Читать книгу In the Name of God - Stephen J. Gordon - Страница 9

5

I needed to get my meeting with Amit out of my system. Fortunately, I had a class to teach in a few hours and that would distract me. Unfortunately, my growing distaste for what just happened would come out somehow, either in my physical handling of my older students or in what I said. In any case, not good. I needed to mellow out. Jonathan took off to get some work done: his family was into commercial real estate and he had to check on some properties, so this left me alone.

I worked out for an hour and a half — not the meditative stuff I did before, but intricate, active physical movements — and then I showered and went next door for lunch. I ordered a roasted vegetable sandwich, and instead of any number of natural iced teas, I opted for plain water. As I sat at a table facing the room, I reviewed my actions of last night. I replayed how I handled the waiter and my conversation with the police and Shin Bet. The only thing I could have handled differently is what I said to the Israelis. I could’ve been more forthcoming, but I wasn’t sure what that would have accomplished, except for revealing personal information I wanted to keep to myself. I shrugged and bit into the sandwich.

After finishing my sandwich and draining my glass of water, I headed back to the studio to call Alli. Since I had a late afternoon class, she volunteered to come by after work so we could go out to dinner from there. I still wasn’t sure what was going on with us, but we might as well continue seeing each other until our feelings became more clear — one way or the other. Lord knows what she was expecting. Lord knows what I was expecting.

By the time my five o’clock class came around, I was feeling better... more upbeat, more centered. Something continued to nag at me, though. Amit said that last night someone was watching me when we came outside. I wasn’t convinced he was telling the truth, but if he was, I should’ve noticed.

With all this bouncing around my head, I let Jonathan start the new beginner’s class. There were about fifteen new faces for this session, and they were all crowded in front of him. Half of the group were ten and eleven year old boys and girls, while the rest were older kids and adults. The three older students were in their late teens/early twenties — college age — and two were co-eds. The ladies were slender, while the lone young man was more filled out. They joked with each other, obviously good friends.

For the most part, the newbies were dressed in T-shirts and shorts. A few of the after-school kids had white gis from a previous martial arts experience. Since this was the first class, of a new session I didn’t make uniforms a requirement. That would come in time.

Jon divided the entire group into three rows of five and had the class spread out across the room. He kept younger kids up front, the older, taller students toward the back.

After the traditional bow, Jon led the workout, beginning with head rotations to loosen their neck muscles. In the minutes that followed, he took them through more stretching routines from top to bottom — head, arms, trunk, and legs. He worked on balance exercises for kicks: they stood on one leg, with the supporting knee slightly bent, and then they extended the other leg. Most of the students were able to keep their balance for the allotted time. Some, though, teetered on their supporting leg and kept falling over. The college women seemed to do well, as did a few of the younger students.

At one point Jon and I made eye contact, and with a slight nod he called me over. “That’s her in back,” he whispered, “the one I left you a message about last night.”

I looked at the college kids in the back row. He had described the new love of his life as being tall with long blonde hair and an amazing smile; a junior at Hopkins. Both college girls were on the tall side and both had long hair, so I couldn’t tell which one he meant.

“All right, everyone on the floor, on your backs,” Jon got back to work. “Leg lifts.”

He had them supine, with hands tucked under the small of their backs for support. Jon ordered them to raise their feet about a foot off the floor. He modeled everything from up front.

“Now, hold it.” Everyone, including Jon, froze with legs off the ground.

As he worked them — and probably harder than he had to — I wandered up and down the lines to see if I could make anyone nervous. For the most part, they all seemed pretty focused. But then they hadn’t seen me hit Jon yet.

The after-school kids in front began to moan. The class was still in the leg-raised position. One student dropped his feet to the floor. Then another kid did the same.

“Keep those legs up there.” The students struggled to lift their legs. “Okay, now on your bellies. Push ups on the knuckles, except for you kids in front. You guys just use open palms.”

