“At least you were smart enough to leave the sharps to me. You must be more suspicious than usual of this one.”

“Maybe I’m gettin’ cautious in my old age.” Worth shrugged, mixing himself a fresh martini.

“You’re not too bad off.” The interrogator snickered and poured a good half of the beer over the blonde’s head, nodding to himself as she spluttered. “Of course, that’s bad news for you. Lady, I’m sorry to say that my amateur friend’s part in this is over. Now, Worth’s a talented amateur, and he’s a real pro at his job, but he’s not me. You really need to save yourself a lot of pain and answer my questions now, instead of later.” He picked up a small scalpel and looked at it coldly, “What’s your name. Your full name.”

“Sarah Eileen Johnson,” she breathed weakly.

He looked up at Worth, who shook his head and handed him a small purse. He pulled out the already ruffled contents and looked through them.

“Driver’s license, two credit cards, a business card for Sinclair and Burke — attorneys-at-law, a few receipts, miscellaneous business cards, a little cash, a checkbook, some makeup, change… none of it new. Good documents. Very professional.” He sighed and put the scalpel down, walking over to the cabinet under the bar and pulling out a small bag. He took out a needle and a small bottle. “I always like to do sodium pentathol, first, but then I’m a bit old-fashioned.”

He injected her expertly and set the needle next to the sharps, looking at his watch. “Okay, what’s your name?”

“I’m… I’m Sarah Eileen Johnson. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Hmm… interesting.” He pulled a small flashlight out of a pocket and checked her eyes. “You want to explain to me why you’re immune to sodium pentathol?”

“I… I told you,” she stammered. “I’m a legal secretary. I handle confidential files. You… you have to get treatments and a doctor’s note or they won’t hire you.”