Zaber gripped the dagger embedded in his right shoulder blade firmly with his left hand and yanked it out in one swift motion. As the steel separated from his flesh, blood spurted and dripped onto the ground. The pain arrived delayed, spreading through his veins like a hot flame.
The dagger was stained with Zaber's blood as well. Without a moment's hesitation, he wiped it on the inner part of his clothing, cleaning off as much blood as possible. Then, with calm steps, he walked toward the document preparer.
The employee had crawled backward into the corner of the wall, his eyes frozen with the terror of impending death. Zaber bent down in front of him and plunged the dagger into his heart without any emotion.
Zaber turned and headed toward the desk.
He reached the desk and opened the drawer. Inside were several documents and a small, rusted box made of black iron. As he reached for it, a sudden, intense pain struck his shoulder.