Jon clenched his fists, put them on the floor, knuckles down, and began counting as he pushed up. The class began to follow. I watched the coeds. They were in the middle of their line, and the one on the left, seemed particularly driven. She was dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt and had long blonde hair that was held together by a silver barrette. She was keeping up with Jon’s vigorous count.

“Okay, relax.”

Everyone moved into a sitting position and the few students who attempted the knuckle push-ups gingerly opened their hands. The blonde college girl with the barrette was one of them. Now that she was sitting up I got a better look at her. She was, indeed, a looker. Young, slender but curvy, she had beautiful clear skin, high cheekbones and dark eyes. Her face was red with exertion and beads of sweat had formed on her upper lip. I could also now make out her T-shirt. It had a beautiful depiction of Chinese zodiac symbols, from dragon to tiger to snake, and all signs in between.

I moved behind her so she couldn’t see me. I caught Jon’s attention. Out of her line of sight I pointed to her and he discretely nodded. I smiled.

Jon continued with crunches and more leg stretches. Finally, he turned to me and said, “Okay, Sifu, they’re all yours.”

The class turned to me and I headed to the front of the room. “Good afternoon, everyone.” I was dressed in a pair of black military-issue BDU pants and a turquoise T-shirt depicting an Oriental mountain scene. Very untraditional for a martial arts class. “Anyone ever hear the expression, ‘Your money or your life’?” I looked the group over.

There were a few murmuring acknowledgments.

“Well, it’s not true...not anymore. I know of a young man who was on the “A” train in New York a number of years ago with his girlfriend. They were headed to a movie when two guys came up and demanded his money. He gave it to them. Guess what happened next. They wanted his watch...then his ring...then his girlfriend.”

I paused for effect.

“And today,” I scanned the faces as I spoke, “even if you give them everything, they might just shoot you for the hell of it...just because.”

I turned to Jon and waved him over. He hustled and stopped right in front of me.

“Reach for me, please,” I said to him.

Jon took a step forward, reaching for me with an open right hand. I parried his arm, side-stepping his grasp. I simultaneously swiveled his far shoulder backwards toward me and swept his right foot. He collapsed to the ground. Jon lay there for a moment, and then sprang to his feet.

“A fight’s over in less than three seconds, one way or the other. If you want to be the one standing, you better be good. Let’s get started.”

I began with basic fist and horse stance. With Jon’s assistance, we circulated through the ranks to make sure everyone was on the right track. I noticed he often returned to the blonde college girl to adjust her arm and hip positions.

In what seemed a matter of moments, the sixty minute class was over. I gave them my homework expectations and then wished them all a good evening. For the most part, the students both young and old left the room, buzzing about what they had just learned.

As the last of the students filed out, Alli walked in. She was wearing white slacks and a green polo shirt that had a white “Northwest Physical Therapy” logo above the left breast. “Hi there,” she smiled.

“Hi there.” I leaned in and kissed her.

“Good class?”

“Yeah, pretty good. Jon has his eye on a very attractive new student, a college junior he says.” I looked around for my senior student but didn’t see him.

“I saw him outside, talking to this awesome-looking blonde.”

“That’s her.”

“No policy about dating students?” she asked smiling. I didn’t know if she were serious or not.

“For me, yes. Him, no.”

“Sounds fair. So, where do you want to go to dinner?”

“How ‘bout Little Italy? Haven’t been there in a while.”

“Okay, nothing too fancy, though. I’m not dressed for it.”

“Fine with me.”

“And why don’t we ask Jon to come along. He’s never joined us.”

“Sure, but the boy is busy. He may already have plans.”

No sooner had I said it, then Jon came back into the room with a huge smile on his face.

“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You have a date.”

“Tomorrow night,” he beamed.

“Jon, Jon, Jon,” I said. “You must be losing your touch.”

“What?”

“Not tonight?”

“I guess she needs the time to dump whoever she’s currently with.”

“Uh huh.”

“So since you’re free,” Alli said, “you can join us for dinner.”

“Definitely,” he looked at me, “If it’s okay with Sifu.”

