'Yes,' agreed Sean. Two hundred and sixty-eight pounds.
Very pretty' Funny how it comes to you on the big hands,' Horse Odour
went on. 'And especially, when you're dealing. What did you say your
profession was?'
Without looking up Sean began transferring the stacks of sovereigns to
his pockets. He was smiling a little. The end to a perfect evening,
he decided.
Satisfied that the money was secure Sean looked up at Horse Odour and
turned that smile full upon him.
'Come along then, laddie,' he said.
'It will be a pleasure.' Horse Odour shoved his chair back and stood
up.
'It will indeed,' agreed Sean.
Horse Odour led down the back-stairs into the yard, followed by Sean
and the entire clientele of the canteen. At the bottom he paused,
judging Sean's footstep on the wooden stairs behind him-then he spun
and hit, swinging his body into the punch.
Sean rolled his head, but it caught him on the temple and he went over
backwards into the crowd behind him. As he fell he saw Horse Odour
jerk back the tail of his jacket and bring out the knife. It shone
dull silver in the light from the canteen windows skinning knife,
curved, eight inches of blade.
The crowd scattered leaving Sean lying on the stairs, and Horse Odour
came in to kill him, making an ugly sound, bringing the knife arching
down from overhead, a clumsy, unprofessional blow.
Only slightly stunned, Sean followed the silver sweep of the knife with
ease and the. man's wrist slapped loudly into Sean's open left hand.
For a long moment the man lay on top of Sean, his knife-arm helpless in
Sean's grip, while Sean assessed his strength-and with regret realized
it was no match. Horse Odour was big enough, but the belly pressed
against Sean's was flabby and large, and the wrist in Sean's hands was
bony without the hard rubbery give of sinew and muscle.
Horse Odour started to struggle, trying to wrestle his knife arm free,
the sweat de wed on his face and then began to drip it had an oily,
unpleasant smell like rancid butter that blended poorly with the odour
of the horses.
Sean tightened his grip on the man's wrist, at first using only the
strength of his forearm.
'Aah! ' Horse Odour stopped struggling. Sean brought in the power of
his whole arm, so he could feel his shoulder muscles bunching and
writhing.
'Jesus Christ! ' Shrieking, as bone cracked in his wrist, Horse
Odour's fingers sprang open and the knife thumped on to the wooden
stairs.
Still holding him, Sean sat up, then came slowly to his feet.
'Leave us, friend.' Sean flung him backwards into the dust of the
yard. He was breathing easily, still feeling cold and detached as he
looked down and watched Horse Odour scrabbling to his knees, nursing
his broken wrist.
Perhaps it was the man's first movement towards flight that triggered
