Street fighting is very different from traditional martial arts. Close combat is a dirty and uniquely violent engagement, where quick wits and aggression can overpower skill and training. This time there was something else to consider. Just one look into his assailant’s eyes, told Stone that this attacker intended to kill him. He had seen that look before. There was no logic behind that wild stare, and no compassion — just a lust for death and destruction. Stone knew, without any doubt at all, that he was fighting for his life.
Although he was too close to effectively use the baton, out of inexperience or anger, the guard continued to try to club Eric on the head. After the first two swings missed, he casually placed his left hand on the toilet paper dispenser for balance, and leaning forward, chopped down with the baton as hard as he could. Stone knew that his one chance of survival was to gain the upper hand quickly. With no room to move, he did the only thing he could. Stone took the massive blow on his left forearm, and then grabbed the guard’s broken nose with his right hand. Holding as tightly as he could, he viciously twisted and pulled at the man’s nose, grinding the broken bone and cartilage together.
Years of training had given Stone’s fingers immense strength, and even though his hand was slippery with blood, he was not about to let go. The guard let out a shrill scream and instantly dropped the baton. Then he started to claw frantically at Eric’s hand. Seeing an opening, Stone stood and jabbed the stiff fingers of his left hand into the attacker’s eyes. Temporarily blinded and in terrible pain, the guard spun away from the attack. The fight was not over; Stone knew that he had won but a temporary reprieve.
When the man presented his undefended back, Stone quickly looped his left arm around his neck, and pulled him into a chokehold. As he fell back onto the toilet seat, Stone raised his knees into the base of the guard’s back. Then he used his right arm to pull his left forearm tightly across the man’s neck. With his knees preventing the guard from gaining any purchase with his feet, Stone was easily able to choke him into unconsciousness.
No longer concerned about the welfare of his attacker, Stone maintained the chokehold for another minute, until he was sure that the man was either comatose, or dead — he didn’t check to see which. Luckily, nobody had tried to enter the restroom during the fight, so he was able to lock the cubical, vault over the door, and then wash his hands and leave, without being seen.
Flexing his battered left arm to try to restore some feeling, Eric clicked ‘send’ on his radio.
“Two down,” he whispered.
“Well done,” Carter replied. Linda didn’t comment.
Just then, the small walkie-talkie that Stone had taken from the first security guard crackled into life.
“Check in please — has anyone seen anything?” a cultured English voice asked.
There was a solitary reply.
“Jerry here. Nothing yet.”
Stone considered making a witty comment, or pretending to be one of the other security guards’, but he quickly dismissed the idea. For now, he preferred to keep the enemy guessing.
“Steve? Mike? Have you seen anything?”
Silence.
“Steve? Mike? Are you receiving?”
More silence.
“Jerry? Can you go and check on Steve and Mike, please?” the cultured voice asked politely.
“Ok,” Jerry replied in a slightly exasperated tone.
Stone quickly did the math, turned on his heel, and walked purposely towards the fire exit. He had decided that although there were three ways for Jerry to reach the first floor, the lift, the escalator, or the rear fire exit, the fire exit would be his most likely choice. He reasoned that the elevator was for old ladies, and cardiac patients, not fit aggressive men. The escalator was too exposed, being glass sided and in the center of the mall. Therefore, the fire exit stairs was Jerry’s most probable route. Eric figured that he had an 80 % chance of being right.
Once through the fire door, Stone went down the stairs two at a time until he reached the lower landing, then he stood back from the door and waited. Five seconds later Jerry burst through the fire exit, still clutching his walkie-talkie. Seeing someone at the bottom of the stairs, apparently coming in the opposite direction, he did the British thing. He stopped, politely stepped to the side, and mumbled ‘Sorry’. Then he looked at Eric’s face and his eyes were suddenly wide in surprise and recognition.
Stone reacted first. He took one quick stride forward and side-kicked Jerry’s leg, cleanly snapping the knee joint. Jerry screamed in agony, dropped his walkie-talkie, and fell to the floor clutching at his shattered leg. Stone casually stamped on the walkie-talkie until it was just a pile of shattered pieces, then he leaned forward and spoke in a voice as cold as steel.
“If you want to live, stay here.”
Jerry, already pasty faced and sweating, nodded feebly in response. Stone stepped through the door onto the ground floor of the mall, and called Carter again.
“Three down.”
“I can see a woman sitting outside the coffee bar,” Carter said, “I think it’s her.”
“I see her,” Stone replied. “Let’s go and have a chat.”
Carter arrived first, taking a seat and shaking hands with the woman. As Stone walked up, Carter turned and made the introductions.
“Eric. Allow me to introduce Helen Atkins.”
Stone circled around and stood behind Atkins, casually placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. It was a dominating and intimidating position, but one that an outsider would simply see as a loving husband standing behind his wife. She stiffened under his grip. Stone leaned forward and spoke quietly in her ear.
“In a minute you’re going to stand up and walk with us to my car. When we get there you’re going to tell me everything you know about the Wrecking Crew.”
“I will not!” She said firmly.
Stone and Carter shared a smile. Atkins had not asked what they were talking about, or attempted to deny her knowledge of the Wrecking Crew. She had simply refused to co-operate. Helen Atkins was a member of the Wrecking Crew! Stone leaned a little closer.
“Look around you, Helen. You’re on your own here. Your security men are all taking a little nap, and I have a very sharp knife.”
He tightened his grip on her shoulders.
“Did you ever hear of cutting off your nose to spite your face?”
She turned her head desperately; eyes wide in fear, but seeing no hope of rescue, her shoulders soon slumped in defeat.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“Stand up and walk to my car, it’s in the parking lot behind you. If you do as I ask, you will not be harmed. You have my word.”
She stood stiffly. Carter quickly stepped forward and took her arm, as if to provide some support for someone feeling a little unwell. Stone walked a few paces behind, where he could keep an eye out for any attackers, and be ready in case Atkins decided to run. As they entered the parking lot, Helen Atkins turned defiantly and glared at Stone.
“You can’t win. You’re going to die. He won’t let you win — he never will.”
“Who won’t?” Carter asked, “Who won’t let us win?”
Helen Atkins said nothing, until they reached Stones car, then she pointed and smiled.
“You see — you can’t win,” she sneered.
Stone looked into the car and recoiled in shock. It was empty. Linda had disappeared.
SIXTEEN
Three times, Stone called Linda on the radio. Three times, he listened to static. He stood on the car’s doorsill, and searched the parking lot in desperation, but there was no sign of her. Helen Atkins smiled cruelly.