“Oh, I suppose.” I smiled, then turned to Alli. “Let me just change my shirt and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Me too,” Jon said.

With that, I headed to my office to change while Jon went to the men’s room to quickly wash up. Once in my inner sanctum I pulled off my T-shirt and changed into a blue polo that I kept around. My black cargo-BDU pants would be fine for a casual evening. Besides, I didn’t have another pair of pants. When I returned to the main hall, Alli was checking her cell phone. Jon soon joined us — he had changed into Dockers and a sport shirt — and we were off.

Alli and I rode in my Jeep and Jon followed us in his Mitsubishi Eclipse. We headed down I-83 — the same road I took last night to Alli’s — but instead of heading to Federal Hill, I turned left onto Eastern Avenue.

Little Italy, just east of the highway, is just a few square blocks of narrow streets, row houses, eateries, and minimal parking. Curb-side spaces are all but impossible to come by, particularly at dinner time. We circled the block a few times until we came upon a middle-aged couple just getting into their late-model Audi. I waited patiently and then pulled into their spot. Jon, in his Eclipse, drove past, continuing his search. He turned a corner and disappeared.

Alli and I got out and walked toward where Jon had disappeared. Before we made it to the end of the block, Jon came

sauntering around the corner. “There’re three spaces just up the street.”

“Naturally,” I said.

As we crossed onto High Street, I scanned the area we had just left. A number of pedestrians were walking in our direction. Several were dressed up: sport coats or semi-dressy skirts and nice blouses.

I stopped for a moment, letting Alli and Jon continue on ahead. I looked back toward where we had parked, and I saw a group of four boys, hanging out at the line of cars. The kids were probably about sixteen or seventeen, and for the most part were dressed in jeans and T-shirts. They looked out of place among the young marrieds and professionals. I could see that one of the boys had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and he was on crutches...not the wood version, but the aluminum type. Every few seconds the quartet looked over at me. I watched them watch me.

Jon and Alli came back for me, thinking I was just taking in the scenery, and the three of us returned to the task of picking out a restaurant. We settled on a new place called Testa’s, and stepped inside. By now it was 6:30 and the restaurant was moderately full. I was glad to see that they were busy so early in the week. A tall, balding maitre d’ dressed in a black dinner jacket met us, and inquired as to the number in our party. As he checked a seating chart, we looked around. The place was relatively small, but filled with booths along the perimeter and

tables in the middle of the room. The decor was continental, with dark woodwork, and Rubenesque paintings on the walls.

In a matter of minutes, we were seated at a table near the back and had menus in hand. A young, perky waitress came over a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of olive oil and a basket of warm bread. She filled the small saucer in the middle of our table, and I wasted no time in tearing off a piece of the warm bread, dipping it into the olive oil, and popping it into my mouth. As we knew what we wanted, we ordered: Alli had settled on Veal Parmesan, Jon went for spinach ravioli, and I was having linguine with mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes.

While we waited for our food, Alli turned to Jon. “So, I understand you have a life besides karate.”

“There is no life besides karate,” he said smiling. “Okay, there is something else I do between workouts. My family has some commercial properties in the city and I help manage them.”

“Like businesses or offices?

“Mainly offices and apartment buildings. My dad got started when he was relatively young — probably in his early twenties. I guess I’m the heir apparent, though I don’t know if it’s what I want to do the rest of my life.”

“Jon’s father wants him to try the business for a while before making up his mind,” I said.

“Sounds practical,” Alli commented. “He’s a sharp man, I bet.”

“And very generous,” I added.

“Sifu helped my father out a few years ago and he wanted to repay the kindness.”

“The place I have, the dojo, is a present from him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. And he won’t hear of me paying rent or anything. Incredibly magnanimous.”

Alli didn’t ask what I did for him, and Jon didn’t volunteer any information. I was glad for that. Instead, Jon just tore a piece of bread from the basket in front of us and dipped it into the olive oil.

“So,” Alli said after a moment went by, “did Gidon tell you about last night?”

“A little bit.”

