Free Fall in Crimson by John D. MacDonald Page B

stare at me. Whiskers and hair and hard little eyes, like professional villain wrestlers.
    "That's a Merc you got in there, right?"
    "Close. It's a big Lincoln."
    "Custom heads?"
    I edged past them and closed the hood. "Yes, and some other goodies."
    "What'll it do?"
    "Absolutely no idea."
    "Too chicken to take it all the way?"
    "Not exactly. The needle sits against the pin at one twenty."
    "Why do you keep the outside looking like shit?"
    "I wasn't aware that it did."
    One looked at the other and said in a higher voice, "He wasn't aware that it did. Look, you use it to run something? Is that why it looks cruddy?"
    "Right now, I run myself home. Okay?"
    The near one grabbed, me by the arm and pulled me back as I started to step up onto the running board. "Maybe you're not through answering questions, Ace."
    It made me feel tired. I took his hand off my arm. "Friend, it has been nice having our little chat here. I do not want any childish hassling. Nobody has to prove anything. Okay?"
    The screen door opened and Ted came wheeling out onto the concrete walk. He said, "Hey Mike. Hey Knucks. What's happening?"
    "You know this guy?"
    "I know him. So?"
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    "Do you know he's got funny-looking truck?"
    "My sincere recommendation, don't mess with him."
    "Don't mess with Ace here? You kidding? This cat is over the hill."
    I looked at Ted, wondering why he was setting me up. I said, "What are you trying to do?"
    He shrugged. "It's been dull around here, sarge. And good old Knucks here has a nasty habit of trying to grope Mits every time she walks by."
    With an inward sigh I moved a few inches farther out of range. I'd been working out faithfully of late, and was right at two-oh-five, which is a very good weight for my six foot four. I look as if I would go about one eighty. The big advantage I had over these too-lardy fellows was a great deal of quick. Quick is what counts. Without the quick, they get to hit you in the face, and that is both demeaning and discouraging. Also, it hurts a lot. The secondary advantage is, of course, quite a few years of scrabbling a smart mouth and a Knucks, would be around, learning that the healthiest attitude is to inflict maximum pain in minimum time.
    And the way to create an opening is to create rage. I smiled at them. "Knucks? Ah, you are Knucks. You better recheck your tendency to grope the ladies. You look faggoty to me, pal."
    He came roaring and swinging, big roundhouse right and left blows, too smart to be a headhunter. At least not yet. He wanted to cave my ribs in first. I trotted about twenty feet backward, just out of range, and when I estimated he had picked up enough speed to compensate for the heft of him, I clapped both hands on his right wrist, rolled backwards, got my feet into his belly just as he was tumbling over me, and gave him a very brisk hoist, while still clinging to the wrist. He whomped the dust like a sack of sand dropped off the top of a building. As I released him, rolled to the side, and came up, I guessed from the sound of impact that good old Knucks was out of the game.
    I focused on Mike, coming at me at a half run, right fist cocked. I had time to decide whether to go under it, inside it, or outside it. Outside seemed best, but he waited so long I had to do a Muhammad Ali lean to get my face the final inch out of the way. I felt the breeze of it. He ran on by and was just starting to turn when I heel-stomped him in the back of the knee. He went down and came up, fighting for balance, arms spread wide. I hopped very close, braced my right heel, and pivoted so as to put my hips, back, shoulder, and arm into a very short straight right that went wrist deep into the bulge a few inches above his very fancy brass belt buckle.
    He lay down in a fetal position and began throwing up. Knucks was sitting up cradling his right arm. His face was all screwed up like a schoolyard child trying desperately not to cry. His arm came out of the shoulder at a slightly unusual