carefully raised the shade. There was a fire escape, andbelow that an alley. But the window and the one next to it were protected by agrate of iron bars secured with a padlock. Harry returned to the table where hehad set down Evie's keys and was soundlessly picking through them when therewere two gentle taps on the door. He moved a few steps forward, then stopped.There was a second pair of raps, this time more insistent. He looked about himat Desiree's papers. There was no way he could hide everything.
'Who is it?' he heard himself rasp. Hemoved closer to hear the reply.
'It's Thorvald. Paladin Thorvald,' the mansaid in a forced whisper. 'I got to speak to you.'
'How did you get in here?'
'Please, it's very important.'
Harry glanced about him again. Then, witha shrug, he undid the dead bolt. As soon as he turned the knob, two men in darkwindbreakers barged in. One was tall and built like a professional wrestler.The other was much shorter but cinder-block chunky. Both had nylon stockingspulled over their faces.
'I lied,' the taller one growled, shovingHarry back into the apartment.
Harry's reaction was pure reflex. Heslammed his fist into the center of the taller man's face, sending him reelingback heavily against the wall by the door. Then he lashed out with his foot atthe other one, connecting solidly with the side of his knee. The man dropped onto his side, cursing. Harry charged past him toward the open doorway, but thetaller man whipped his leg across, sending him sprawling into the hall.
'Help!' Harry cried, scrambling to hisfeet.
Before he could push off, the huge mantackled him by the ankles. Harry cried out again as he struggled to freehimself. He was a hundred and eighty pounds, but the gargantuan man handled himlike a puppet. His face, beneath the stocking mask, was smeared with blood.
'Get the stuff out, for chrissakes!' hesnapped, dragging Harry back into the apartment. 'This guy's fucking crazy!'
Harry freed one foot and snapped it upagainst the man's jaw. His grip loosened just enough for Harry to break freeonce again. The stockier man, unsteady but on his feet, tried pinning Harry'sarms to his sides. But Harry was possessed. He drove his elbow viciously intothe man's throat, following through in a dervishlike three-sixty turn thatwould have made Baryshnikov proud. Once again the blocky man went down.
Harry stumbled as he headed toward thedoor. The hesitation was just enough for the giant to get hold of him again.But Harry's arms were still free. As he braced himself and twisted to take aroundhouse swing, excruciating pain shot through his chest and around to hisback. It was the same electroshock sensation he had experienced on the track atthe hospital, but magnitudes more severe. He felt his knees buckle. His visionblurred. And in an instant, both men were on him, pinning him to the carpet.
'The stuff,' one snapped.
'Okay, okay, I've got it. I've got it.'
Through the sweaty, dull haze ofintolerable pain, Harry smelled the sickly sweet aroma of chloroform. A momentlater, a cloth soaked with the rapidly acting anesthetic was pressed tightlyover his nose and mouth. The dreadful ache in his chest kept him from all buttoken resistance. And in fact, as his consciousness began to fade, he sensedsome relief that the pain was fading as well. He fought for a time the only wayhe could, by refusing to inhale. But with several hundred pounds pressing downon him, his tenacity was short lived.
The questions floated through the pitchblackness like feathers, brushing against Harry's consciousness, then driftingaway.
The voice, a man's, was soft, patient, andnot at all demanding. But Harry felt powerless to resist answering. Thequestions, droning over and over, were interspersed with slow, thick answers ina voice that was his, and yet was not a human voice at all.
Harry was flat on his back, somehow tiedto a bed. Cotton batting had been taped tightly over each eye. He could movehis hands, but not his arms; his feet, but not his legs; his head, but not hisshoulders.
'Let me up,' he heard himself growl.
'When I am convinced you have told meeverything that you have to tell me, you will be freed. May I please have somemore Pentothal?'
Harry's brain had begun to clear. Thehorrible pain in his chest was gone, and he hadn't died — at least he didn'tthink so.
'Just hold still, Harry. Stop trying tomove your arm. You'll feel much better in a moment.'
The voice of his inquisitor was culturedand intelligent — not that of either of the men who had assaulted him. Theother two were there, though. Harry could hear them breathing. He tried topicture the three of them standing by the bed, staring down at him.
'I'll need even more than that,' thecultured voice said, 'and fill half of that syringe with that ketamine overthere. I don't believe he has anything more to tell us, but we shall see.'
Harry sensed the movement by his left arm,and suddenly knew there was an intravenous line there.
A pleasant warmth washed over thedarkness. Harry felt himself beginning to drift. And once again, the questionsand his own answers began to float past him.
From the depths of a warm, impenetrably dark sea, Harrysensed himself rise. His head felt swollen, his chest was a balloon. Bubblesswirled about him as bit by bit, word by word, his encounter with the two thugsand subsequent inquisition by the man with the soft voice drew into focus inhis mind. He was tied to a bed and. .
Finally, he was able to look around. Hewas in Desiree's bedroom. He was fully clothed, although his shoes were on thefloor by the bed. His watch was gone. There was a small, closed puncture woundon the skin inside his left elbow — almost certainly an intravenous site.Except for the furniture, the room was empty. No clothes in the closet. Noperfume on the bureau. Nothing. The bathroom and living room had been similarlyswept of Evie's belongings. The computer was gone, the bathroom vanity draweremptied of its depressing contents. The medicine cabinet was bare. Evie's keyshad been taken, although his own keys and wallet were on the table.