Bless him. He had more of an inside track as to what happened than Alli, even though she was there, but he didn’t say anything. Jon also knew about the Shin Bet man coming to see me. That news I hadn’t shared with Alli.

“So, what d’you think,” she looked at Jon. “Why would anyone want to assassinate the man running for Prime Minister of Israel?”

“Someone doesn’t like his politics. Or could be a religious thing — you can never tell when it’s the Middle East. Or maybe he was just paid.”

“I vote for that,” I said quietly.

“That he was just hired to kill him?” Alli asked. “Why?”

“I’m tired of young fanatics killing in the name of God.”

“What do you mean?”

As I looked at Alli I could see Jon looking at me, too. I just shrugged, trying to blow it off, not wanting to pursue this.

“So, it was an exciting evening,” Jon jumped in. “Not your typical banquet.”

Alli came back to it: “Do you think he was working alone? I mean what are the chances of that?”

My eyes drifted to the front window, and in my mind I could picture four boys near my car across the street...the four of them...and one was on crutches. Last night when we came out of the synagogue, there was a group of boys watching the excitement. One of them was on aluminum crutches. The metal had glinted in the police lights.

“So, how ‘bout them O’s,” I heard Jon say.

I looked back at Jon and Alli. “What?”

“The Orioles, boss,” Jon repeated. “Do you think they’ll do better this year?” He turned to Alli. “I have a friend who has a skybox. Anytime you want to go to the game...”

“Thanks,” Alli responded. “Save it for your new girlfriend.”

Our meals arrived shortly and the conversation turned from the Orioles to the Ravens, to Jon’s background, to Alli’s work. When we finished the main course, our waitress returned and presented us with the idea of dessert. We looked at each other and we all shook our heads.

“Another time,” I said to the waitress.

She brought the check, I paid it, and we headed outside.

Instead of starting to walk, we just paused in front of the entrance to stretch — or at least to let our stomachs expand. By now the sun had set and the ambient light was beginning to recede. Street lights had come on and store signs had started glowing.

“Thanks for the treat,” Jon said as we started walking up to the left.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just raise your dues.”

“He’s kidding, right?” Alli asked Jon.

“I’m never sure.”

We continued heading up the street. As we did so, I nonchalantly looked around for the group of kids I had seen before. God, I hoped they wouldn’t get in my face. As I scanned the area, there was no sign of them. The three of us ambled up the block, checking out other shop windows. The store fronts soon changed to private row houses. In front of several doorways residents were sitting on their marble steps, just taking in the neighborhood.

As we strolled I listened to Jon and Alli talk. I looked at them, smiled from time to time as they turned to me, but basically kept to myself. I was beginning to feel tired. The early evening air was quiet, and there was an orange glow to the sky as the city’s high pressure sodium lights tinted the heavens. I watched as more than one couple walked past, arm-in-arm.

I started thinking about Alli again. I thought about the age difference...about the life difference. I just didn’t know what to feel, or was supposed to feel, about her. Everything would be fine and then, as I spent more time with her, I’d become drained. Like now. We started upbeat back in the dojo, then the discussion about last night, put me off. I just wished she hadn’t asked me any questions. But that shouldn’t be a problem, really, if everything were all right.

“So, Sifu,” Jon said interrupting my introspection, “it’d be good to know a physical therapist in our line of work, don’t you think? Now we just need an orthopedist. We could have them on retainers.”

I brought myself back. “Not a great thing to advertise, though. ‘Come to Gidon’s karate class. We have a physical therapist and orthopedist on premises!’ ”

“I see what you mean.”

We rounded a corner and headed up toward Jon’s car.

“I got it,” Jon said to Alli, “forget the retainer. You’ll just have to join us.”

“I think I’ll just come after class, if I’m invited,” she looked at me.

I turned to her to say Lord knows what, but then I saw Jon’s car. Or rather I saw a kid, perhaps seventeen, sitting on the hood of Jon’s car. He had a pair of aluminum crutches leaning against the front right fender.

