CHAPTER 12: Dancing in the Shadows

 

Rome

 

The apartment Lucam Mattisse lived in was located in a section of Rome that was a maze of back alleys and narrow streets alive with activity. Kevin parked the Lotus across the street and got out. The wind had kicked up, blowing fallen leaves about the cobbled streets. A group of children darted about, laughing gleefully.

Kevin entered the building and took a flight of stairs to the second floor. He could hear a television blaring in someone's apartment. Roman entertainment. From gladiators to soap operas.

Kevin found the apartment and tried the door. It was locked. He took the two lockpicks out of his wallet and had the door open in seconds. He put the lockpicks away and eased into the apartment.

It was dim and smelled slightly dank, the odor of disuse, and was shabbily furnished, a testament to Mattisse's relatively mediocre career as a thief. Kevin searched the living room until he was satisfied that the painting wasn't there, then moved to the bedroom. He paused at the doorway, a strange sensation tickling the base of his awareness. He'd felt it enough times in the Vietnam war to know that it was his danger sense kicking in.

Suddenly the door closed on him, knocking him tumbling into the livingroom, then popped free of its hinges with a horrendous splintering of wood. Kevin rolled, getting out of the way of door, which fell almost in two pieces.

"Bloody fucking hail Mary," Kevin whispered as he watched the huge figure step through the ruined the doorway.

The man was Japanese, wearing a tailered white sharkskin suit, perhaps an inch shorter than Kevin, but more than three times his girth--all muscle and hard fat. His shaved head shone with light oil and his eyes were mere slits in their epicanthic folds. A jagged scar, like the flesh had been gouged, covered his right cheek. A sinister leer curled his thick lips and he grunted.

Kevin's attention left the man and focused on the weapon he carried. It was a tetsubo, a shaft of iron half the length of a bo staff, and thick as a man's upper thigh, studded at both ends. It weighed in the naighborhood of a hundred pounds and one tap could open a man's skull like an eggshell. There were rumors of highly illegal tetsubo matches where two opponents squared off and pounded one another until one was dead or crippled so badly, he couldn't fight.

Kevin rolled back onto his hands and shoulders and did a snap-up into a fighting stance, face expressionless. The tetsubo fighter smiled and moved and Kevin speeddrew his Browning. He managed to get one shot off before a swing of the heavy iron weapon knocked the gun out of his hand with a painful popping on contact. The Browning flew across the living room and landed in a chair. Kevin shook his right hand and knew it was useless. It was already swelling and turning a dark purple. Blood showed where Kevin's shot had hit the tetsubo fighter's left shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I will crush you piece by piece, little man," the tetsubo fighter said in japanese. He moved in with a short jab. Kevin twisted aside and stepped back. The tetsubo fighter continued to use jabs and short swings to force Kevin back to wall. Kevin grabbed an end table with his left hand and threw it. The tetsubo fighter knocked it aside with a contemptuous flick of his weapon and stepped in with a powerful blow aimed at Kevin's head. Kevin ducked and the tetsubo went completely through the wall. While the weapon was stuck momentarily, Kevin stepped in with a percussive kite strike to the rib cage, just under the armpit. He felt several ribs give with a series of pops. His assailant grunted, then brought an elbow against Kevin's head that sent him tumbling into a planter, dazed.

Kevin recovered, and when he saw his opponent's face, it was devoid of mockery. The man realized just how dangerous Kevin was, and now he was all business. Kevin knew the tetsubo fighter would not underestimate him again. Blocking the thick iron bar was out of the question. And he probably was not as quick as Kevin, but he was quick enough. Kevin found himself maneuvering so that objects were between them.

They were silent as they shifted, looking eye to eye, aware of the nuances of body language, each looking for an opening.

The tetsubo flicked straight out and Kevin dodged just enough to avoid it, but impossibly, its wielder changed from thrust to swing and Kevin couldn't avoid it. He turned, taking the blow on his left shoulder, tumbling with it to minimize the damage. The blow still numbed his shoulder as he rolled to his feet.

But his enemy was pressing the attack, taking great swings, destroying the walls and furniture. Kevin dodged and rolled, avoiding that terrible weapon.

Sensation and control gradually returned to Kevin's arm and shoulder and he realized the only way to stop the tetsubo warrior was with a breaking blow to the sternum, and there was only one way to do that...

Kevin moved about, feigning fatigue, lulling his opponent into a false sense of security. Then the moment came. Kevin feinted an attack, slowing it enough so that his attacker could telegraph the move, already controlling his breathing for what was next.

Kevin stepped just so, gathering intrinsic force. The tetsubo warrior mistook that as further fatigue and stepped in with a full swing of his weapon, sure of his target, a blow that would drive Kevin's stomach into his spine.

Kevin saw that his opponent was committed to the attack and let out a powerful kiai, tensing his body as hard as steel, as the tetsubo hit full force just below the solar plexus. It was a blow designed to shatter all the vital organs from within. Kevin's entire body shuddered from the sheer power of it, but he remained firmly planted on his feet, absorbing the blow fully.

Surprise registered on the tetsubo fighter's face an instant before Kevin, still continuing the kiai, connected solidly with a palm heel strike that split the bigger man's sternum on impact, puncturing the heart beneath.

The fighter's face constricted as he clutched his chest, then toppled face forward, his eyes completely glazed. His weapon hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Kevin continued to focus within, relaxing by increments until he was breathing normally. His entire abdomen under the sleeveless tee was a thick welt of purple. He shrugged out of the tee, then held his useless right hand with his left, probing gently. He discovered several dislodged bones and popped them back into place.

Kevin went to the fallen tetsubo fighter, checked for a pulse at the neck and found none. He raised his right leg and drew the Seecamp .32 from the ankle holster with his left hand, then flipped it so that he gripped the gun by its slide. A quick jerk of the hand and the round was chambered. He flipped the gun back over, placed the muzzle against his attacker's forehead, and pulled the trigger. The head jerked, spewing blood.

"Just in case ye try to reincarnate," he murmured at the corpse. He heard a sound at the front door and whirled, gun aimed.

Delta came in, said, "It's me, Kevin." She was carrying his Browning. Kevin lowered the gun to his side and Delta touched the angry purple welt on his abdomen. Kevin flinched, then kissed her on the forehead. "We found the painting and realized the Japanese would come here next when they hadn't found it. Sorry we didn't get here in time."

"I'm not. A tetsubo fighter is someone you don't want to tangle with."

"A tet-su-bo fighter--?"

Kevin pointed to the dead body and the fallen weapon.

"Fuck..." Delta whispered. "There's a hole in his head. Before or after?"

"After."

"What'd you do to him?"

"The same thing you did to Ikara's ninja--broke his chest."

Delta grimaced. "Police are on the way. We have to get you to a hospital."

"Ye'll have to drive."

Karen came in, surveying the destruction. "All's clear outside. No bad guys." She saw Kevin and grimaced. "Damn. Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes, it does," Kevin said.