Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) by Martyn V. Halm Read Free Book Online Page B

illuminated by the harsh strip lights, the naked corpse of Pascal Vermeer hung from a hook suspended from the ceiling. Lau gazed at the faces of the four aspiring members, standing around him in a semi-circle, their hands folded in front of them. His gloved right hand came up, hefting a long tapered blade.
    “In the sink behind you are four knives, one for each of you. Together you will remove the skin and flesh from the skeleton.”
    With two slashes of the blade Lau cut an inverted T across the abdomen and stepped back as the stomach and intestines drooped over the edges of the cut and flopped on the tiled floor. Although the accountant wasn’t warm anymore he was still fresh enough to smell like a butchered pig. Lau’s gloved hand disappeared inside the cavity and pulled out the rest of the entrails. Not all four managed to keep their faces bland and Lau smiled at their discomfort.
    “Twenty minutes. I don’t want any meat left on the bones.”
    They turned for the sink and divided the knives.
    Lau stepped back and joined Nicky, who offered the older man a cigarette and lit it for him. Together they watched the four knife-wielding aspiring members approach the disemboweled corpse. One of them started at the neck and cut down along the left arm, as if following an invisible seam.
    Lau watched his smoke drift to the ventilation in the ceiling.
    Strips of flesh and skin fell on the tiled floor.
    The stench of urine filled the air, mingling with the sickly sweet smell of blood, and someone cursed. Another wrinkled his nose in disgust.
    “If you think this smells bad, try disemboweling a week-old corpse.” Lau approached them, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “The stench will get into your hair, your clothes, your skin. What you eat and drink will taste of death. You will touch your woman and you’ll feel the bones under her skin. Her pliant flesh will feel like yellow fat and gristle.”
    “You’re making me hungry,” murmured the one who cut the bladder and the others sniggered. Lau nodded and said, “I like people with a sense of humour. You can be in charge of grinding the meat.”
    One of them gazed up at the starburst pattern on Vermeer’s forehead.
    “You can take the whole face off,” Lau remarked and stepped up to the corpse. The others parted to give him room and Lau made a swift cut from the left jaw, over the crown of the head to the other side. He dug his fingers into the cut at the top of the head and pulled the skin forward. The features of the corpse folded like a rubber mask, only the eyes remained in the sockets. Lau flicked his knife, severed the skin at the throat and held Vermeer’s drooping face in front of his own.  
    Nicky’s cell phone jangled petulantly and he walked to the corridor while he fished it from his pocket. Behind him, someone laughed nervously.
    “I expected you back,” Zhang spoke in Cantonese, in case anyone was eavesdropping on the GSM frequencies. “Where are you?”
    “The tiled room, Vanguard. Getting rid of the evidence.”
    “And the papers?”
    “Apparently she didn’t sign them,” Nicky replied. “Lau let her go.”
    “And you couldn’t prevent that?”
    “I was in the crane, Vanguard. I’m sure Lau will explain what happened when we return.”
    “Put him on. Now.”
    Nicky walked back into the slaughterhouse, held out his cell phone to Lau. “The Vanguard.”
    Lau looked with disgust at the phone in his hand. “I call him back from a normal phone.”
    “I don’t think he wants to wait for that.”
    “I won’t touch your phone. You mediate.”
    Nicky put the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry. Lau doesn’t want to touch my phone.”
    “I’m not in the mood for his ngong ‘radiation causes leukemia’-theory.”
    “What do you want to ask him, Vanguard?”
    Zhang’s voice became tight with fury. “Why didn’t she sign?”
    Nicky relayed the query. Lau shrugged. “She wasn’t intimidated by my threat.”
    “He