by Myles Knapp
The shepherd’s teeth snapped at Richard’s neck.
Richard forgot where he was—he forgot who he was. Blind rage, jump-started by massive doses of adrenaline took over. Inside him, a voice screamed, “Roll! Roll! Roll! Kill the dog. Kill it now!”
Peggy danced in front of him. “KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM!”
Richard threw a vicious elbow shot at the dog’s throat. Missed. Shit. As he rolled right, the voice in his head screamed, “LEFT ARM UP! UP!” He rammed it over his head and swept Peggy off her feet, slamming her to the floor. Ha! Got the dwarf bitch!
And…Amy tasered him.
He kicked, cried, moaned and sobbed, raging against the electricity and his own hormones. There was a loud whistle and the dogs retreated.
Peggy pushed a button on a handheld remote and the screams immediately stopped. “Class that was the end of our first lesson. You need to know that my pepper spray canister was diluted and the Taser was set on low. Richard has experienced no permanent damage. Please take a fifteen minute break outside. When Richard’s recovered, we’ll discuss what we learned.”
Peggy sat quietly on a bench near Richard—close enough to be reassuring, but not so close as to be threatening. And far enough away that she could protect herself if he attacked.
The next few days were going to be critical if Richard was going to make the transition from ‘Richard, The Emasculated’ to ‘Rich’ a man who could take care of himself.
Peggy rolled a bicycle water bottle across the floor toward him. “Richard, drink that. Panic and adrenaline make your thirsty.”
Richard struggled to his feet and lurched at her, launching a massive right hook which just missed by inches. The next thing he knew, he was tottering on his knees, crying.
“Thirst is only one of the side-effects you are going to experience. Extreme stress and adrenaline really mess you up. Your emotions will be in disarray for days, and tunnel vision is common. For the next couple of days, you’re not going be able to see anything that isn’t right in front of you. But all that’s temporary. And it’s not the worst part.”
Richard sank to the floor, sobbing. “God, damn it! As soon as I can see again, I’m going to beat the crap out of you and that freak with the Taser. What the hell is the matter with you people? You could have killed me!”
“Yes, we could have. And whoever beat your friend Mary Ellen, would have. If you’d attacked him like you just attacked me, he’d have slammed a knife in your heart and left for lunch.”
A few minutes later the shocked group returned.
“Welcome back, class. Richard, what’d you learn?”
“That a Taser hurts like hell.”
“Imagine if it had been set on high. Anything else?”
“I wanted to kill you.”
“First thing you did after you recovered a bit was attack me again.”
“I thought I was going to die. There was like…a switch in my brain. It screamed at me to ‘kill, kill, kill!’ It completely took over. Then, I knocked you down. Don’t even know how. Still don’t. But that felt good. Damn good. I just wished I’d hurt you more. And I would have. But somehow I knew I had to get the dogs first.”
The man sitting next to Richard—a chubby, pony-tailed guy, wearing a T-shirt that read, ‘Vegan for Life,’ moved his chair away.
“Do you still want to hurt me?”
“God help me, yes.”
Amy stepped in from the corner of the room. “That’s a hard thing. Richard is not the person he was minutes ago. He knows new truths. He is no longer the nice, friendly, civilized young man he believed he was. When you are about to die, cruel, violent, merciless acts are automatic. Your brain is hard-wired to kill so that it can live. The realization that your brain will force you to be someone you deplore is terrifying. Knowing you are capable of killing someone will shake you to depths you cannot imagine. The flood of hormones, rage and indiscriminate, vicious violence will never leave you. Once you’ve gone there, you can never go back to the person you were before. You will do, say, and think things that you would have never believed possible.”
Peggy pat Richard on the shoulder. “Our goal is to teach you quickly how to win a fight. We’ve spent years studying different styles of fighting. Krav Maga, shootfighting, karate, wrestling—he team has researched them all. And learned that none of them is right for you because it takes years to get good at any of them.”
The cute blonde girl frowned. “Then, what do we do?”
“We’re going to teach you simple stuff that causes great pain and doesn’t require years of practice.”
Amy handed each student a piece of paper. “Here’s what you are going to learn.”
Richard read:
1. Ways to damage throat & eyes with things you carry: fists, pens, keys, combs.
2. Head butting.
3. Eye gouging.
4. Biting.
5. Hair pulling.
6. Fish hooking (inserting your fingers in someone’s mouth and ripping their cheeks).
7. Three Stooges (inserting your fingers in an opponent’s nose and pulling hard).
8. Groin attacks (punching, kicking, twisting, and pulling).
9. Joint dislocation.
10. Elbow strikes.
11. Throat strikes.
12. Kneeing and kicking of head.
13. Stomping (head, groin, legs, kidneys, and feet).
“If you are in a fight, whether it is one you start or one someone else starts, you only have one goal. Inflicting great pain while experiencing minimal damage to yourself.”
