Sir Henry opened his mouth to cry out, terror surging through him, but a gloved palm was slammed hard across it.

Then, very slowly, the bloody knife moved towards his face until the tip of the blade took up his whole field of vision.

'Do you want me to cut your eye out?' asked the man in the mask. His voice was harsh and guttural. Sir Henry recognized the accent as Northern Irish.

Sir Henry made desperate 'no' noises under the glove. He shut his eyes as the blade advanced, felt it touch the skin of his eyelid.

'I'm going to remove my hand now,' continued the man, his tone even, almost conversational. 'If you scream, I'll blind you. Do you understand?'

Sir Henry's muffled yeses seemed to convince him and he took away both the hand and the blade in one movement.

'Please don't kill me,' Sir Henry begged, hugely aware of his utter helplessness. God, he should have known that this would happen. These people were animals… and somehow he'd allowed himself to get involved with them. It was like some kind of terrible nightmare.

'We hear you're getting cold feet, Sir Henry,' continued the man in the wolf mask, running the blade gently down his belly, scraping up Nadia's blood.

'No, no, I'm not. I swear.'

'Don't lie. If you lie, you lose an eye. Do you understand that?'

'Yes, yes, I understand. I do.'

'Good. I executed the girl so you'd know to take what I say seriously.'

'There was no need to do that. I would have taken you seriously.'

Sir Henry had a feeling that the man was smiling behind the mask.

'No,' he said, 'I don't think you would have done. But you do now, don't you? If I can kill a young woman, imagine what I could do to you. Or your wife. Or your daughter. What's her name? Jane, isn't it?' He twirled the tip of the blade through the mass of Sir Henry's pubic hair. 'She's a pretty thing. I saw her coming out of your house the other day. Yes, very pretty.'