Wong slowed down, his mind no doubt struggling to sort it all through. Whatever planning he had done had probably gone on the assumption that he would spot me surreptitiously, not that we would suddenly spot each other. His body was responding to his unconscious wish for more time, for a few more precious seconds to decide what to do.
I decided faster. It wasn't even a decision as such, more a reflex honed by a lifetime of killing. A reflex that had been delayed by my unaccustomed emotional state, but that now, as I recognized the threat to Midori and my child, snapped ferociously into place.
I went straight for him. As I closed the distance, his right hand moved to his coat pocket, probably where he kept the Balisong he was reputed to carry.
There's value to favoring a certain weapon and to practicing with it regularly. But there's a potential downside, too: you can come to rely on it, and to try to reach for it, when you would have been better off doing something else. This is why cops are often killed by knifers with their guns half out of their holsters. The cop sees the knife coming, but is so dependent on his pistol that he fails to recognize he's not going to have time to deploy it before he's already being stabbed. If someone has the jump on you, the better tactic is to create distance or otherwise slow down the attack and then access your favored weapon so that you'll actually have a chance to use it. Otherwise, the gun in your holster might as well have been in a safe back home.
But apparently Wong didn't know all that. He reached for the Balisong, and while he was reaching for it, I reached him.
I stepped in and blasted him across the front and right side of the neck with my right forearm, in the same instant catching his right bicep with my left hand. The neck shot might shock his brachial plexus and interrupt the functioning of his right arm. The bicep grab was backup.
Wong grunted and straightened from the impact. I nailed him again with my forearm, and some of the rigidity flowed out of his body. Continuing to move in so I was facing him from his right side, I pushed his arm higher with the bicep grip and slipped my right hand to the back of his neck to arrest his backward movement. Then I yanked his head down and slammed my knee into his face. His head bounced and I kneed him in the face again. And again.
I felt his body go slack. I kicked his feet out from under him and swept him to his back. He hit the pavement hard. I raised my foot and stomped his exposed throat. His body jerked but he was already out and probably never even felt the blow that killed him.
The whole encounter had lasted less than ten seconds. I glanced around, fully tactical again. I heard footsteps coming from beyond the same corner Wong had rounded moments earlier, and coiled to kill again. But there was no need. It was Dox. I was so ready to go off on him that my body twitched from the effort of holding back.
He pulled up short at the sight of me standing over Wong's prone form. 'Holy shit,' he said.
I glanced around again. The street was deserted. A building opposite us was being renovated, and there was a dumpster in front of it.
'Give me a hand,' I said. 'Get him into that dumpster.'
'The dumpster? Why…'
'Goddamnit, just do it!'
Without another word, Dox grabbed one of Wong's wrists and hauled him up off his back. He stooped and swept the body up into a fireman's carry, then strode with it over to the dumpster. I went with him.
In front of the dumpster, I reached into Wong's right jacket pocket. I felt something cold and smooth inside and pulled it out. Sure enough, it was a Balisong, with what looked like titanium handles.
'That what he was carrying?' Dox asked.
'Yeah,' I said, dropping the knife into my pocket. 'Let's get him in there.'
The top of the dumpster was about six feet up and mostly in shadow, thank God. The two of us managed to get Wong's shoulders up to the lip, then shoved him until his torso tipped inside. We lowered him by his ankles until he was hanging upside down with only the backs of his knees against the top, and then let go. He slid down and hit whatever debris was at the bottom with a low thud.
I looked around again. Still all quiet.
'Let's go,' I said. 'At this hour, I doubt anyone saw or heard anything. But I want to be sure. I'll come back in a little while.'
We started walking. 'Come back for what?' he asked.
'I can't leave the body here. It's too close to Midori's apartment, they'll know what happened.'
'Well, how are you going to move it?'
'I need to borrow your car.'
'I was afraid you were going to say that.'
'He's not bleeding much,' I said. 'I didn't stab him. I'll put something down under him, it'll be okay.'
'Yeah, but where are you going to…'
'I'll punch holes in him and sink him in the Hudson. But I need a way to get him there.'
We turned onto Sixth Avenue and were suddenly amid lights and people. The street felt normal. It was calming.
'What were you doing there, anyway?' I asked as we walked.
'The way you got off the phone, partner, I had a bad feeling. You just didn't seem like you were being your old careful self.'
