Illusion - excerpt

Aldis Rowper had known from an early age that he was capable of killing. It was just that the need to do so had never arisen until now. But now, Pearce had to be killed. And he was going to kill him with a screwdriver. That much was settled. But what would be the best way to use the tool cum weapon? Aldis pondered this question as he walked amidst the funereal extravagances of Glasgow Necropolis, a Gothic bone yard built by a long-dead bourgeoisie who vied to erect the biggest and best tomb or mausoleum in which to spend their eternity's.  

It was on recalling once again how Paris told of killing his victim that Aldis finally settled on a method. He had found

Paris's stark description of that event utterly, utterly fascinating. How many times since had he tried to imagine it? To do that to another man! Well, now he would do it when the time came. And the time came when he was passing the Aitken Of Dalmoak Mausoleum and he heard a footstep behind him. When Aldis turned it was to see a man in his early thirties who was tall, well built and had film-star-good-looks. They spoke,briefly.  

‘Ah. Mr. Pearce.' Aldis said  

‘I've been w-waiting f-for near an hour!' Pearce replied.  

‘I'm sorry. Punctuality was never my strong point.' Aldis told him in mock apology.  

‘I d-don't see any b-big bag of money, Mr. Rowper.' Pearce said, nodding at Aldis Rowper's empty hands.  

‘That's because I didn't bring any money, Mr. Pearce. But I did bring this.'  

The man called Pearce was astounded when Aldis took the screwdriver from the waistband of his trousers and slowly shoved it clean through his own arm.  

‘What the fuck-----!!!' Exclaimed Pearce.  

Aldis shuddered a little, as if suddenly cold. His eyelids fluttered and behind them the eyes rolled in their sockets.   ‘What the f-fuck------!!!' Pearce said again.  

After a few seconds, and sighing tremulously so that he sounded for all the world like a sated lover, Aldis Rowper took hold of the screwdriver's red plastic handle and began to slowly draw it from his arm.  

‘Fuck!'  

That was to be the last sensible word that Pearce would ever utter, because almost as soon as the screwdriver was free of his own flesh, Aldis Rowper lunged at the transfixed man and rammed the tool through his right eye and deep into his brain.