This Washington Street hardware store was tiny but it had everything. He found an X-Acto number two knife with a long slim aluminum handle and a sharp-pointed number eleven blade.
Perfect for cutting off eyelids.
At least Hank thought it would be perfect. He shuddered at the thought of it happening to him. Something like that would never even have occurred to him. But Szeto seemed pretty comfortable with it. Like maybe this wouldn't be his first eyelidectomy.
Be the first for Hank. He was kind of looking forward to it. He'd never tortured anyone. Before becoming King of the Kickers, he'd earned his daily bread alternating between a knocker and a sticker in a slaughterhouse. The former involved shooting a steel bolt into cows' heads to knock them out; the latter meant slitting the cow's throat as it hung by a back leg from an overhead rail. So blood and guts were no problem.
Especially this guy's blood and guts. The son of a bitch had stolen his Compendium of Srem. But worse than that, he'd made a fool of Hank while doing it, right out in public on the streets of New York. Nothing too bad could happen to this guy.
But the thing was, Hank didn't want the guy to die before he told him where he'd stashed the Compendium. Or if he'd sold it, who to.
He found a pair of needle-nose pliers. Might be good for yanking off fingernails. He added that to his shopping basket and moved on till he came across some Drano Kitchen Crystals. Sprinkle some of that onto lidless eyes ... oh, yeah.
He kept shopping ...