Perfect for cutting off eyelids.
At least Hank thought it would be perfect. He shuddered at the thought of it happening to him. Something like that would never even have occurred to him. But Szeto seemed pretty comfortable with it. Like maybe this wouldn't be his first eyelidectomy.
Be the first for Hank. He was kind of looking forward to it. He'd never tortured anyone. Before becoming King of the Kickers, he'd earned his daily bread alternating between a knocker and a sticker in a slaughterhouse. The former involved shooting a steel bolt into cows' heads to knock them out; the latter meant slitting the cow's throat as it hung by a back leg from an overhead rail. So blood and guts were no problem.
Especially this guy's blood and guts. The son of a bitch had stolen his Compendium of Srem. But worse than that, he'd made a fool of Hank while doing it, right out in public on the streets of New York. Nothing too bad could happen to this guy.
But the thing was, Hank didn't want the guy to die before he told him where he'd stashed the Compendium. Or if he'd sold it, who to.
He found a pair of needle-nose pliers. Might be good for yanking off fingernails. He added that to his shopping basket and moved on till he came across some Drano Kitchen Crystals. Sprinkle some of that onto lidless eyes . . . oh, yeah.
He kept shopping . . .
THURSDAY Chapter 16
Szeto, Thompson, the Katzenjammer Killers who'd ambushed the Lady, and now Drexler.
Party time.
Jack wasn't sure if his nausea was from the concussion or the certainty of impending torture. Probably a little of both. He wondered how he'd hold up.
And he wondered how he'd landed here. He'd watched Drexler's apartment for a number of nights - no guards, no surveillance. Drexler hadn't had time to contact anyone to tail him, so how had he been set up?
Not that it mattered now. Barring a miracle, he was done. He wouldn't mind dying so much if it didn't mean leaving Gia and Vicky to fend for themselves in the coming Change. He did mind dying in agony. And worse, whoever found his body wouldn't be able to identify him - he had no identity. He'd wind up in Bellevue with a "John Doe" tag on his big toe.
Still smiling at him, Drexler reached into the pocket of the overcoat and pulled out his Taser.
"I replaced the battery. "
"We have more interesting plans," Szeto said.
"Yes, but this is direct payback. He Tasered me in Central Park last summer and I am going to return the favor . . . many times. "
Jack steeled himself. This wasn't going to be fun.
"Well, this is all right, I suppose," Szeto said. "It will soften him up for main event. "
"By the way, how did you manage this?"
"Thompson was on his way to visit you when he spotted him leaving your building. "
So that was it - one of those random events that screws up the most careful plans.
Drexler's eyebrows lifted as he looked around. "Thompson? Really? Where is he?"
"He returns soon with tools. "
"Then we have no time to waste. "
He turned and jammed the Taser against Szeto's neck.
Jack figured the shock on Szeto's face had to mirror his own as the man's muscles turned to overcooked spaghetti and he dropped to the floor. Jack watched him twitch, then looked at Drexler standing over him.
He knew he had a bad concussion. Did hallucinations go with it? If so, this was a doozy.
"All right. I give up. What was that all about? Not that I'm protesting or anything. "
Drexler - Jack had to assume he was real - said nothing as he pulled a jackknife from his pocket, opened it, and cut the duct tape fastening Jack's right wrist to the chair. As Jack pulled it free, he handed him the knife.
"Finish yourself. "
Jack went to work on his other wrist and realized his right shoulder hurt like hell. What had happened to it? But more important . . .
"What's going down here?"
Drexler didn't answer. Instead, he zapped Szeto again, then reached inside the man's leather coat. He removed the Tokarev and held it up, staring at the suppressor.
"Perfect. "
He stepped back and pointed it at Szeto. The pistol went phut-phut as Drexler, with about as much ceremony as a carpenter tacking up wallboard, double-tapped the supine man in the forehead.
"Jeez," Jack whispered.
He finished freeing his left wrist and hurried on to his ankles. He didn't know what was playing out here but wanted all his limbs available for the next act.
