Dr. Wick Sachs passed by me as they led him outside. He was dressed in a white cotton shirt and black trousers. All of his fine clothes were drenched through with his sweat. I imagined he was swimming in his shoes, too: gold-buckled black loafers. His hands were cuffed behind his back. All of his arrogance was long gone.
“I didn't do anything,” he said to me in the softest, choking voice.
His eyes were pleading. He couldn't believe this, either. Then he said the most pathetic thing of all. “I don't hurt women. I love them.” I was struck with a mad, absolutely dizzying, thought on the Sachs porch. I felt as if I were in the middle of a somersault, and then I just stopped. Time stopped. This is Casanova! I suddenly understood.
Wick Sachs was the original model used for Casanova, anyway. That was the monsters' plan from the start; they had a fall guy for their perfect murders and de Sade-lihe adventures.
Dr. Wick Sachs was actually Casanova, but he wasn't one of the monsters. Casanova was a front, too. He knew nothing about the real “collector.” He was another victim.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 101.
I'M THE GENTLEMAN CALLER,' Will Rudolph announced with a polite, theatrical bow. He was wearing a dinner jacket, black tie, dress shirt. His hair was tied in a tight pony-tail. He'd bought white roses for the special occasion.
“And you know who I am, ladies. You all look so very lovely,” Casanova spoke at his side. He was a striking contrast to his partner. Tight black jeans. Black cowboy boots. No shirt. His stomach washboard-hard. He had on a black fright mask with thick, hand painted median-gray streaks.
The killers introduced themselves as the women filed into the living room at the hideaway. They lined up in front of a long table.
This was to be a special celebration, they had been informed earlier in the day. “The mad dog Casanova has finally been caught,” Casanova told them. “It's all over the news. Turned out that he was some crazed college professor. Who can you trust these days?” The women had been asked to wear serious party clothes, whatever they would choose for a special night out. Gowns with plunging necklines, high-heeled evening shoes with sheer stockings, and perhaps pearls or long earrings. No other jewelry. They were to look “elegant.” “Only seven pretty ladies here now,” Rudolph noted as he and Casanova watched the women enter the living room and form a receiving line.
“You're too picky, you know. The original Casanova was a voracious lover who wasn't choosy at all.” “You have to admit that the seven are extraordinary,” Casanova said to his friend. “My collection is a masterpiece, the best in the world.” “I quite agree with you,” said the Gentleman. “They look like paintings. Shall we begin?” They had agreed to play an old favorite game. “Lucky seven.” At other times it had been “lucky four,” “lucky eleven,” “lucky two.” It was the Gentleman's game, actually. This was his night. Perhaps the final night at the house for the two of them.
They calmly walked down the receiving line. They talked with Melissa Stanfield first. Melissa wore a red silk sheath. Her long blond hair was pinned back on one side. She reminded Casanova of a young Grace Kelly.
“Have you been saving yourself for me?” the Gentleman asked.
Melissa's smile was demure. “I've been saving my heart for someone.” Will Rudolph smiled at the clever answer. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek. He let his hand slowly track down her throat an dover her firm breasts. She submitted without showing fear or revulsion. That was one of the rules when the games were played.
“You're very, very good at our little game,” he said. “You're a worthy player, Melissa.” Naomi Cross was next in the line. She had on an ivory cocktail dress.
Very chic. She would have been the belle at some Washington law firm's ball. The scent of her perfume made Casanova feel a little giddy. He had been tempted to declare her off-limits to the Gentleman. He wasn't fond of her uncle, Alex Cross, after all.
“We might come back to visit with Naomi,” the Gentleman said. He lightly kissed her hand. “Enchante.” Rudolph nodded, then stopped at the sixth woman in the receiving line.
He turned his head and checked out the final girl, then his eyes returned to number six.
“You're very special,” he spoke softly, almost shyly. “Extraordinary, actually.” “This is Christa,” Casanova said with a knowing smile.
“Christa is my date for tonight,” the Gentleman exclaimed in an enthusiastic voice. He'd made his choice. Casanova had given him a present to do with as he pleased.
Christa Akers tried to smile. That was the house rule. But she couldn't. That was what the Gentleman especially liked about her: the delicious fear in her eyes.
He was ready to play kiss the girls.
One last time.
Part Five Kiss the Girls
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 102.
