The Dark at the End rj-15

by F. Paul Wilson

  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.”

  15

  This Washington Street hardware store was tiny but it had everything. He found an X-Acto number two knife with a long slim aluminum handle and a sharp-pointed number eleven blade.

  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…

  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.

  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 the 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 Thomp
son 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.

  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?”