Mr. Murder. By: Dean R. Koontz

better-quality projection system capable of displaying television, video

tape, or laserdisc images on a five-by-six-foot screen. It was a plush,

windowless space. There was even an antique Coke machine which, he

learned later, dispensed the soft drink in classic ten-ounce glass

bottles, plus a candy-vending machine stocked with Milk Duds, Jujubes,

Raisinettes, and other favorite movie-house snacks.

Because of the music in the film, he found it easy to creep up behind

the Senator and overpower him with a chloroform-soaked rag, which he

pulled out of a plastic bag a second before putting it to use. He

carried the politician upstairs to the ornate master bath, undressed

him, and gently conveyed him into a Roman tub filled with hot water,

periodically employing the chloroform to assure continued

unconsciousness. With a razor blade, he made a deep, clean incision

across the Senator’s right wrist (since the politician was a southpaw

and most likely to use his left hand to make his first cut), and let

that arm drop into the water, which was quickly discolored by the

arterial gush. Before dropping the razor blade in the water, he made a

few feeble attempts to slash the left wrist, never scoring deeply,

because the Senator wouldn’t have been able to grip the blade firmly in

his right hand after cutting the tendons and ligaments along with the

artery in that wrist.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, administering chloroform every time the

politician groaned and seemed about to wake, he gratefully shared the

sacred ceremony of death. When he was the only living man in the room,

he thanked the departed for the precious opportunity to share that most

intimate of experiences.

Ordinarily, he would have left the house then, but what he had witnessed

on the movie screen drew him back to the media room on the first floor.

He had seen pornography before, in adult theaters in many cities, and

from those experiences he had learned all of the possible sexual

positions and techniques. But the pornography on that home screen was

different from everything he’d seen previously, for it involved chains,

handcuffs, leather straps, metal-studded belts, as well as a wide

variety of other instruments of punishment and restraint. Incredibly,

the beautiful women on the screen seemed to be excited by brutality. The

more cruelly they were treated, the more willingly they gave themselves

to orgasmic pleasure, in fact, they frequently begged to be dealt with

even more harshly, ravished more sadistically.

He settled into the seat from which he had removed the Senator.

He stared with fascination at the screen, absorbing, learning.

When that videotape reached a conclusion, a quick search turned up an

open walk-in vault–usually cleverly concealed behind the wall

paneling–that contained a collection of similar material.

There was an even more stunning trove of tapes depicting children

involved in carnal acts with adults. Daughters with fathers.

Mothers with sons. Sisters with brothers, sisters with sisters. He sat

for hours, until almost dawn, transfixed.

Absorbing.

Learning, learning.

To have become a United States Senator, an exalted leader, the dead man

in the bathtub must have been extremely wise. Therefore, his personal

film library would, of course, contain diverse material of a

transcendent nature, reflecting his singular intellectual and moral

insights, embodying philosophies far too complex to be within the grasp

of the average film-goer at a public theater. How very fortunate to

have discovered the politician lounging in the media room rather than

preparing a snack in the kitchen or reading a book in bed.

Otherwise, this opportunity to share the wisdom in the great man’s

hidden vault would never have arisen.

Now, curled fetally on the back seat of the Buick, he may be temporarily

blinded in one eye, bullet-creased and bullet-pierced, weak and weary,

defeated for the moment, but he is not despairing.

He has another advantage in addition to his magically resilient body, .’.. , .

unparalleled stamina, and exhaustive knowledge of the killing arts.

Equally important, he possesses what he perceives to be great wisdom,

acquired from movie screens both public and private, and that wisdom

will ensure his ultimate triumph. He knows what he believes to be the

great secrets that the wisest people hide in concealed vaults, those

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *