Phillip Margolin - Wild Justice

Over here, one of the men yelled. He was kneeling next to a trap door that was flush with the floor. It had been covered with a rug. Three of the men surrounded the door and aimed their assault rifles at it. The fourth man opened the door in one smooth movement while the team leader looked on. There was a narrow depression in the earth no wider or deeper than a coffin. There were blood spots on the dirt. A rank smell issued forth.

The basement is deserted, the team leader reported to the men in the van.

So is the rest of the house, the tech in the van answered. The second team had already briefed him.

We found a hidden trap door covering a coffin-size hole with what appears to be dried blood and excrement in it. He may have been holding people down there.

Keep looking for another way out, McCarthy said. If there's one hidden door, there might be another.

Tony Fiori had met his first victim on the slopes of the Ghost Lake resort. He had taken her to the family cabin, tortured her to death and buried her in the woods. Everything went so smoothly that Tony gave no thought to being caught. Teenagers don't do much planning, anyway. Tony's luck held with his second victim. Then Dominic Fiori walked in on his son in the act of torturing victim number three, and it suddenly occurred to Tony that it would be wise to take precautions.

Tony had enough money from his father's estate and life insurance to secure a private place to conduct his experiments in pain, and he soon developed a foolproof technique for purchasing his research facilities. Then he studied forensic techniques to avoid detection by police specialists. Finally he created an escape plan if the worst-case scenario occurred.

As soon as they were in the basement, Tony placed a hood over Amanda's head, slid the moveable wine rack aside and pushed her into the escape tunnel. A flashlight hung on a hook just inside the door. Beneath it was a backpack with a pistol, cash, a change of clothing, materials for a disguise, a fake passport and other false identification.

Tony barred the entrance to the tunnel from the inside, grabbed the flashlight and located the backpack. The tunnel extended a quarter of a mile under the woods behind his house. Amanda ran stooped over because of the low ceiling. Stones and roots cut her bare feet; her buttocks and the backs of her thighs bled from gashes made by Tony's knife as he jabbed her when she slowed. A half mile from the tunnel exit a car purchased with false ID was waiting. Several hundred miles away in a small Montana town was his new laboratory. Amanda Jaffe would be its inaugural subject. It was stocked with enough food to last several months. When the search for him and Amanda died down, he would leave the country and plan his future. Amanda, or what was left of her, would stay behind in Montana.

Tony felt energized by the chase. He' d heard the back door crash open seconds before he closed and bolted the door to the tunnel, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction to know that he had outwitted the police.

As they hustled along, Tony admired the way Amanda's buttocks moved ahead of him. They were lithe and well muscled, like her legs. Tony thought about the time he would spend with Amanda. Tony liked best those first lovely moments when his subjects fully appreciated the horror of their situation. He watched with night vision goggles as they awoke in the dark, confused, frightened and unaware that they were under observation. There was always a widening of the eyes, a racing of the pulse, the mad attempt to break free from their bonds. He would lose this moment with Amanda. In her case, though, there would be other compensations.

You present me with a rare opportunity, Tony told Amanda as he prodded her forward. Most of my subjects have been runaways, addicts or prostitutes. They haven't been in the best of physical condition, and I've often wondered what effect that had on their ability to tolerate pain. I' m interested to see how much pain a well-conditioned athlete can endure. We'll both learn a lot about pain in the weeks to come.

Tony suddenly grabbed Amanda's arm and yanked her to an abrupt stop while he listened for movement in the tunnel. When he was certain they were not being followed, he slapped her with the blade of his knife. She lurched forward and collided with the tunnel wall before Tony set her straight.

You were so easy to fool, Tony taunted, breathing easily as they ran. I dated you to milk you for information, just as I used Justine to find out what I needed to know to frame Vincent. Did you think our reunion at St. Francis was a coincidence? Justine told me about the interview.

Tony chuckled. You weren't much of a challenge, though I must say that your reactions to sexual stimulus were often interesting. I may see if I can bring you to climax while you're in pain. I've tried it before on male and female subjects with interesting results.

Amanda was becoming exhausted and disoriented. It was hard to breathe in the hood with the tape across her mouth, and her fear was quickly sapping her strength.

You can take some comfort in the fact that you're aiding science. You know, it was my father who inspired my interest in pain, but he wasn't very scientific or imaginative. Belts and fists were the limits of his creativity. I've far surpassed him, as you'll soon learn.

I would have loved using Vincent as a subject, but I couldn't because the medical examiner would have seen the marks. If you hadn't stopped me from killing Cardoni, the investigation would have ended and I wouldn't have had to worry about someone like you discovering my work in Peru and Ghost Lake. I bet you wish you' d stayed in the car.

They were almost at the end of the tunnel when they heard the explosion.

Looks like the police have found my escape hatch. But don't get your hopes up. They're a quarter mile behind.

Tony shoved open a trap door concealed under a layer of earth. He pushed Amanda up a short ladder, closed the door and rolled a boulder over it. Then he urged Amanda through the woods. There was no trail, but Tony knew every inch of the route to the car by heart. He did practice runs each month.

Amanda gasped for air as she stumbled forward over the stones that cut her feet. Only fear of what Tony would do if she slowed down kept her moving. Her legs trembled and she stayed upright by sheer force of will. Finally, just when she was certain that she could not go another step, she ran into the side of a car.

Stop, Tony ordered.

Amanda doubled over. Her lungs heaved. She heard the trunk pop open. Once she was in the trunk, it would be all over. Tony would drive away and her fate would be sealed.

Amanda broke away from the car and was in the woods before Tony could react. She hit a tree with her shoulder, spun and drove forward blindly. She expected to feel Tony's grip any moment, but she was still running free when a log sent her sprawling. Pain shot through her shins as she flew through space. Her head cracked against a tree trunk. She lay on the ground, stunned, yet somehow gathered herself, rolled to her side and regained her feet. A car motor started. She heard tires spinning and distant shouts. Amanda raced toward the voices, stumbled and fell to her knees.

She's over here, someone shouted.

It's okay, someone else said.

Amanda collapsed as kind hands took hold of her. Someone cut through the plastic restraints that bound her hands behind her, and someone else draped a coat over her shoulders. Another person removed the hood and the tape that sealed her mouth. With eyes blurred by tears and exhaustion, Amanda saw the SWAT team members who were scouring the woods.

Do you have him? someone shouted.

He's gone. He's disappeared, someone else answered.

Amanda, it's me.

Amanda opened her eyes and saw Mike Greene leaning over her in the back of the ambulance.