As we approached, three other kids, who were leaning on an adjacent car, joined him. The boy on Jon’s hood slid down and walked toward us. I guess the crutches were just an accessory, like sunglasses. He stood tall, probably five eleven, and was a little on the skinny side. He had curly black hair and cold, black eyes. Too cold for someone his age.

To either side of him were two boys, also around seventeen. The one on the right wore a backwards Yankees cap — I could tell because “Yankees” was written above the adjustable strap. In this town, wearing a Yankees cap was a definite statement of defiance. The third boy — the one to crutch boy’s left — had a young Rasputin look about him with long, stringy dark hair parted in the middle. He was wiry and kept both hands wide open, fingers spread apart. Behind them was a fourth boy. This one looked younger and very uncomfortable. He was fidgeting and licked his lips nervously.

The three of us stopped in front of them, Jon and Alli were to my left.

I was not in the mood for this. Even as my heartbeat came up slightly, I let out a breath and relaxed. If the leader lifted his hand, or if it disappeared into a pocket, I’d hit him just like I’d punch a stone to break it.

My only thought was why didn’t they just leave me alone. I wasn’t looking for them. I was going out of my way not to look for them. The Israelis wanted these kids, I didn’t.

The evening air around us was motionless.

I hadn’t been in a street fight for a while. Didn’t matter. First I’d take the leader, then the other three. I had my techniques picked out.

I looked into the leader’s eyes and felt the blood move to my hands.

“Oh man, I don’t believe this,” Jon broke in. He stepped away from us and to the side. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“What are you doing?” the leader spoke with a slight accent. I couldn’t place it. Eastern Europe? Russia?

“Well, I don’t want to get blood all over my clothes. That really sucks.” Jon moved animatedly over toward the leader. “You guys are in for a treat. Well, I am anyway. You guys ought to be honored.”

Alli looked at me nervously. She wasn’t sure what was going on. The group of boys just watched Jon.

“Gotta tell you,” he continued, “I never thought I’d see this. I’ve heard stories about this man,” he pointed to me, “but I never thought I’d see him in action. I know he doesn’t look like much, but, man, this is going to be over in five seconds. I wish I had video. Wait, I’ve got my phone.” He pulled out his cell. “You guys don’t know who this is, do you?”

They just looked at him blankly. The boy in back was really jumpy now. He looked like he was going to empty his bladder.

“This is Master Gidon Aronson. You can call him ‘Sifu.’ There’s been a lot of shit in his life and he’s going to hit you with all of it. Right now. I figure at least one of you will be dead before you hit the ground. The rest of you I figure, what Sifu,” he turned to me again, “internal injuries, bleeding, ruptured things? Alli, you may want to stand over here with me. Once he gets cooking, you don’t want to be in the way.” He reached over and pulled her closer to him.

Jon was on a roll. He leaned over to Alli. “You are about to see a master craftsman in action.” He turned back to the leader. “And if you think you’re faster than him, forget it.

I never see it coming when he hits me and I work with him all the time.”

Jon turned to Alli, who didn’t look too steady herself. All the blood had drained from her face. “This is going to be really good,” he said to no one in particular. Then to the leader: “So, go ahead, reach for something, or move a hand toward him. Go ahead.”

No one moved. The only sound came from an air conditioner somewhere above us.

I could see the pulse in the leader’s neck. It was moving fairly rapidly. I looked at the leader and...smiled.

A full two seconds went by when the nervous boy in back spoke up, “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Shut up, Pavel,” the leader spat out.

The leader continued to look at me. His cold eyes now had hatred in them. He didn’t know how to get out of the mess he had put his group in. I knew that he knew I would kill him, and he didn’t know how to extricate himself.

I looked into his eyes and said very softly, “Go away.”

Another moment went by.

The boy to his right, the one with the backwards Yankees cap, tugged at his arm. “Let’s go.”

The group began to back up. Finally, they headed back across the street to an Altima Coupe and climbed in. With the engine roaring, they defiantly tore out of the space.

