Part 25 (1/2)

”I see a four-p.r.o.nged attack,” Bondelli said. ”There're four common essentials with insane killers.”

Thurlow started to say something, thought better of it as Bondelli raised a hand, four fingers extended.

”First,” Bondelli said, ”did the victim's death profit the killer. Psychopaths usually kill strangers or persons close to them. You see, I've been doing my homework in your field, too.”

”I see that,” Thurlow said.

”And Adele had no insurance,” Bondelli said. He lowered one finger. ”Next, was the murder carefully planned?” Another finger came down. ”Psychopaths don't plan their crimes. Either they leave escape to chance, or they make it ridiculously easy for the police to catch them. Joe practically advertised his presence in that office.”

Thurlow nodded and began to wonder if Bondelli could be right. Am I unconsciously attacking Ruth through her father? Where the h.e.l.l did she go?

”Third,” Bondelli said, ”was a great deal more violence than necessary used in the crime? Deranged people continue an attack beyond all reason. There's no doubt the first thrust of that sword would've killed Adele.” A third finger came down.

Thurlow returned his gla.s.ses to his nose, stared at Bondelli. The attorney was so intent, so sure of himself. Was it possible?

”Fourth,” Bondelli said, ”was the killing accomplished with an improvised weapon? Persons who plan set themselves up with a lethal weapon beforehand. A psychopath grabs anything at hand -- a cleaver, a club, a rock, a piece of furniture.” The fourth finger came down and Bondelli lowered a fist to the desk. ”That d.a.m.ned sword hung on Joe's study wall for as long as I can remember.”

”It all sounds so easy,” Thurlow said. ”But what's the prosecution gong to be doing all this time?”

”Oh, they'll have their experts, naturally.”

”Whelye among them,” Thurlow said.

”Your boss at the hospital?”

”The same.”

”Does . . . that put you . . . on a spot?”

”That doesn't bother me, Tony. He's just another part of the community syndrome. It's . . . it's the whole mad mess.” Thurlow looked down at his hands. ”People are going to say Joe's better off dead -- even if he is insane. And the prosecution experts you kiss off with a wave of the hand, they're going to be saying things the community wants to hear. Everything the judge says is likely to be interpreted . . .”

”I'm sure we can get an impartial judge.”

”Yes . . . no doubt. But judges invariably say the question to be determined is whether at the time of the crime the accused had not the use of that part of his understanding which allowed him to know he was doing a wrong and wicked act. That part, Tony; as though the mind could be divided into compartments, part of it sane, part insane. Impossible! The mind's a unified thing. A person can't be mentally and emotionally diseased in some fict.i.tious part without infecting the total personality. A knowledge of right and wrong -- the ability to choose between G.o.d and the devil -- is profoundly different from the knowledge that two plus two equals four. To make the judgment of good and evil requires an intact personality.”

Thurlow looked up, studied Bondelli.

The attorney was staring out the window, lips pursed in thought. He obviously hadn't been listening.

Thurlow turned toward the window. He felt sick with frustration and despair, Ruth had run away. That was the only logical, sane, reasonable explanation. Her father was doomed, no matter . . . Thurlow's muscles locked into frozen, glaring suspense. He stared out the window.

Some ten feet out, poised in the air, hovering, was an object . . . a dome-shaped object with a neat round opening that faced Bondelli's window. Behind the opening, figures moved.

Thurlow opened his mouth to speak, found he had no voice. He lurched out of his chair, groped his way around the desk away from the window.

”Andy, is something wrong?” Bondelli asked. The attorney swiveled back, stared up at Thurlow.

Thurlow leaned on the desk facing the window. He looked right into the round opening in the hovering object. There were eyes inside, glowing eyes. A slender tube protruded from the opening. Painful, constricting force pressed in on Thurlow's chest. He had to fight for each breath.