March 13, 9.58 a.m.
He knew everything, past and present. He knew pain and the absence of pain. He knew success and he knew failure. He had failed. They were so fucking close. He had to think. He had to do something. Something that changed the game for good. He faced the wall in full uniform. He felt the pain again. Failure.
He took Abby Goldenberg, Prisoner 144002, out of the tiny closet that had been her cell for the past few weeks, and felt the rush of pain. He pulled her into the center of the room.
‘Reject your Jewry or you die now.’ The gun rose, pressed hard against her temple. She trembled but did not speak. He had failed. Again. His superiors would be unhappy with him. Again.
‘It is a new game I have to play now, 144002. I have to hurt them. They have children who could identify me. I need to do something that will be remembered for all time. And you are going to pay too, unless you choose differently. What have you got to say?’
‘I need food,’ said Abby.
The killer snarled. ‘No more food.’
‘Please,’ she begged.
‘My boots are dirty.’ The killer twisted the barrel of the gun tighter to her temple. ‘Every day, my father made me clean his boots. And if they were not clean, he threw them into the cellar. I had to go down into the dark to fetch them. There were no lights in the cellar. It was damp and cold and so dark. I can’t tell you how dark it was. When I was in the cellar, he would shut the door and lock it. I was in the cellar for hours. When he let me out, he would inspect his boots again. But in the dark, I could not clean them well. He would throw them down those stone steps again. Again and again, until his boots shone.’
‘Your father was unkind,’ said Abby.
‘Cruel and unkind. Yes. Now open your shirt,’ he ordered. Abby remained still. ‘It is an order.’
Abby trembled and fumbled with her buttons. He dragged her shirt open and pushed it over her shoulder. ‘You are scared to die, Abby?’ He pulled a knife from his belt and held it to her chest. She shook and swayed but refused to cry out.
‘144002,’ he said. ‘Now you must choose.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘You repent now, 144002. Reject your religion. I am here to save you. You will be one of the saved. One of the 144,000. I have to help them. It is the final time, the moment, and we must be ready. Your time has come.’
She was crying. He rested the barrel on the top of her head. ‘Can you feel how close death is?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you reject your Jewry, Abby? Will you be one of our number? Reject it, as I have done. Abby? Will you?’
She looked up. She shook her head. ‘No, I will not.’
He pushed her hard and in anger. She flew across the ground. ‘You think you are better than me? I make them all reject their Jewry. You will too, when the pain is too great. I promise you, you will scream to give up your Jewry.’