Jack turned the guy's wrist and rammed the blade—honed side down—through the belly of the forearm, sliding it between the two bones and out the other side. Above on the roof the guy howled and flopped about and tried to pull his arm out. But the protruding edges of the point and grip caught on the sides of the slit, forcing the cutting edge of the blade to slice further down his arm. The guy screamed now.
Jack jumped out of the car and saw Abe holding his bloody scalp with his left hand, a .45 automatic in his right, and leaning toward the passenger door. Vicky was next to him, crying, but Gia was nowhere in sight and the passenger door was open.
Jack charged around to the far side and found another guy with a knife, but the point of this one was held at Gia's throat.
"All we want is the truck," he said, breathing hard. He wore a clean plaid short-sleeve shirt and beige slacks, white socks and running shoes; he looked almost preppy except for the tattoos on his arms. "Give us the truck and no one will get hurt."
"We?" Jack said, pulling the Llama from its holster and slowly, methodically working the slide for full effect. He'd have to play this very carefully. "Us? Your 'we' and 'us' are already down. They're out of the picture."
He paused to allow the guy to appreciate the wails and moans from his buddies on the far side of the truck and get a good look at the 9mm automatic in Jack's hand. He slid further behind Gia.
"You think you can get away with this?" Jack said softly.
"Yeah. I can get away with anything, man! All the rules are off! Don't you see that?" He stared for a moment into the sky over Jack's left shoulder. "We got buildings and people flyin' off into space during the day and monsters chewin' up everything in sight all night. I been through detox twice, man, and I ain't never seen shit like this, even when I was strung out like bubblegum. Anything goes, man. School is out!
"Not my class," Jack said. "Let her go."
The guy pressed the knife blade to against Gia's throat. She winced at the sharp pressure.
"The truck or I'll cut her, man! I swear t' Christ I'll cut her fucking throat!"
Jack felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. Gia's panicked eyes pleaded with him. He gave her a little nod of encouragement as he controlled himself. Had to be cool here. Had to go slow.
But if this bastard so much as broke her skin…
Jack settled the Llama into a two-handed grip and raised it until it was sighted at the guy's right eye where he peeked out from behind Gia's ear.
"You've been watching too many movies, turkey," Jack said softly. "This kind of thing doesn't work in real life. I've got a gun and you've got a knife. You cut her, you've lost your shield." Jack took a step closer. "Now, so far today you and your buddies have hurt a very good friend, deeply frightened a little girl I couldn't care for more if she were my own flesh and blood, and manhandled the woman I love." Another small step closer. "So I'm royally pissed. But I'm willing to work a deal. Drop the knife and you live. I'll let you walk."
The guy's laugh was flat and tremulous as he peeked out from behind Gia's head to speak.
"Don't try to bullshit me. I got your bitch here. I've got a knife at her neck, I'm callin' the shots!"
A car came by, slowed for a look, then sped away. Jack slipped forward another step.
"Maybe I didn't make it clear. Listen again. Drop it, you live. Spill one drop of her blood, you die—slowly. First I shoot off your right kneecap, then your left, then your right elbow, then your left. Then a gut shot. Then I take your knife and start cutting off pieces I decide you don't need anymore and feed them to you."
"Jack…please!" Gia said.
"Sorry. Just want to let this guy know what he's in for."
"You think that scares me?" the guy said, peeking out again. "I'll show you how scared I—"
As he increased the pressure of the blade against Gia's throat, Jack shot him in the eye. His head snapped back, a red mist blooming behind him for an instant before dissipating; his arms flung outward as he lurched back and collapsed on the pavement.
Jack leaped forward and encircled Gia with his arms.
"Don't look," he said, watching over her shoulder as a red puddle grew under the guy's head.
But Gia turned for a quick glance, and just as quickly turned away. Jack led her back to the truck and they spent a few minutes calming Vicky. When mother and daughter were tightly wound in each other's arms, Jack looked past them to Abe.
"You okay to drive?"
Abe nodded. "Only a scratch. But that guy on the roof of your car—what's his problem?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack said. "Almost forgot about him."
He went back to his car and found the other knifer lying on the roof, pale, sweaty, looking sick.
"Don't hurt me," he said in a weak voice. "I give up."
Jack wondered how the guy would respond if situations were reversed. How much mercy could he expect from him and his buddies? He decided it didn't merit much consideration.
He ducked inside the Corvair. The back seat was covered with blood.
"You bled all over my car!" Jack shouted.
Through the torn roof he heard the guy begin to whimper. Disgusted, Jack yanked the knife blade from the guy's forearm. A muffled scream from above as he jerked his arm from the hole and rolled off the roof to the street. A couple more cars passed as Jack went to the corner and dropped the knife through a sewer grate, then returned to the truck.
He gave Gia and Vicky one last hug, then slammed the door shut.
"Better get going, Abe. Traffic's picking up."
"Jack," Gia said as he started back to his car. Her face was pale and tear-streaked as she stared at him through the window. "Would you have let him go if he dropped the knife? You had that look in your eyes, Jack. I've seen that look before. I know what it means. You would have let him go like you said, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," Jack said. "Sure."
He hoped he was convincing. Because he wasn't sure.
Pulling away from the scene, Jack glanced in the rearview mirror. One of their attackers lay in a pool of his own blood, staring skyward, another squatted on the pavement, moaning and cradling a bloody arm, while a third crawled toward the curb, dragging his broken legs behind him. Gia's question echoed in his head then and haunted him the rest of the way to the Lincoln Tunnel.
She knew him too well, damn it. Why'd she have to ask that question? He didn't like to think about that sort of thing. It wasn't necessary. The guy was dead. A part of Jack had taken immense pleasure in blowing his brains out the back of his head. But he'd learned to wall off that part of himself, to refuse to share in or even recognize the joyous partying in the dark corner behind the wall.
Would he have let the guy go? Abe bloodied, Vicky terrified, a knifepoint jabbed against Gia's throat—could he forgive that? Turn his back as the guy who'd caused it all sauntered off unscathed? Jack wasn't sure. Allowing someone who'd done damage to his friends to walk the streets with no pain or scars to remind him never even to think about doing something like that again…that might be too much to ask.
But if he'd said he'd let the guy go in exchange for dropping the knife, he'd have to do it. Or would he?
All the rules are off, man!
No. Not all of them. Some rules—at least the ones he had some say about—had to stay in effect.
He yawned. He hadn't had much sleep last night, and introspection was tough work.
Jack followed Abe's truck the rest of the way to the Lincoln Tunnel, watched and waved as it rolled down the ramp into the tiled gullet, then headed back uptown to Walt Duran's place. He hoped he'd made it through the night okay. And he hoped he was on schedule with his engraving. If not, Jack was going to have to induce him into a higher gear.