Guilty

Chapter 6

Perry lay motionless as the cold blade scraped across his chest, not even daring to breathe lest the slightest movement cause the straight razor to cut into his skin. Ainsworth hummed along with the music, intent upon his chore, wiping the blade on a towel after each swipe. He was aware Mason was watching him, and somehow the knowledge put him in a better frame of mind. There was greater satisfaction in his work.

"You must have been very popular with the ladies, Mason."

Perry was so shocked at the seemingly innocent statement that it was a few seconds before the implication registered in his mind. Her name flickered across his mind, but he was fast enough to shield his eyes. Closing them, he turned his head, feigning indifference.

I will not allow him to draw me into his sick game. I know what he's after, and I'll suffer the tortures of the damned before I give in. Passive-aggressive behavior does not work on me.

He felt the slightest nick of the razor on his skin and his eyes opened, widening in surprise.

"Come now, Mason. We can be civil to each other, can't we? We both know what an excellent orator you are. After all, you gave a fabulous speech on the stand at my mock trial."

Perry turned his head to look into the man's face, seeing the hatred burning in the eyes. He matched the look with a cool detachment and a hard glint that clearly said, Think what you want, you bastard, but we both know the DA had you dead to rights. Ainsworth's eyes narrowed, then glowed with renewed venom.

Not missing an opportunity to let the man off with just a look, Perry stated clearly and with a hint of steel in his deep voice, "We both know it was a fair trial."

Ainsworth placed the razor's blade against Perry's cheek. His hatred was coursing through his veins, and the one on his forehead was throbbing with the intensity of his control. His rage seemed to come from the very abyss of his dark soul. And then, in what was more disarming than his emotions had been, a calm settled over his features and it was as if nothing had ever ruffled him.

"Words like that could get that face of yours scarred. The lovely Miss Street would cry at that chiseled jaw being marred."

Fear, real and unable to be contained, exposed itself on Perry's face. Being disfigured was the least of his worries. That this man would suggest how Della would react had implications he was unwilling to entertain. As long as Ainsworth focused on him, and him alone, no one else would be in danger. He wasn't in denial. He had seen the other bodies. He knew what was going to happen. But until he could successfully drive the scalpel he had secreted into the man's carotid, he had to buy time.

"You realize I saw you both that night, don't you, Mason? And I saw her again in the courtroom." His jaw clenched at the injustice of it all. "But not to worry; I am a patient man. Everything will be put to right at the right time."

Perry said nothing, but the fear in his eyes remained. Can he get to Della? The thought presented itself and he worked through it quickly. He's bluffing. Has to be. Della is safe. He's baiting an answer from me.

Ainsworth read the anxiety in Mason's countenance and laughed. It was a laugh of pure evil, tinged with madness, and the uptick in the lawyer's breathing and pulse was satisfying.

"You always get what you want, don't you, Mason? So do I. I've read about you for years, you know. Some reports of you are flattering, while others are…speculative. But I have reached my own conclusions about you." He lowered the blade from his neck, but held Perry captive with his eyes. "I get what I want, too. We are very alike, I think."

"Like hell!"

He smiled at the outburst. "Oh, I don't know, Counselor. People describe your reputation as dangerous. Others say you are brilliant but ruthless, utterly unrelenting in pursuit of a goal. I get that one, too. The ends must justify the means. Yet everyone agrees on one thing—when you set out to do a job, the job gets done. I think even you can admit the same can be said for me."

Perry growled.

"Ah, I see I have struck a nerve, so to speak. The rumors the papers print must also be true. You do care for your secretary. Tsk, tsk Mason. Such a cliche for you. The eminent attorney and his employee. Maybe when I have finished with you, I will look the lady up, just to console her."

Time itself froze as one single color engulfed Perry's view. Red. He saw red, felt red, fed on the red. Gone was his vow to remain calm. In its place was a tsunami of emotion so great he couldn't keep himself from moving. Using every ounce of strength he had left, he disregarded his constraints and made to free himself. So violent was his action that the metal gurney began to tip, causing Ainsworth to stumble backward.

Trying to keep his balance, Ainsworth grabbed for the tray holding his instruments. But because the tray was on wheels, there was no stopping his momentum. Ainsworth landed on his back, his head cracking against the hard concrete, the tray falling on top of him, sending all of the surgical instruments scattering around. Finally the gurney holding Perry fell with a crash, pinning the man's legs beneath the cold metal.

Ainsworth's howl was like that of a wounded animal. He struggled to free himself but the weight of Perry's body added to the heavy metal kept his legs firmly pinned. He pushed as hard as he could but only succeeded in causing himself more frustration and pain.

The falling gurney had served to break the rage. It also broke the one restraint Perry had been cutting, but unfortunately in doing so, also caused the hidden scalpel to clatter to the floor. He kept his free arm and hand still, hoping Ainsworth would be too angry or groggy to notice.

Ainsworth had stopped in his struggles, breathing deeply to calm himself. The situation he found himself in was untenable.

This is all Mason's fault! I'm going to make him regret this insult. What I had in mind before is now going to be doubled—no, tripled!—what was originally planned.

Looking at the man still strapped to the gurney, he noticed the fall must have knocked Mason unconscious. So much the better.

Okay Jason. You can figure this out. Damn the man. It's his fault, his fault, his fault! I have to move. If only I hadn't locked the door! I could…

He shut down the voice, concentrating on his predicament. He could still feel his legs, but the pain meant that either one or both of them were broken. He managed to grab the fallen surgical tray, pulling it to his side. By twisting the tray itself he was able to snap it free of the stand. Then turning it, grasping it by the wheels, he pushed the metal rod against the gurney.

Perry felt the pointed steel slice through the skin of his inner thigh as Ainsworth struggled to move the table that trapped him. He clenched his fists to keep from crying out, hoping that Ainsworth would still believe he was unconscious.

Seeing the trickle of red, Jason chuckled, knowing his efforts had sliced into Mason. Mustering all his strength, he pushed against the gurney, slowly moving it from his legs, until he could move back.

Sitting up, he examined his body. One leg was badly bruised. Painful but nothing more. But the other… The angle all but confirmed his supposition. Broken.

Damn, damn, damn! Now what are you going to do?

Seeing that Mason was still unconscious, he pushed himself across the floor until he could reach the door. Luckily the handle was within his reach. Turning the key in the lock, he struggled to open the door. Looking at the man who stood there, he growled.

"Well don't just stand there, you moron! Help me up!"

The insane giggle only served to anger Ainsworth more. But he knew if he was to complete his task, he had to depend on the man.

Jonathan Ainsworth looked from his brother to their special guest and giggled again. It was funny, after all, that his overly careful brother was in worse condition than the man he had picked as their plaything.

Jason looked at his brother in exasperation. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

His doppelganger grasped his brother, throwing him over his shoulder in the classic fireman's carry, and headed down the hall, still giggling, despite Jason beating on his back.

Perry, left mostly immobile, bleeding and in suspended animation, drew a ragged breath. Ball's in my court. Time to serve my Ace.