It was a shame the woman had died so quickly. They were not as strong as they used to be.
His mother could take far more pain without a sound issuing from her lips.
He remembered watching her one day as she patiently removed her fingernails one at a time with a knife. The point digging into the flesh beneath the nail and then levering up with a quick twist of the wrist, laying the translucent squares with their rounded edges in a neat line on a piece of embroidery.
She beckoned him forward, handing the knife to him. He was only seven at the time, but she smiled and told him it didn’t hurt. He took hold of her hand, blood dripping into his palm. He slid the point of the knife beneath the nail of smallest finger.
She sucked in a sharp intake of breath, a look of intense delight clouding her face.
He twisted the knife. Her body arched.
He took the bloody nail, wiped it on his sleeve and placed it in the neat line.
Ten nails all in a row, his mother’s hands bloody.
But he knew she loved him that day. And continued to love him until the day she killed herself.
Women were stronger then than they were now. But it didn’t matter. Sally Chen had served her purpose.
She was the first move in his game. The man in the Country Club was the second. Mustn’t make it too easy for Danilov. All the pieces were not in play yet.
And, of course, there were a few red herrings to confuse him, keep him guessing.
But it was all planned out. Yama had told him exactly what to do.
And this time, the Judge of Souls would make the final judgement.
Not long to wait now.
Danilov was a fly trapped in a web. The more he wriggled, the quicker his end would be.
He was the spider waiting to pounce.