Vessi came out of the cell. He was handcuffed, and he kept twisting his wrists, fidgeting with the bracelets.
The warden read the death-warrant in a sombre, get-it-over sort of voice. I could see a trickle of sweat running down behind his ear. When he was through he said: “Any last words?”
This was what I’d been waiting for. I moved forward so that I was close to Vessi. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the other guys pressed against the glass window, taking it all in, and watching me closely. Vessi looked right at me. “You got the wrong guy,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “I didn’t do it.”
The guards closed round him, but Vessi suddenly stiffened. He continued to look at me. “Break it open, Mason,” he said in a low mumble. “Lu Spencer pulled it. You gotta get him—it was Lu— do you hear—?”
The guards bustled him and he was shoved into the chamber. I made a note to please the boys, but I left the last angle out.
They put Vessi in the steel chair with the pellets under it. The straps were tightened. While this was going on—it took under forty-five seconds—he kept his eyes on my face. I nodded to him, trying to tell him I was going to do something about it. He saw he’d got my attention and relaxed in the chair.
A guard brought a crock of sulphuric acid and put it under the chair—directly under the pellets. Then he took it on the lam quick. The warden inspected the straps—one around Vessi’s chest, two on each arm, and one on each leg. He put his hand on Vessi’s shoulder. “You’ll go quick, boy,” he said. “Take a deep breath—you won’t know anythin’ about it.” Then he walked out of the chamber.
Vessi was in there alone.
The guard swung the heavy steel door shut, and shoved home the bolts. I and the warden stood looking into the chamber through the little window by the door. Ten seconds to wait, and those ten seconds seemed like ten years. I felt my heart bumping.
Vessi turned his head slowly, looking at the faces watching him. He was beginning to realise what was coming to him.