“You don’t remember being in a mob that terrorized a bunch of people on the museum steps?”

He sighed and nodded. “I remember being in the street, then on some steps, fighting with… someone. But that’s pretty much it. I don’t remember details, though. I’m told I had a concussion. I woke up in the hospital with a broken leg and no idea how I got it. You say you were there. Did you see me?”

Jack nodded, watching for the slightest hint that he was lying.

“Did… did I do anything… bad?”

Jack forced calm. “You tried to kill an eight-year-old girl.”

“What?” The depth of horror in Butler’s expression could not be faked. “I did what?” His eyes pleaded with Jack. “Tell me she’s all right! Please tell me I didn’t hurt a child!”

“Somebody pulled her away from you just as you tried to chuck her off the top of the steps.”

“Thank God!”

Butler’s genuine relief cooled Jack’s anger, hut that didn’t let him off the hook.

“You guys had to be doing more than cheap rum and vodka to mess up your heads like that.”

“We were, but we didn’t know about it. At least most of us didn’t. But that bastard Dawkins did.”

“Dawkins?”

“Yes. Burton Dawkins. Didn’t you hear?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“That’s why I thought you were here—about Burt. The police were immediately suspicious that the punch had been drugged, so they tested it right away and found out it was. That’s why we were released without being charged. They arrested Dawkins for spiking the punch.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought a dweeb like him would do something like that. But the cops caught him red-handed with a whole bag of the drug.”

“What drug?”

“They haven’t said yet, but I called someone I know down at the commissioner’s office, and he told me they think it’s some new designer drug that’s been popping up all over the country the past few months.”

“What’s it called?”

“He said it’s sold under lots of names. They didn’t have the lab report back yet, but he suspected it was a highly concentrated form called Berzerk.”

“Sounds appropriate.”

“I’m told it’s spelled with a z.”

“Like the old arcade game.”

Butler flashed a smile. “Yeah. I remember that. Used to be my favorite when I was a kid. But there was nothing fun about this stuff. Potent as all hell. Between you and me, I smoked my share of weed in my younger days, snorted coke once or twice, did some speed-rite-of-passage stuff, you know? I’ve been high before, but I’ve never felt like I did the other night. I remember this sensation of awesome power, as if I were king of the world. It was truly wonderful for a while, but then it turned into this anger, this… this rage because this was my world and everything in it belonged to me and there were these other people around who were keeping me from what was rightfully mine.” He grinned sheepishly. “I know it sounds insane now, but at the time it all made perfect sense. I felt like a god.”