... his last thought, as he felt the garrotte tighten around his throat, was not of his family or acquaintances – all of whom loathed him. He didn’t even ask himself why he was being murdered. He knew perfectly well there were plenty who would wish him dead. Instead, ever the professional criminal, he wondered why his killer needed a knife. He could have sworn that he had glimpsed a tell tale glint of metal as the noose was slipped around his neck with the deftness of the skilled assassin. Then the final blackness descended upon him and for Soldate it ceased to matter.
... it was, though, just as well that he did not live long enough to find out the answer to his final question. The knife was put to work in such a hideous fashion that those who saw the body were quite unable to put the image from their minds.