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.