Mike staggered back, watching and waiting for Liebermann to go down.
But the old man only muttered under his breath, cocked his head to one side. 'Homebrew?' He chuckled and licked his lips. 'Yes… a compound of lignocaine and morphine, I believe.'
He's holding back the effect, Ava realized, with nothing more than the power of his mind.
'Yes,' Liebermann continued, 'such a mixture would have a considerable anesthetic effect on most victims… but not on me.' Suddenly his elderly fist shot out like a hydraulic ram into Mike's throat.
Mike crashed backward into the wall. Ava saw his startled face turn crimson and heard the sound of frothing fluid as he struggled to draw breath through his crushed windpipe.
Jack crouched to try and help Mike, and Liebermann started to chant his dark code.
Ava shrieked at the top of her lungs.