For a long second, neither person in the room spoke. Susana shifted a bit. The Bludgeon Man pointed the knife at her in warning. Jason Sullivan's blood dripped slowly from the blade.
"I have waited so goddam long for this," he said. His tone was soft and dangerous. "After everything you have done to me…you are going to pay."
Susana smiled coldly. "Am I?"
"Oh yes."
It angered him that she wasn't scared. She seemed to shake off resignation at her impending death and seemed to be just as sarcastic and patronizing as when he'd been an orderly and she'd been a resident. The bitch ought to be scared. He'd gotten to her in her den.
She was shifting around, as if trying something. Did she have a handcuff key somewhere? The Bludgeon Man had heard of that. He waggled the knife blade at her.
"No moving," he admonished.
Susana Alvarez Lecter watched him carefully and thought. The cop at her feet was dying. No help from him. She had a handcuff key similar to the one she had given Professor Creed under her own watch. What she needed was a chance to use it.
The thought of such a plebian even touching her was loathsome. She knew for a fact he wasn't going to rape her – she'd seen to that herself. Darryl Schantz would rape no more women. But the Bludgeon Man could indeed kill her. And do…worse.
As if reading her mind, the Bludgeon Man dropped his free hand to her leg. She wore a knee-length skirt and nylons. Professor Creed liked her to dress femininely, and she had been willing to indulge him so far, being fond of it herself. But Darryl's hand on her knee engendered only feelings of disgust.
Susana was far tougher than she looked, even now that she had largely left her murderous tendencies in the past. Perhaps getting him angry would be the way to get him to not notice her slipping the key from under her watch. She'd have to be careful, though. What she'd done to him once had left him only barely on this side of psychosis.
"What are you doing that for, Darryl?" she asked mockingly. "You can't close the deal. Trust me. I know. Any of the leftovers were just…flushed down the toilet."
His unlovely face twisted and his hand tightened on the knife.
"Shut up, bitch," he panted.
Slowly, he began to unpack his bag. Susana's fingers slid under her watch and began to remove the key between her watch and her wrist with the same care she used in surgery. Once she was free, she was relatively confident that she would be able to defeat Darryl. Barring that, Thomas would be coming up the stairs eventually. Where was he, anyway?
Fortunately, Darryl hadn't had the brains to search her for weapons. Clipped to the back of her skirt waistband was a Spyderco Civilian. She'd be able to rip him up good once she was able to get out of the handcuffs.
Darryl's hands were trembling with excitement. He had waited so long for this moment. With a rough gesture, he overturned his bag and let his torture implements fall out onto the bed. Then he dipped his hands into the clutter and came up with a pencil case. He opened it. A syringe glittered in his hand.
"Now we're gonna have some fun," he said.
…
Professor Thomas Creed crept up the stairs, his pistol in hand. He hadn't heard anyone behind him. Even if someone was there, Susana needed him more. Once she was free, they could take care of any cops that the annoying detective had called in to help. If there were too many, they would think of something. If it came down to it, he supposed, he would sacrifice himself so that she could get away. Professor Creed knew what awaited him in prison. He would sooner die free than go back to that stifling void.
So he crept upstairs, moving slowly and deliberately. His predator's senses were as sharp as they had ever been. He checked out the bathroom very slowly. Likewise, the spare bedroom got a thorough check. Professor Creed did not want either the Bludgeon Man or a Boston police officer to pop out behind him. There was already one person behind him, and that was all he wanted for right now. Had the situation not been so pressing, he would have gone after them immediately.
Nothing in either room. His ears pricked for the sounds of anything downstairs. The master bedroom door was closed. He had to check. Calmly, quietly, Professor Creed opened the door. What he saw threw him into a rage.
On the floor was the detective. A large amount of blood had soaked into Susana's Berber carpet. Professor Creed noted the detective's arm was severed as one of the last vestiges of rational thought in his mind before the sight of the other two people drove that from him.
Susana Alvarez Lecter lay on the bed, her hands pinned behind her. Her skirt was up around her waist and her pantyhose roughly pulled down around her thighs. The Bludgeon Man straddled her. His face was flushed red and his features twisted with rage. Had Professor Creed himself not lost himself in fury, he might have realized that the Bludgeon Man's rage was born from his inability to do what he wanted to do most to her.
In times of stress, people revert to what they know best. This is true whether the person involved is a doctoral-level professor of philosophy, a serial killer, or indeed both. Professor Creed had never liked or used guns. When he saw his fiancée and her assailant, he put the gun down. In some faint part of his mind that still remained rational, he thought that it made more sense; he was afraid of hitting Susana. He plucked the Spyderco Civilian from his belt and charged the bed. The wicked, curving blade snapped into place with a firm snick.
He tackled the Bludgeon Man from the side, forcing him off of Susana. His left arm reached to grapple the other man. His right drove the blade directly into the other man's side, piercing his kidney.
A mixture of blood and urine began to slide down the Bludgeon Man's side.
The Bludgeon Man's elbow came up sharply with the quick instincts of a man who has spent twelve years fighting off those who wanted to rape him. Professor Creed's head whiplashed back. As they fell off the bed, the Bludgeon Man grabbed his own knife.
Professor Creed plunged the Civilian into his enemy's chest and ripped up. The serrated edge of the blade, designed as a last-ditch weapon, tore viciously into the Bludgeon Man's stomach. Creed pressed the knife further, meaning to pierce his enemy's heart.
Above the struggling men, free of her assailant, Susana Alvarez managed to deploy her key and unlock her handcuffs quickly. She grabbed up a club lying amidst the Bludgeon Man's arsenal. She saw the wounds he was taking and was deeply, savagely proud of her man. She had chosen well.
The Bludgeon Man was too close in to chop with the blade very well. He tried anyway, sinking the blade partway into his foe's shoulder. Susana saw an opening, moved in quickly, and struck him on the head as hard as she could. Her strength was far greater than that of most ordinary women. The Bludgeon Man's eyes rolled, but he did not lose consciousness nor give up the fight.
The gunshot echoed in the room, loud and deafening. The scent of cordite hung heavy in the air. All four people in the room glanced up at the doorway. For a moment, no one moved.
Lisa Starling stood in the doorway, her weapon lowering from where she had fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Her eyes dropped down to where Jason Sullivan lay in a state of soupy semi-consciousness as his life's blood poured and puddle on the carpet. Then they flicked back up to Susana, standing over the two grappling men with a club in her hand.
"Lisa, this isn't what you think," Susana Alvarez Lecter said.
Lisa Starling's face took on an expression of horror and fury as she beheld the scene in front of her. Her lips split back from her teeth in a snarl. Despite everything, she still had feelings for Sullivan, and there he lay dying on the floor. A bitter, painfully clear understanding came into her eyes. Her cheeks flushed red as she gave in to her anger.
Her gun tracked down inexorably. That, at least, had remained unchanged. She was furious, but she knew exactly what she was doing. The muzzle stopped, aiming directly at Susana Alvarez Lecter's head. Susana dropped the club and put her hands in the air calmly. Sirens began to wail in the distance.
Lisa's finger began to tighten on the trigger.