Blackness swallowed everything and neither of us said a word, barely able to get a gasp out. I heard the door open, but no light was on in the hall, either. I sensed somebody coming at me, and swung at where I thought that was, connecting with nothing.

Night vision started working itself in, thanks to the window by the roll-top onto a New York out there that was not suffering a blackout. The intruder was my size but not as heavy, almost certainly male, and Chris went for him but got straight-armed to the floor, a blow so hard and swift I felt the wind of it pass me.

Then hands were on the sides of my head, forcing it down, and I knew in a split second what was coming next, and remembered what sensei Sakai had taught me. I dropped the disk and grabbed the forearms of the attacker and I threw myself backward, taking the bastard along with me before that knee could rise up like a cannonball and make a caved-in corpse out of me. On the floor, on my back, I rocked back and put my foot on the fucker’s chest and flung him over my head.

He landed hard, furniture jumping as if startled, but the attacker was quick, and he was up before me, but then Chris was coming at him again. A karate kick made more wind, a sweeping move that sent Chris flailing into the darkness. I came up behind the attacker, but he swung around and another straight-leg kick knocked me against the wall or maybe the closet door, I couldn’t be sure.

Then the figure was gone, the slam of the door announcing his absence. I almost ran after him, but first checked Chris, who muttered, “I’m okay, I’m okay,” though I could tell he was hurting.

I went to the door, opened it and—.45 in hand – stepped into a hall where no windows onto the street were there to aid night vision. Footsteps were receding, heading toward the elevator, around the corner, I thought.

I did not take pursuit. Not in the dark. Not with Chris in pain. And anyway, the only way I had to light up the world for a moment was a blind shot from the .45.

I was kneeling over the kid, gun still in hand, when the lights snapped on, mechanical sounds kicking in and starting back up, whirring noises that were climbing up to speed. I’d left the door to the hall open, and lights had come on out there, too. Had somebody hit the switch on the entire damn building—first off, then back on?

We were both breathing hard. I sat on the floor and Chris was doing the same.

That was when we noticed the floppy disk was gone.

“Shit,” I said. “He must have been listening in the hall! Somehow he cued an accomplice to kill the lights. But how?”