Roses Are Red

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve

"CROSS!"

I reached out both hands to try and stop the arm chopping down toward me. The hunting knife it held was much like the ones on display in the other room. My hands wrapped around the powerful arm. If this was Szabo, he was stronger and a lot more agile than he'd looked at the hospital.

"What are you doing?" he screamed. "How dare you? How dare you touch my personal property?" He sounded completely crazy. "These letters are private!"

I pivoted off my right leg and yanked the hand holding the knife sharply. The blade stuck several inches into the wooden desk. The masked man grunted and cursed.

Now what? I couldn't chance bending down to get my gun from my ankle holster. The masked man easily wriggled the knife free. He swung it in a small lethal arc. He missed the thrust by a few inches. The blade whistled past my temple.

"You're going to die, Cross," he screamed

I spotted a cut-glass baseball on his desk. It was the only thing resembling a weapon that I saw anywhere. I grabbed it. Sidearmed it at him!

I heard a crunching sound as the paperweight struck a glancing blow off the side of his skull. He roared loudly, angrily, like an injured animal. Then he wobbled backwards. He didn't go down.

I bent quickly and pulled at my Clock. It hitched once, then came free in my hand.

He flailed at me again with the large, lethal-looking knife.

"Stop!” I yelled," I will shoot you."

He kept coming. He roared out words that were unintelligible. He took another swipe with the knife. This time, he cut me on the right wrist. It burned, hurt like hell.

I fired the Clock. The bullet hit him in the upper chest. It didn't stop him! He spun sideways, righted himself. "Fuck you, Cross. You're nothing."

I drove my head hard into his chest. I aimed for the general area where he'd been wounded.

He screamed, a horrifying high-pitched moan. Then he dropped the knife.

I wrapped both arms as tight as I could around him. My legs churned hard. I kept driving him across the room until we hit a wall. The whole building shuddered.

Somebody in the next apartment banged on a wall and complained about the noise.

"Call the police!” I yelled. "Call nine-one-one."

I had him pinned to the floor, and he was moaning loudly that I'd hurt him. He continued to struggle and fight. I hit him squarely on the jaw and he finally stopped. Then I pulled off the rubber mask.

It was Szabo.

"You're the Mastermind," I gasped. "It is you."

"I didn't do anything," he snarled back. He started to struggle again. He cursed loudly. "You broke into my house. You fool! You're all goddamn fools. Listen to me, asshole. Listen! You got the wrong man!"