Drexler turned and raised the Tokarev toward him. Jack was already making a move to deflect the barrel when Drexler flipped it so the grip was turned his way.
"Take this and hide it and be ready to use it. "
"What?"
He opened the door and called out in what sounded like German. "Sie zwei! Schnell kommen!"
Some hurried footsteps and then the Katzenjammers arrived. They gasped, "Kristof!" in unison when they saw their boss.
A lot of things began happening at once. Drexler was behind the Germans. He slipped out the door and closed it behind him as they went for their weapons. They were facing Jack, half a dozen feet away. Raising and extending his arm reduced the range to four feet. He shot each once in the chest. He didn't know what sort of ammo Szeto had loaded, but it proved damn effective. The lights instantly went out in the Katzenjammers' eyes and they hit the floor in unison.
Drexler came back through the door and held out his hand for the pistol. But Jack wasn't about to give it up. He pointed it at Drexler.
"For like the third or fourth time: What's this all about?"
"I'll explain later. " He snapped his fingers. "Come-come. I want to be out of here before Thompson returns. "
"Maybe I don't. "
Thompson had been so into the prospect of torturing him. Be kind of fun to see his face when he walked in with his tools and learned the tables had been turned.
"It's important. Please. "
Drexler saying please . . . Jack would have thought the word long expunged from his vocabulary.
Fact: He'd already had plenty of opportunities to shoot Jack but hadn't. Still . . .
"Back up. "
When Drexler complied, Jack quickly finished cutting the tape on his ankles, then rose. The room did a spin and he thought he'd either hurl, collapse, or both, but he locked his throat against a surge of bile and widened his stance. Room and stomach settled.
Moving carefully, he stepped over to where his Glock and backup lay on the floor. Only after he'd reclaimed them did he hand back the Tokarev.
Drexler turned and, keeping his distance, administered a coup de grace to Hans and Fritz, or whatever their names were. Then he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped down the pistol. He dropped it on Szeto's belly and turned to Jack.
"We have no time to waste. " He pointed to the chair Jack had just vacated. "Help me remove this tape, then we'll go. I'll explain outside. "
As much as Jack wanted to wait for Thompson, he wanted that explanation more.
THURSDAY Chapter 17
"I'm sure you're thoroughly confused and have a million questions," Drexler said. "But I can answer them all with one simple statement. "
They stood in a shadowed, recessed doorway across the street from the loft building, watching the entrance. The fresh cold air was like a tonic for Jack. The nausea had receded and his head felt clearer.
"Hit me. "
"I wish to prevent the Change. "
Jack almost laughed. "As the saying goes, 'I may have been born at night, but not last night. '"
"I don't understand. "
"You really expect me to believe that?"
"I was hoping that what just transpired in that loft would add credence to my statement. "
Jack digested that, looking for the angle.
Rasalom knew Glaeken was powerless, leaving only t
he Lady blocking his path to the Change. He knew too that Jack was the Heir. So how could Drexler's approaching him with this off-the-wall change of heart work to Rasalom's advantage?
Jack couldn't see the trip wire - at least not yet.
Nor could he see how this could have been set up. No one had known he'd be visiting Drexler tonight. No time to set up a big-store type scam like this. Especially since it involved the deaths of three members of the Order, including Drexler's right-hand man.
"Let's just say I buy that. Why?"
"That is not something I care to discuss. Take it or leave it. "
Wait . . . something Szeto had said tonight . . .
I answer only to the One. In fact, soon I may be Drexler's master.
Was a palace coup in the offing? Or threatened? Was that why Drexler had executed Szeto?
Jack tried to read Drexler's expression in the shadows as he replied.
"You think the One is going to abandon you when the Change comes. Is that it?"
Drexler didn't react. "I repeat: I want to stop the Change. Take it or leave it. "
"You think killing off the Order's enforcers is the way to do that?"
