Gone Tomorrow - Lee Child [100]
Leonid took another step.
The other guy did the same.
I looked back at Leonid and saw brass knuckles on his hand.
Same for the short guy.
They had slipped them on, fast and easy. Leonid side-stepped. So did the other guy. They were perfecting their angles. I was backed up against a building, which gave me a hundred and eighty degrees of empty space in front of me. Each one of them wanted forty-five degrees of that space on his right and forty-five on his left. That way, if I bolted, they had every exit direction equally covered. Like doubles players, in tennis. Long practice, mutual support, and instinctive understanding.
They were both right-handed.
First rule when you’re fighting against brass knuckles: Don’t get hit. Especially not in the head. But even blows against arms or ribs can break bones and paralyze muscles.
The best way not to get hit is to pull out a gun and shoot your opponents from a distance of about ten feet. Close enough not to miss, far enough to remain untouched. Game over. But I didn’t have that option. I was unarmed. The next best way is either to keep your opponents far away or crush them real close. Far away, they can swing all night and never connect. Real close, they can’t swing at all. The way to keep them far away is to exploit superior reach, if you have it, or use your feet. My reach is spectacular. I have very long arms. The silverback on the television show looked stumpy in comparison to me. My instructors in the army were always making puns about my reach, based on my name. But I was facing two guys, and I wasn’t sure if kicking was an option I could add in. For one thing, I had lousy shoes. Rubber gardening clogs. They were loose on my feet. They would come off. And kicking with bare feet leads to broken bones. Feet are even punier than hands. Except in karate school, where there are rules. There are no rules on the street. Second thing, as soon as one foot is off the ground, you’re unbalanced and potentially vulnerable. Next thing you know, you’re on the floor, and then you’re dead. I had seen it happen. I had made it happen.
I braced my right heel against the wall behind me.
I waited.
I figured they would pile on together. Simultaneous launches, ninety degrees apart. Arrowing inward, more or less in step. The good news was they wouldn’t be trying to kill me. Lila Hoth would have forbade that. She wanted things from me, and corpses have nothing to offer.
The bad news was that plenty of serious injuries fall short of fatal.
I waited.
Leonid said, “You don’t have to get hurt, you know. You can just come with us, if you like, and talk to Lila.” His English was less upmarket than hers. His accent was rough. But he knew all the words.
I said, “Go with you where?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. You would have to wear a blindfold.”
I said, “I’ll take a pass on the blindfold. But you don’t have to get hurt, either. You can just move on, and tell Lila you never saw me.”
“But that wouldn’t be true.”
“Don’t be a slave to the truth, Leonid. Sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes it bites you right in the ass.”
The upside of a concerted attack by two opponents is that they have to communicate a start signal. Maybe it’s just a glance or a nod, but it’s always there. It’s a split second of warning. I figured Leonid for the main man. The one who speaks first usually is. He would announce the attack. I