрайд - The Blood Road

His eyes went wide, tearing across the three of them. Then the struggling started: bucking and writhing, accompanied by what were probably meant to be threats. It was difficult to tell with Ripcord’s hand in the way.

But it was nice to see Crowbar paying attention at last.

Marky gave him a smile. ‘Sally MacAuley wants you to have this.’

It was a lovely piece of cell-made craft — a half-razor-blade embedded in a toothbrush. And you could tell it was quality, because the guy who’d made it had melted the plastic in the toothbrush’s head first, so the blade would stay in there nice and tight. Had to admire craftsmanship like that.

Unfortunately, Crowbar didn’t seem too keen: he went absolutely berserk on the bed. But Ripcord and Charlie Bing held firm.

‘Don’t be ungrateful, Crowbar, she’s spent a lot of money on your present. The least you can do is try and enjoy it.’ Marky held the blade against the skin beneath Crowbar’s left eye. ‘And I know you’ll be worried, but we’ve got plenty of time. At least a couple of hours till they fix the CCTV. Be lights out before they find what’s left of you. And the choir will drown out any screams, so we won’t even disturb anyone.’ He let his smile spread, showing off as much of his dentures as he could. ‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’

Marky eased the blade upwards, pulling a trickle of blood from Crowbar’s eyelid.

‘Now, this might nip a bit...’