"The only way I know to stop the Change is to stop the One. You told me tonight that you are set on doing that. Therefore our goals are confluent. I will help you make the attempt. "
Jack shook his head. "'Attempt. ' Not exactly a vote of confidence. "
"I am nothing if not a realist and a pragmatist. And you . . . you are not a fool. You must know you face a daunting challenge. "
Jack sighed. "Yeah. I do. But if I find him, I'm gonna hit him with everything. "
"You must. It must be your personal Armageddon. "
"But the key word is find. If I can't find him, I can't take him out. You've no idea where he is?"
Drexler shook his head. "None. But I haven't been looking. That changes as of tonight. I will work with you. Only you. No one must know of my involvement. Are we agreed?"
Jack hesitated. This was the weirdest damn turn of events. Working with Ernst Drexler against the One. Surreal. So surreal, he couldn't fully buy into it. Blagden seemed a dead end. Rasalom and the Order were connected, so tapping into the Order's datastream seemed a good way to go.
But he'd keep one eye looking over his shoulder.
Jack extended his hand. "Agreed. "
They shook.
Drexler looked about to say something when his gaze fixed over Jack's shoulder.
"There he is. "
Jack turned and saw Hank Thompson fast-walking along the sidewalk, carrying a paper bag. Containing an X-Acto knife, perhaps? To remove a man's eyelids?
Jack fought the urge to start after him . . . and failed. But Drexler grabbed his arm as he stepped from the doorway.
"No. I have need of him. "
Jack stepped back.
As they waited for Thompson to enter the loft building, Jack said, "One last question: When you let Hans and Fritz through the door - "
"Hans and Fritz?"
"The two German guys. Why did you step out and close it?"
"Obvious, I should think: I didn't want to risk blood spatters on my suit or coat. "
"Right. Obvious. "
As soon as Thompson was through the entrance, Drexler handed Jack the balled-up remnants of the duct tape that had bound him, then hurried across the street.
Jack watched him go. So weird. Could he trust Drexler to hold up his end of the bargain? Well, at least as long as their goals remained - to use his term - confluent. Jack harbored no doubt that if Drexler got a better offer, their deal would be as dead as Szeto and the Katzenjammers.
THURSDAY Chapter 18
Ernst caught up to Thompson just as he was entering the big, open elevator.
"Mister Thompson. Hold that. "
Thompson smiled. "Well, well. Look who got invited to the party. I didn't know if Tyleski had got to you or not. "
"Tyleski?" The name threw Ernst for a second, then he remembered. "Oh, yes. That was the name he gave you. "
"Bogus as all hell. " He raised the paper sack he was carrying. "But these will bring out the truth. Before the night is over, we'll know everything about this guy. "
Ernst removed the Taser from his pocket and held it up.
"This will help too. "
"That's way too tame, man. "
"But if he is the one who Tasered us last summer, it is only fair, no?"
Thompson grinned. "Well, maybe for appetizers. "
The elevator stopped at the top floor and he let Thompson lead the way across the foyer.
"Hey, everybody," he said as he opened the door to the loft. "It's party ti - "
He stopped dead one step inside the threshold. Ernst was expecting that but purposely ran into him from behind, pushing him farther into the room.
"Oh, shit!" Thompson cried. "Oh, fuck!"
Ernst put on a suitably shocked expression and pushed past him. Perhaps only partially put on. It always surprised him how much blood the human body contained. And when it ran out through multiple large exit wounds, it formed pools of remarkable size. These three pools had merged into a crimson lake. Clotting had begun.
Thompson seemed mesmerized by the blood, but he tore his gaze away and focused on the empty chair.
"He's gone!"
"Yes, I can see that," Ernst said.
"But how? Szeto and I taped him into that chair ourselves. No way he could have gotten out. "
Ernst stepped around the pool of blood and inspected the chair.
"Tape? What tape? There is no tape here. "
"There's gotta be!" Thompson's eyes looked ready to pop from his head. "What the fuck's going on?"