Amy waved her list. “Looks easy on paper. What’s not easy for normal people is realizing you must strike first and cause painful damage immediately.”
Gavin raised his hand. “I thought this was a self-defense class.”
Peggy looked at him and smiled. “It is.”
“Then, I’ve got a question.”
“The answer is no.”
“You haven’t even heard my question.”
“I’ve taught this class a thousand times. And in every one people think: ‘that’s sick, throwing the first punch and causing great pain…there has to be another way.’ Unfortunately, there isn’t. Not unless you want to continue to live in fear.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Been here a thousand times, Gavin. It all boils down to the same question. But, please, go ahead.”
“What if she’s a little old lady?”
“Little, legally blind woman took Richard down.”
“Yeah, but that was a setup.”
“No, it wasn’t. That was as close to a real fight as we could get without causing Richard permanent physical damage.”
Richard rubbed the painful spot where the Taser had hit.
“I can’t do that. It’s against everything I stand for. I thought you’d teach me how to defend myself without hurting anyone.”
“I understand. Amy, give him his money back.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to quit.”
“Yes, Gavin, you did.”
“I don’t want to be afraid. But, I also don’t want anything to do with causing pain or violence.”
“It’s the real world, Gavin. Ideology is wonderful. But what are you going to do the next time someone attacks you?”
“Run like hell, I guess.”
“Then, I’d suggest you sign up for track school. You can stay if you want. But the offer of a full refund ends after today’s class.”
CHAPTER 43
Chase chose Friday evening to invite guys from Brooke’s club to his home. He’d gone back once after his first visit and a few of the members were starting to get comfortable with him.
About twenty guys showed up for a little basketball followed by scotch, imported beer, quality Cubans and idle
sports chatter.
Later, Chase told Pay by the end of the evening he’d felt like he was hosting “The Best Damn Sports Show Period, Senior Division.”
The guys who showed up early to play were mostly late twenties or early thirties, tall and thin. Former college players, they were well connected and now successful investment bankers and entrepreneurs.
By 9 PM most of the guys had left. But two of the older guys, Ted and George, were still hanging around.
Neither had come to play.
Middle aged, balding, running to soft, and six foot only in their dreams, they looked like twins. Except George’s thinning hair was going gray, while Ted’s dark black combover and goatee suggested regular appointments with a stylist who had an intimate knowledge of hair coloring. Both wore new designer sweats and never touched a ball.
Chase poured them some Johnny Walker Blue. “You guys look like you got something on your minds. Might as well come out and say it.”
Ted glanced at George. “Maybe you should start.”
“You mentioned after you retired you started doing detective work.”
“NBA players are targets for all kinds of schemes. Gold-diggers. Girls who say ‘yes’ then scream rape. Blackmail.”
Ted butted in. “Surely you don’t need the money.”
“Don’t need it. But more money means more toys. And I enjoy helping guys out. They trust me because they know I’ve been where they are; that I can’t be bought. And that I’ll be discrete.”
“Ever work with anyone other than NBA players?” asked Ted.
“Sure, couple movie stars.” Chase chuckled, “Lots and lots of pro football players. Those dudes are always in trouble. What kind of trouble you boys got yourself into?”
George looked at the floor, shaking his head slowly, fingers pinching his forehead. “It is not something easy to put into words.” He tugged at an ear, groaned, and stared at the wall where a Leroy Neiman original showed Chase dunking on Tim Duncan. “Ah, shit. Ted and I are caught up in something.” Grimacing, he stared at his unblemished Nike Air Jordan’s and whispered, “Stuff we thought only happened to people on TV.”
Ted shook his head in frustration. “C’mon George. Stop beating around the bush.”
Chase grinned. “I’ll bet bush is what got you fine gentleman in trouble in the first place. So, let me guess. You picked up a cute little girl, or two, one night. Everything went great—right up until you got the phone call asking you to drop a big bag of cash out back by your office dumpster.”
“They want four million dollars. From each of us.” George wilted in his chair.
For a professional investigator like Chase it was almost embarrassing. He didn’t even have to ask any questions. The story tumbled out, confirming everything Brooke had suspected with some new twists. Video of them having sex with a beautiful woman; synthesized male voice on the phone threatens to tell the new wife. The last divorce cost tens of millions; new wife’s brother is a hot shot divorce attorney; and, no pre-nup.
George had even told the girl he loved her.
CHAPTER 44
Pay gave Richard his cold, never-blinking stare. “You’re doing ok in class.”
“I feel better about my ability to protect myself.”
“Still scared?”
“Yes, but not as much as before.”
“Had any run-ins with people in your neighborhood? North Beach has some pretty aggressive street people.”
“On my way home I walked past Centerfolds. One of the doormen tried to sort of push me inside.”
“Law says they can’t touch you.”
“I know. It looks friendly when they put their arm around your shoulder. But what they are really doing is using their size and strength to force you into the club.”
“What’d you do?”
