Reardon laid a scalpel on the tabletop. Betsy felt sick. She sucked air.
Reardon ignored her. She moved down the table closer to Darius.
"I have to get to work. I can't expect those fools to wait forever.
After a while, they'll decide to try something stupid.
"You probably think I'm going to kill you. You're wrong. Death is a gift, Martin. It is an end to suffering. I want you to suffer as long as possible. I want you to suffer for the rest of your life.
"The first thing I'm going to do is shoot you in both kneecaps. The pain from this injury will be excruciating and it will cripple you sufficiently to prevent you from being a physical threat to me. I will then ease your pain by administering an anesthetic."
Reardon held up the hypodermic.
"Once you're unconscious, I'm going to operate on you. I I'm going to work on your spinal cord, the tendons and ligaments that enable you to move your arms and legs. When you wake up, you'll be totally paralyzed.
But that won't be all, Martin. That won't be the worst part."
A glow suffused Reardon's features. She looked enraptured.
"I'm — also going to put out your eyes, so you won't be able to see. I'm going to cut out your tongue, so you won't be able to talk. I'm going to make you deaf The only thing I'm going to leave intact will be your mind.
"Think about your future, Martin. You're relatively young. You're in good shape. A healthy specimen. With life support, you'll stay — alive thirty, forty years, locked in the perpetual darkness of your mind.
"Do you know why they call prisons penitentiaries?"
Darius did not respond. Reardon chuckled.
"Can't fool you, can I. It's a place for penitence. A place for those who have wronged others to think about their sins. Your mind will become your penitentiary and you'll be locked in it, unable to escape, for the rest of your life."
Reardon positioned herself in front of Darius and aimed at his right knee.
"You in there. This is William Tobias, the police chief I'd like to talk to you."
Reardon turned her head and Darius moved with uncanny speed. His left foot shot up, catching Reardon's wrist. The gun flew across the table.
Betsy watched it skid toward her as Reardon staggered backward.
Betsy's hand closed on the gun as Darius grabbed Reardon's wrist to snake loose the hypodermic. Reardon lashed out with her foot and kicked Darius in the groin.
She jabbed the fingers of her- free hand at his eyes. Darius moved his head and the blow caught him on the cheek. Reardon leaped forward and sank her teeth into Darius's throat. He screamed. They smashed against the wall. Darius held tight to the hand holding the needle.
He grabbed Reardon's hair with his free hand and tried to pull her off.
Betsy saw Darius turn white from pain.
Reardon struggled to free the hypodermic. Darius let go of Reardon's hair and smashed his fist into her head several times. Reardon's grip loosened and Darius pulled away. The flesh around his throat was ragged and covered with blood. Darius grabbed Reardon's hair, held her head away from him and smashed his forehead against her nose, stunning her.
Reardon's legs gave way. Darius snapped her wrist and the syringe fell to the floor. He moved behind Reardon, wrapping an arm around her neck.
"No!" Betsy screamed. "Don't kill her. She's the only one who knows where Kathy is."
Darius paused. Reardon was limp. He was holding her off the ground so only her toes were touching. His choke hold was cutting off her air.
"Please, Martin!" Betsy begged.
"Why should I help you?" Darius yelled. "You set me up.
"I had to. She would have killed Kathy."
"Then Kathy's death will be a fitting punishment."
"Please, Martin," Betsy begged. "She's my little girl."
"You should have thought of that when you decided to fuck me over,"
Darius said, tightening his hold.
Betsy raised the gun and aimed it at Darius.
"Martin, I will shoot you dead if you don't put her down. I swear it.
I'll keep shooting you until the gun is empty."
Darius looked across Reardon's shoulder. Betsy locked eyes with him.
He calculated the odds, then he relaxed his grip and Reardon collapsed on the floor. Darius moved away from Reardon. Betsy reached behind her.
"I'm opening the door. Don't shoot. Everything is — all right."
Betsy opened the door to the courtroom. Darius sat down at the table with his hands in plain view. Two armed policemen entered first. She gave one of them the gun. The other officer handcuffed Reardon. Betsy collapsed on one of the chairs. Several policemen entered from the hall.
The jury room was suddenly- filled with people. Two officers lifted Reardon off the floor and sat her in a chair opposite Betsy. She was still struggling for air. Alan Page sat next to Betsy.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Betsy nodded mechanically. Her attention was riveted on Reardon.
"Samantha, where is Kathy?"
Reardon lifted her head slowly. "Kathy is dead."
Betsy turned pale. Her lips trembled as she tried to hold herself together. Reardon looked at Alan Page.
"Unless you do exactly what I say."
"I'm listening."
"I want what Peter Lake got. I want a pardon for everything. The cop in the hall, the women, the kidnappings. I want the United States attorney to guarantee no federal prosecution. I want the governor here personally.
We'll videotape the signing. I'll walk. just like Lake.
Complete freedom."
"If you get your pardon will you tell us where you're holding Kathy Tannenbaum?"
Reardon nodded. "And Nancy Gordon."
"She's alive?" Page asked.
"Of course. Nancy is the only one who continued to track Martin. She's the only one who believed me. I wouldn't kill her. And there's something else."
"I'm listening."
"I can give you the proof to convict Martin Darius of murder."
Darius sat rigidly at the far end of the table.
"What proof is that?" Page asked.
Reardon turned toward Darius. She smiled.
"You think you've won, Martin. You think no one will believe me. A jury will believe a crazy woman if she has proof to back up her testimony. If she has photographs."
Darius shifted a little in his seat.
"Photographs of what?" Page asked.
Reardon spoke to Page, but she stared at Darius.
"He wore a mask. A leather mask. He made us wear masks too. Leather masks that covered our eyes. But there was one time, for a brief moment, when I saw his face. just a moment, but long enough.
"Last summer, a private investigator named Samuel Oberhurst showed me pictures of Martin. As soon as I saw the pictures I knew he was the one.
There was the beard, the dark hair, he was older, but I knew. I flew to Portland and I began to follow Martin. I was with him everywhere and I kept a photographic record of what I saw.
"The week I arrived, Martin threw a party to celebrate the opening of a new mall. I mixed with the guests and selected several women to use as evidence against Martin. One of the women was his mistress, Victoria Miller. I sent a picture of Martin leaving their room at the Hacienda Motel to Nancy Gordon to lure her to Portland.
"The evening after I gathered Victoria, I followed Martin. He drove into the country to Oberhurst's house.
I watched for hours while Martin tortured Oberhurst.
When Martin took his body to the construction site, I was there. I took pictures. Most of them did not come out, because it was night and there was a lot of rain, but there's one excellent photograph of Martin lifting the body out of the trunk of his car. The trunk light illuminated everything."