"Szeto once told me he thought he was a ninja. "
"A ninja? Naw, he was just some American guy, but this - this is like supernatural!" He looked around. "We better get out of here. "
"I think that is wise. "
"What about the bodies?"
This encounter had served its purpose. The Order would want answers. Ernst would say he arrived and found them all dead. Thompson would back that up. But Ernst would wonder aloud about Thompson . . . the last to see the three men alive . . . or had they been alive when he'd left? He claimed to have taped the stranger into the chair, but no tape was evident when Ernst arrived . . . could he be working with the stranger?
The Order would find no evidence of that, but the questions would focus attention on Thompson while Ernst searched for clues to the One's whereabouts.
Even better, the One might contact him. Since he could no longer go to Szeto for "minor logistical support," as he'd called it, would he turn again to Ernst Drexler? Ernst hoped so.
If that happened, and if Ernst regained the One's trust and favor, the deal with Jack would be null and void.
THURSDAY Chapter 19
A sharp intake of breath hissed between Gia's teeth as she parted the hair on the right side of Jack's head.
"Oh, Jack, your scalp's all bruised. "
He knew. He'd felt the squishy blood under the skin there earlier. Not the first time he'd been knocked cold, but the first time in years. Doc Hargus had called it a hematoma back then - not subdural, subcutaneous.
He pressed his fingers against the area now. Odd . . . no squish. The last one had lasted a week.
And his headache. Last time he'd been knocked out his head had pounded for days.
More proof that he was being changed in preparation for Glaeken's impending demise.
She dabbed at the area with a cold, wet washcloth.
"You've got a little dried blood here from these little tiny scratches. "
Which were probably bigger an hour ago.
"Oh, and look. Here's a teeny piece of glass. "
"I can shower all that away. "
"No, let me help. "
Normally this kind of attention would make him c
laustrophobic. If she were a nurse in an ER, he'd be pushing her away. But injuries, even minor ones, brought out Gia's nurturing side. With every passing year Vicky needed less and less nurturing, so she had a lot stored up.
Gia never made him claustrophobic. The closer the better.
"Two injuries in two days," she said as she picked at the glass. "I hope you're not going to be making a habit of this. "
He smiled at her. "If tonight ends like last night. . . "
"Don't count on that. You've got me worried now. I mean, you seem to be getting hurt lately. First your arm and now this. You never used to get hurt. Are they connected?"
"In a way. "
"What way?"
"Long story. All part of a bigger problem. But this particular part of the problem has been solved. "
She stopped dabbing at his scalp. "Solved . . . do I want to know the details?"
"Probably not. "
She sighed. "Okay. No details. But just tell me: Is the person responsible for these injuries in a position to cause more injuries?"
"No. "
"Okay. Good. That's enough. " She slipped her arms around his shoulders and hugged. "I worry about you, you know. "
"I know. "
Her attitude had switched a hundred and eighty degrees from last night. The arm wound had seemed old then, well on its way to healing. But this one was fresh. And he could feel her trembling inside.
Still holding him, she said, "Don't you feel it's all unraveling?"
"'All'?"
"The world. "
"What makes you think it was ever truly raveled?"
"You know what I mean. "
"Yeah, unfortunately I do. "
Was she sensing Rasalom's ascent? Ever since her coma she seemed sensitized to the Conflict. She'd seen what she interpreted as a landscape of the future while she was out, and it had ended in impenetrable darkness this coming spring.
And spring was only weeks away.
Her hug tightened. "I'm worried. "
"I know. "
"Not for myself, so much. I'm worried for you. But most of all I'm worried for Vicky. There's so much I want for her. I want her to fall in love, I want her to have a chance at motherhood, I want her to. . . "
"Live long and prosper?"
She laughed softly. "Exactly, Mister Spock. Actually, that's the least of what I want for her. I want everything for her, or at least a chance at it. "
"I'll do my damnedest to see that she gets that chance. "
No more needed to be said.
FRIDAY Chapter 1
The Dark at the End Page 11