Kristof stared at the man blinking up at him from the chair. He was securely taped into it. His Glock and backup pistol had been removed.
He turned to Thompson. "You are absolutely sure this is man who rob you?"
"Sure as shit." He flung the man's wallet across the room. "All his ID backs that up. John Fucking Tyleski." He leaned closer to the man, almost nose to nose. "Ain't that right?"
Tyleski looked up at him. Kristof was quite sure that was not his real name, but it would do for now. They would know his real name before this night was over. He had seemed confused before but his eyes had cleared and he appeared more alert now.
He blinked at Thompson. "Who are you?"
"You know goddamn well who I am."
"Never saw you before in my life."
Thompson bared his teeth as he cocked his right fist. Kristof grabbed his arm before he could strike.
"I do not want him knocked out again."
"I owe this guy, Szeto. So do you."
"I want him to talk. He cannot talk if he is unconscious."
"Talk, huh? You want talk? I saw a hardware store down the block. How about I pick us up a few tools to loosen him up?"
Kristof nodded. The Order had owned this top-floor loft and the one below it since the days before the meatpacking district became trendy. Thompson had kept his distance while Dieter and Erich were dragging Tyleski up the stairs from the street. But he'd gained swagger and confidence once the man was secured to the chair.
Just then Dieter and Erich returned from hiding the van.
Dieter stared at Tyleski. His English carried a thick German accent. "Kristof! I thought he looked familiar before, but now in the light, I am sure: This is the man from the park yesterday, the one who killed Claudiu and wounded Filip."
"Is he now?" Erich said with an equally heavy accent as he pulled out his pistol.
The revelation triggered an explosion of rage within Kristof but he managed to contain it. He raised a hand and stopped Erich.
"No. We have time for that later."
He pulled his own pistol from its holster and a three-inch suppressor from a side pocket. He made a show of screwing it onto the threaded end of the barrel.
"How much later?" Dieter asked, looking equally itchy to inflict damage on this man.
"After I have learned what I want to know, we shall play Last Shot Loser, the three of us - and Mister Thompson too, if he wishes."
"What's that?" Thompson said.
"We take turns shooting Mister Tyleski with one bullet each."
Thompson smiled. "Count me in. How do I win?"
"By not losing. You lose by killing him. The one who fires the kill shot must pay each of the other players one thousand dollars."
Thompson's grin broadened. "Oh, I'm definitely in. The way I see it, even if I lose, I win."
"But first, your suggestion about hardware store is excellent. Get whatever tools appeal to you, but for me ... you are familiar with something called X-Acto knife?"
"Course I am."
"Get me one, or something quite like it."
"Planning a little cosmetic surgery?"
"In a way. First thing I do is cut off eyelids so he must watch whatever we do to him."
Dieter and Erich slapped palms as Thompson turned to Tyleski. "You are soooo fucked!"
Tyleski didn't react. Szeto hadn't expected much from him. A man like this would know better than to show fear, even if he were quaking inside. And the prospect of losing his eyelids should cause deep quaking. Kristof had seen men broken by that alone. Not so much because of the pain, but because of the finality of the mutilation, the realization that even if he survived, his life was changed, horribly and forever.
Thompson turned at the door. "Hey, we forgot about Drexler. Think he might be in on - oh, shit. You think he might have hit Drexler?"
That had occurred to Kristof, but he hadn't had time to check on it. Not that it would be such a terrible loss. Ernst Drexler had been bypassed by the One. That meant that the High Council might decide to elevate someone else to Actuator status. And since the One was dealing directly with Kristof Szeto, who better to choose?
But until that happened, Kristof would have to play the game.
He pulled out his phone. "You go," he told Thompson. He pointed to Dieter and Erich. "You two wait outside."
He didn't want them overhearing his conversation with Drexler. And he wanted a little time alone with the prisoner.
When the door closed behind them, he speed-dialed Drexler's number. Kristof couldn't help a stab of disappointment when he picked up on the third ring.
"Yes, Szeto?"
"You are aware that man we have been looking for was seen leaving your apartment building?"
A long pause, during which Kristof was certain that Drexler was wondering if he was being watched and whether to ask about it.
Instead he said, "Jack from Johnson, New Jersey. Yes."
"He visits you often?"
"Never before. He was looking for the One."
That took Kristof by surprise. He glanced at the man before him. Looking for the One? Was he mad?
"Why would he - ?"
"Never mind that. Did you follow him?"
"Yes, of course. He is now guest at meatpacking place. He will soon be telling us many things we wish to know."
Another long pause, then, "Don't do anything until I get there. I have a score to settle with that man."
"Many have scores."
He ended the call and turned to the man.
"So ... you are called John Tyleski. Another name for John is 'Jack,' yes? Are you called Jack?"
The man said nothing, merely stared at Kristof.
Kristof said, "I am making conversation. I know answers. I know you are Jack from Johnson, New Jersey. I have come to know your hometown very well lately. I know you grew up with Louise and Edward Connell. I know you have killed many of my men." He lifted the man's Glock from the floor. "Probably with this very gun."
He wanted to smash the barrel across his face but held back. Men who had just recovered consciousness were too easily knocked out again. He needed him awake. Instead he leaned closer and pointed to the healing scars on his own face.
"And even though I did not see you, Jack, I know you were one who did this to me."
Still no response.
"You are looking for the One, yes? It is sure now that you will never find him, so you can tell me: Why do you look for him?"
Instead of continuing his impassive stare, Jack seemed to consider this. Finally he shrugged.
"I'm going to kill him."
Kristof couldn't help but laugh. "You are quite mad, you know."
"You won't think so when he's dead."
"Why do you want him dead?"
"I think you know."
Kristof realized he had finally met someone directly related to the Enemy. Almost everything he had done for the Order was intended to weaken the Enemy, but the men and women he had run up against along the way had not been directly connected to the Enemy, merely impeding the One's ascent. Here, at last, was someone with a direct connection.
"It is too bad you work for Enemy. You would have been strong fighter for Order."
"Not much of a joiner, Mister Szeto."
He knows my name, Kristof thought. How - ?
Well, of course he would.
Jack said, "My turn for a question: Why work for a guy who's going to wreck the world if he wins?"
Kristof laughed again. "This is Enemy propaganda. 'The end of world as we know it.' Is like Church telling children they go to hell if they do not follow rules. When the One wins, we make rules."
Jack shook his head. "You're dealing with a guy who has one agenda - himself. You, Drexler, Thompson, the high-ups in your Order, you're all going to be left out in the cold with the rest of us when he changes the world to his own brand of hell."
Kristof kept his expression impassive, not wanting this man to know that he'd struck his most secret fear. Not that the world would be changed into a place of pain and terror - those were the laughable fantasies sold by the Enemy - but that he would not be elevated to a position of power. That fear had receded since the One had turned directly to him for assistance, but it had not vanished.
"I would love to prove you wrong, but unfortunately, you will not be around to see it."
"When does your master arrive?"
"Master?"
Kristof bristled at the comment but feigned confusion. He would so much enjoy making this man scream.
"The man in the wonderful ice cream suit."
"Oh, you must mean Drexler. No, I answer only to the One. In fact, soon I may be Drexler's master. The One comes to me now. In fact, he has engaged me for special project in your hometown. Isn't that interesting?"
Finally a reaction from the man - surprise ... concern. "What project?"
Just then Kristof heard the door open. He turned and saw Drexler, wearing a long, dark herringbone overcoat over his white suit. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.
"Well, well," Drexler said, smiling at Jack. "We meet again. But this time I have the advantage."