Ricky Starks breathed in hard again. He lived in a world common with false threats and fake promises, but knew immediately that the words in front of him were far different from those meandering rantings he was accustomed to hearing daily.

At first, I thought I should simply kill you to settle the score.Then I realized that was simply too easy. Youare a pathetically facile target, doctor. You do not lockyour doors during the day. You take the same walk onthe same route Monday through Friday. On weekends, you remainwondrously predictable, right down to the trip out onSunday morning to pick up the Times, an onion bagel, anda hazelnut coffee, two sugars, no milk, at the trendycoffee bar two blocks to your south.Far too easy. Stalking and killing you wouldn’t havebeen much of a challenge. And, given the ease with whichthis murder could be accomplished, I wasn’t certain thatit would deliver the necessary satisfaction.I’ve decided I would prefer you to kill yourself.

Ricky Starks shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He could feel heat rippling up from the words in front of him, like fire catching in a woodstove, caressing his forehead and cheeks. His lips were dry, and he fruitlessly ran his tongue over them.

Kill yourself, doctor.Jump from a bridge. Blow your brains out with a handgun.Step in front of a midtown bus. Leap in front of a subwaytrain. Turn on the gas stove and blow out the pilot light. Finda convenient beam and hang yourself. The method you chooseis entirely up to you.But it is your best chance.Your suicide will be far more appropriate, given theprecise circumstances of our relationship. And certainlya far more satisfying method for you to pay off your debt to me.So, here is the game we are going to play: You have exactlyfifteen days, starting tomorrow morning at six a.m., to discover whoI am.