Win had an eerie way of seeing the world in black and white; lately, Myron had found his own gray areas blackening.
He didn't like that. He did not like the change that experience seeing the cruelty man inflicts on man was forcing upon him. He tried to hold on to his old values, but the rope was getting awfully slick. And why was he holding on, anyway? `Was it because he truly believed in these values, or because he liked himself more as a person who believed?
He didn't know anymore.
He should have brought a gim. Stupid. Still he was only following some grunge-ball. Of course, even a grunge-ball could fire a gun and kill him. But what choice did he have? Should he call the police? Well, that would appear a bit extreme based on what he had. Come back later with a firearm of some sort? By that time, Crusty could be gone along with Chad Coldren maybe.
Nope, he had to follow. He'd just be careful.
Myron was not sure what to do. He stopped the car at the end of the block and got out. The street was crowded with low-rise brick dwellings that all looked the same. At one time, this might have been a nice area, but now the neighborhood looked like a man who'd lost his job and stopped bathing. There was an overgrown, faded quality to it, like a garden that no one bothered to tend anymore.
Crusty turned down an alleyway. Myron followed.
Lots of plastic garbage bags. Lots of rusted tire escapes.
Four legs stuck out of a refrigerator box. Myron heard snoring. At the end of the alley, Crusty turned right. Myron trailed slowly. Crusty had gone into what looked like an abandoned building through a fire door. There was no knob or anything, but the door was slightly ajar. Myron reached in with his lingers and pried it open.
As soon as he crossed the musty threshold, Myron heard a primal scream. Crusty. Right in front of him.
Something swung toward Myron's face. Fast reflexes paid off. Myron managed to duck enough so that the iron bar only clipped his shoulder blade. A quick Hash of pain bolted down his arm. Myron dropped to the ground. He rolled across the cement floor and stood back up.
There were three of them now. All armed with crowbars or tire irons. All with shaved heads and tattooed swastikas. They were like sequels to the same awful movie. The Crusty Nazi was the original. Beneath the Planet of Crusty Nazi the one on his left was smiling with idiotic glee. The one on his right Escape from the Planet of Crusty Nazi looked a bit more frightened. The weak link, Myron thought.
'Changing a tire'?' Myron asked.
The Crusty Nazi slapped the tire iron against his palm for emphasis. 'Gonna flatten yours.'
Myron raised his hand in front of him with the palm facing down. He shook it back and forth and said, 'Eh.'
'Why the fuck you following me, asshole?'
'Me?' _
'Yeah, you. Why the fuck you following me?'
'Who says l'm following you?'
There was momentary confusion on Crusty's face.
Then: 'You think I'm flicking stupid or something?'
'No, I think you're Mr. Mensa.'
'Mister what?'
Beneath the Planet of Crusty Nazi said, 'He's just fucking with you, man.'
'Yeah,' Escape chimed in. 'Fucking with you.'
Crusty's wet eyes bulged out. 'Yeah? Is that what you're doing, asshole? You fucking with me, huh? Is that what you're doing? Fucking with me?'
Myron looked at him. 'Can we move on please?'
Beneath said, 'Let's fuck him up a little. Soften his ass up.'
Myron knew that three of them were probably not experienced fighters, but he also knew that three armed men beat one good man on almost any given day. They were also a bit too jittery, their eyes as glazed as morning doughnuts. They were constantly sniffing and rubbing their noses.
Two words: Coked up. Or Nose Candy. Or Toot Sweet. Take your pick.
Myron's best chance was to confuse and strike. Risky.
You wanted to piss them off, to upset their already-tipsy equilibrium. But at the same time, you wanted to control it, to know when to back off a bit. A delicate balance requiring Myron Bolitar, darling of the high wire, to perform high above the crowd without the benefit of a safety net.
Once again Crusty asked, 'Why the fuck you following me, asshole?'
'Maybe I'm just attracted to you,' Myron said.
'Even if you don't have an ass.'
Beneath started cackling. 'Oh man, oh man, let's fuck him up. Let's fuck him up good.'
Myron tried to give them the tough guy look. Some mistook this for constipation, but he was getting better at it. Practice. 'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'
'Oh no?' It was Crusty. 'Give me one good reason why we don't just fiick you up. Give me one good reason why I don't break every fucking rib in your body with this.' He raised the tire iron. In case Myron thought he was being too subtle.
+ ' 'You asked before if I thought you were stupid,' ' Myron said.
'Yeah, so?'
'So do you think I'm stupid? Do you think somebody who meant you harm would be dumb enough to follow you in here knowing what was about to go down?'
That made all three of them pause.
'I followed you,' Myron continued, 'as a test.'
'What the fuck you talking about?'
'I work for certain people. We won't mention names.' Mostly, Myron thought, because he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. 'Let's just say they are in a business you guys frequent.'
'Frequent?' More nose rubbing. Toot, sweet, toot, _
sweet. '
'Frequent,' Myron repeated. 'As in occurring or appearing quite often or at close intervals. Frequent.'
'What?'
Jesus. 'My employer,' Myron said, 'he needs someone to handle certain territory. Somebody new. Somebody who wants to make ten percent on sales and get all the free blow they can.'
Eyes went buggy.
Beneath turned to Crusty. 'You hear that, man?'
'Yeah, I hear him.'
'Shit, we don't get no commission from Eddie,' Beneath went on. 'The fucker is so small-time.' He gestured at Myron with the tire iron. 'This guy, man, look how fucking old he is. He's gotta be working for somebody with juice.'
'Got to be,' Escape added.
The Crusty One hesitated, squinted suspicion. 'How did you find out about us?'
Myron shrugged. 'Word gets around.' Shovel, shovel.
'So you was just following me for some kinda fucking test?'
'Right'
'Just came to the mall and decided to follow me?'
'Something like that.'
Crusty smiled. He looked at Escape and at Beneath.
His grip on the tire iron tightened. Uh-oh. 'Then how the fuck come you were asking about me last night, huh?
How come you want to know about a call I made?'
Uh-oh.
Crusty stepped closer, eyes aglow.
Myron raised his hand. 'The answer is simple.' They all hesitated. Myron took advantage. His foot moved like
