The Black Stiletto: Stars & Stripes Read Online Free PDF

a
Harai-te
—a sweeping gesture that powerfully knocked my attack out of the way. Before
I
could comprehend what had just happened, I felt a tremendous strike in my stomach. He had kicked me! And then, as I was in the process of doubling over, he landed three swift wallops to my face with moves I’d never seen before. Needless to say, I went down.
    The woman screamed louder.
    The gunman started to run out, but he had to get past me to reach the door. I had the presence of mind to stick my leg up as he jumped over me. He tripped and crashed into a table, pulling off the tablecloth and condiments.
    By then we had company. The driver entered the restaurant. He, too, was a young Chinese fellow. He went straight for me as his pal stood. I rolled and rose to my feet just as the newcomer attacked me with martial arts techniques that were beyond my comprehension. Dear diary, I had attained a black belt in
karate
and
judo
, but these two guys had something else going on. Looking back, I figure it was the difference between Chinese and Japanese martial arts. Whatever it was, they had me at a disadvantage.
    I held my own, though. The next thirty seconds was a flurry of hand blocks, front and side kicks, and my “crescent moon” kicks—one of which successfully knocked the second guy to the floor.
Judo
throws were impossible. I simply couldn’t get close enough to my opponents. They had the ability to hit and slap me repeatedly and rapidly, and it hurt like the dickens. I tried my best to anticipate themaneuvers with what Soichiro taught me, but the blocks didn’t work. It was as if their technique had been developed specifically to combat my own. The two men moved incredibly fast, using their entire bodies acrobatically to deliver excruciating jolts with their fists, spear hands, and feet.
    It didn’t take long for them to have me against the wall. I was doing my best to defend myself, but I was losing. It was only then that I got a good look at their faces. The gunman, on the left, had pockmarked cheeks and a scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth along the edge of his chin. The other guy wasn’t as distinctive, but I noticed he had blue eyes instead of brown, the way most Chinese do.
    I couldn’t take much more punishment, so I turned to the last resort—I drew my stiletto and pointed the blade at them. By then, the two men were working in tandem. Pock Face feigned a kick, so I prepared to block it, but it was Blue Eyes who actually delivered a kick I didn’t see coming. He knocked the knife out of my hand and it went flying across the room. Then Pock Face performed a back kick, similar to the
Ushiro-geri
that I knew, but
different
, and it whacked me hard in the face. I went down with stars in my eyes and a ringing in my ears. I think I may have lost consciousness for a second or two, for the next thing I knew, the woman was screaming again. I looked up and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
    The teenage boy was now fighting the two killers, and he was using the same techniques as his opponents. The woman—who was undoubtedly the boy’s mother—was pleading for him to stop. There was no translation needed: “Stop it, they’ll kill you!”
    Dazed, a bit broken, and, yes, bleeding from the mouth and nose, I forced myself to get up. I didn’t know how old the kid was, but if a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy was going to come to my aid, then, by God, I was going to his!
    So I joined the melee. And that kid was good! He held his own. I remember at one point he was behind a table that was still covered with someone’s dirty dishes. The boy grabbed the tablecloth, pulledit, and flung it so that all the plates soared at Blue Eyes like missiles. The tablecloth itself spread in the air and covered the man’s head like a canopy. Now blinded, he was momentarily helpless. The kid looked at me and nodded. That was my cue. I let the cloth-covered