We watched as they disappeared around the corner. I looked over at Jon then at Alli. She ran over to me and wrapped her arms around my chest. Her entire body was shaking. I looked over her shoulder to Jon. “I ‘don’t look like much’?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll let it go this time.”

We stayed just like that for another minute with Alli’s arms around me, then we slowly started walking again. We passed Jon’s car and continued up the block. By the time we had gotten to the corner, Alli had unpried herself from me.

Finally, Jon asked, “What do you suppose that was all about?”

“I don’t know. Revenge?...If they’re connected to the guy from last night. Or maybe they just want me out of the way. Maybe they think I can identify them.”

“Well, you can now,” Jon said.

We turned and headed back.

“Are you going to tell the police?” Alli asked.

“I guess. I’ll call them after I take you home.”

We walked to Jon’s Eclipse. He opened the door, but turned to Alli, “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

Jon got in, turned on the engine, and rolled down the window. “Dinner and an almost mugging. Not bad.”

“Last night it was dinner and an almost assassination. I don’t want to think about tomorrow night.”

Jon half-laughed, “See you tomorrow,” and pulled away from the curb.

I turned to Alli. “Time for me to take you home.”

“Sounds good.”

She leaned on me again and we went back to my car. The ride to Alli’s place took ten minutes, and the entire time she held my hand. I didn’t press for conversation. Talking about what just happened would be counterproductive and I didn’t feel like filling the silence.

I found a parking spot on Battery Avenue on Federal Hill around the corner from her door, and didn’t hesitate to pull in; there wasn’t going to be anything closer. We got out of the car and I put my hand back in hers. As we strolled to her house, the night seemed refreshingly serene. The brick sidewalk looked particularly clean beneath the street lights and there was even a little more air movement here. The neighborhood was calm. Peaceful.

We approached her door and I let go of her hand. “Do you want to come in?” she looked into my eyes. “You probably could use a drink.”

Alli still looked a little shaken and I didn’t want to leave her alone just yet. Besides, I could use a drink. “Sounds good. I’d love t–”

I felt more than heard the movement behind me. I spun around, with my right hand already moving up for a block. I didn’t know what was behind me, but I wasn’t about to take a chance. A stainless steel hatchet flashed in the orange lamppost light.

The weapon came down — that’s all I saw, that’s all I was focused on — but I caught the arm that held it just above his elbow and redirected it, mostly with its own momentum, to the side, across the attacker’s body. My movement was fluid. The man was now sideways to me and I punched him with my left fist just below the corner of his right eye. I heard his cheekbones crack. I hit him twice more. Blood spurted out of his ear. As he fell, I caught a glimpse of his face. It was the kid leader from the aborted mugging not more than thirty minutes ago.

He was using a hatchet. That’s all that went through my mind.

I looked up to see his three buddies now standing over him. The one with the backwards Yankees cap was closest. Next to him was the straight-haired wiry kid and then the one who had seemed really nervous. He was already backing up. The kid with the Yankees cap began to reach for something in his back pocket. Before he could bring his hand out, I kicked him just under his belt buckle where the front of his pelvis was located. He collapsed straight downward, writhing in pain. I moved toward the other two. They turned and ran.

I went back to the leader, the kid who didn’t need crutches, the kid whose eyes were among the coldest I had ever seen. He was motionless on the ground, the side of his face already turning a purplish red. His right eye was beginning to swell shut. I knew I had broken his cheekbones and probably part of his upper jaw. The hatchet he planned to cleave my skull with had fallen to the ground next to his side. I walked over to his right hand, the one that had held the weapon, and stamped down on it. There were several distinctive cracks.

I looked back up at Alli. She had gone pale again. She started trembling and then threw up. Several times. I put my arm around her shoulders and led her to her steps so she could sit down. As I sat holding her, I looked from the motionless figure on the ground to his partner doubled over in pain.

Shit. They just couldn’t leave it alone.

With one hand still around Alli, I reached for my cell phone. In my contact list I found a number I hadn’t used in more than half a year. I let my thoughts settle, looked back at the bodies, and then pressed “call.”