The knife pressed into the flesh at the center of his chest, cutting just into the skin. A clean straight, nearly surgical cut. "Wrong answer. John told us about those places. They have been checked," the man said, reaching to the table to grab a bottle of a clear liquid. "Rubbing alcohol," the agent said, "guaranteed to sting like a bitch in any small cut, but just imagine what it could do to a deeper opening. Well," he cocked his head slightly to one side, "Let me refresh your memory how how it feels on a small cut". With that he squeezed a bit of the alcohol straight into the cut.