“I used to cross the street to avoid them. Last night I pretended I was you and used the hand sweep Peggy taught us to get him off me.”
“Didn’t have to head-butt him or jab a finger in his eye, huh?” Pay grinned.
“No. But I was ready if I had to. And I’m pretty sure he knew it.”
“Confidence and being ready helps a lot.”
“I didn’t do much. But I got the feeling in a weird way he respected me.”
“How’d it feel?”
“It felt good. And it felt kind of bad. I got really focused and intense. Half an hour or so later I got real tired. It shouldn’t feel like that, should it?”
“It doesn’t for me. I find the clean burning fury of justifiable rage to be one of the best feelings in the world.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 45
After his meeting with Richard, Pay called Chase. “You track down Myron Baker?”
“Spent some time on Google and LinkedIn. Guy’s a single, successful businessman. Does something to do with developing and manufacturing batteries for electric cars. His Facebook is mostly business stuff and lots of party pics. Reading between the lines, he’s just a guy who fucks around.”
“Like to talk to him face-to-face.”
“I called the number on the video. It’s his cell. The voicemail says he’s in Europe on business. When I called his office, his admin said he’ll be back in about a week.”
“So, doesn’t look like he connects with the Mary Ellen thing?”
“Nah. Just looks like a player who got stalked by a pissed off husband. I can follow up when he gets back.”
“That asshole Rock can probably tell us what we need to know. Let’s grab him again. My turn this time.”
Pay hung up and headed out to meet Sam Hong for a late lunch. Even though the team wasn’t following Sam around anymore, Pay wanted to check in. He liked the guy and wanted to make sure he was safe.
Pay decided to walk the six or so blocks to the café instead of taking a taxi. His injured leg was feeling pretty good and he had plenty of time.
Sam ordered the senior breakfast: small cheese omelet, hash browns, one slice of sour dough toast, and coffee. “When you walk most of the night you tend to sleep late.”
The waitress knew Pay and brought him his usual: double cheeseburger, green salad with thousand, and a pitcher of iced tea. “Any trouble?”
“I still haven’t been able to find my old partner.”
“Couple thousand bucks could take him a long way.”
“Yes. But I’m going to keep looking. I’d like to help him if I can.”
“Other than that, everything ok?”
Sam smiled. There was a glint in his eye. “I think a man followed me the other night.”
“Yeah?”
“He stayed pretty far away. But he was the right size to be one of the men who kidnapped me.”
“You thinking about getting even?”
“Maybe.”
“I was you, I’d want to fuck the bastards up. You want me to hang around?”
“How’s the leg?”
“Almost 100%. If you’re worried about it, Chase could handle it.”
“I’ve got the guns, pepper spray and a knife, and I’m doing ok at the range. My military training is coming back faster than I thought.”
“I could loan you Blade for a while.”
“Jesus, Pay, beast like that will scare everyone away.”
“Thought that was the idea.”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
CHAPTER 46
The Revenge School students found that class was full of surprises. Clearly, they couldn’t actually break the instructor’s bones. And no one was willing to be tasered or maced for practice.
But Chase was something of a demented inventor. Along with Jon D, he’d built a whole bunch of specialty equipment which was very effective. So effective, the team could have made a living just selling piece
s to police departments and the military.
The Taser and the pepper spray turned out to be the worst surprises of the class. But there were others that kept the students from getting too comfortable. Punching bags that, when hit hard, randomly screamed or spurted red stuff that looked like blood. The artificial hands the class used to practice breaking fingers could suddenly zap them with an electric charge.
Richard hated the heavy bag. Sometimes you hit it and swung and swayed. Then you’d haul off and slam it with everything you had only to find out that it was suddenly completely immobile. A couple of students had broken knuckles. But if you didn’t hit it hard enough, it screamed, “Is that all you got? Losers die first.” Or worse. Much worse.
Equipment was reprogrammed without any warning to provide new surprises. Richard found out the hard way. He’d kicked the crap out of the heavy bag which triggered a huge foam-covered pole that came crashing down from the ceiling. It knocked him ‘ass over bruised elbows’ into the mat.
Once he was back on his feet, blood spewing from his nose, Richard took a screaming sidekick at the pole and sprained his ankle. Peggy taped him up, handed him water, a few over the counter anti-inflammatories, and then shoved him back on the mat.
Richard thought she was crazy. “I can hardly walk. I think I broke something.”
“Do you feel grating or grinding in your ankle?”
“No.”
“Are you in so much pain that your vision is seriously distorted? Does the pain from standing on it make you want to puke?”
“No.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“Uh, no.”
“Is your bleeding serious?”
Richard pointed at the blood dripping from his nose.
Peggy shook her head in disgust. “I’m almost blind, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you pointing at your stupid nose. Nobody ever died of a bloody nose.”
Richard looked at the floor which was spotted with his blood.
“Do you think a crook is going to say, ‘Oh poor guy, he’s hurt? I better finish mugging him another day.’”