The pressure eased suddenly and Sam sank down, off balance. When the pain lessened, he struggled to his feet. The razorguy had vanished. Sam reached to his side where the street tough had struck him. There were slices in the leather of his jacket and his pants were ribbons over his hip, but he was slow to realize that he shouldn’t be feeling the leather or fabric at all. His satchel was gone. He remembered his slashing passage through the Weapon World window. The strap must have been sliced away then.