Smith shook his head weakly. “Jesus, Randi. Is there an organized crime boss on the planet you don’t have a relationship with?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Count yourself lucky that I have friends in low places. Noboru’s plans for you weren’t exactly all sunshine and lollipops. Unless I miss my guess, they’d have ended with you getting mixed in with the cat food at one of his meatpacking plants.”

“And you trust this guy, but not Fred?”

“I don’t trust anyone. You know that. But Noboru and I go way back and we have some shared interests. With Klein I’m never quite sure.”

Smith forced himself into a sitting position. She watched him struggle, silently calculating how his condition would affect her plans but not offering any help.

“I take it you’re here to spring me?”

She nodded. “The doc says you’re in pretty bad shape but that it should be okay to move you if we’re careful. They’re bringing a wheelchair and I’ll take you to an apartment I rented through a dummy corporation. No way to trace it to either one of us. We can lay low there until you’re a little more mobile and we figure out how to get you back to the States.”

“Fred can send a jet.”

“We’ll see. No need to jump into anything blind.”

He didn’t bother to protest, instead pointing to a pair of cargo pants folded in the corner. He rarely won an argument with her even when he was firing on all cylinders. Better to concentrate on getting the hell out of there before their host changed his mind.

While he was struggling to get his zipper up with dead-feeling fingers, the door opened and the man he’d spoken with when he’d first woken up entered, followed by three very serious-looking companions.

“Randi,” Noboru Ueno said, examining her from bottom to top, finally stopping at the black-dyed hair. “What have you done to yourself?”

“You know how I hate to attract attention.”

He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Impossible. You look radiant as always.”

“Such a charmer,” she said with a barely perceptible smile. “Now where’s the wheelchair you promised me?”

“And where are the items you promised me?”

Randi pointed to the satchel lying on the table. Ueno opened it and flipped approvingly through what from Smith’s position appeared to be bearer bonds.

“I could have just wired the money to your account in Croatia.”

He shook his head. “I’ve come to enjoy the feel of paper in my hand.”

Smith was too drugged to generate any meaning from Ueno’s subtle nod, but Randi wasn’t similarly handicapped.