In the Name of God. Stephen J. Gordon

the leader lifted his hand, or if it disappeared into a pocket, I’d hit him just like I’d punch a stone to break it.

      My only thought was why didn’t they just leave me alone. I wasn’t looking for them. I was going out of my way not to look for them. The Israelis wanted these kids, I didn’t.

      The evening air around us was motionless.

      I hadn’t been in a street fight for a while. Didn’t matter. First I’d take the leader, then the other three. I had my techniques picked out.

      I looked into the leader’s eyes and felt the blood move to my hands.

      “Oh man, I don’t believe this,” Jon broke in. He stepped away from us and to the side. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

      “What are you doing?” the leader spoke with a slight accent. I couldn’t place it. Eastern Europe? Russia?

      “Well, I don’t want to get blood all over my clothes. That really sucks.” Jon moved animatedly over toward the leader. “You guys are in for a treat. Well, I am anyway. You guys ought to be honored.”

      Alli looked at me nervously. She wasn’t sure what was going on. The group of boys just watched Jon.

      “Gotta tell you,” he continued, “I never thought I’d see this. I’ve heard stories about this man,” he pointed to me, “but I never thought I’d see him in action. I know he doesn’t look like much, but, man, this is going to be over in five seconds. I wish I had video. Wait, I’ve got my phone.” He pulled out his cell. “You guys don’t know who this is, do you?”

      They just looked at him blankly. The boy in back was really jumpy now. He looked like he was going to empty his bladder.

      “This is Master Gidon Aronson. You can call him ‘Sifu.’ There’s been a lot of shit in his life and he’s going to hit you with all of it. Right now. I figure at least one of you will be dead before you hit the ground. The rest of you I figure, what Sifu,” he turned to me again, “internal injuries, bleeding, ruptured things? Alli, you may want to stand over here with me. Once he gets cooking, you don’t want to be in the way.” He reached over and pulled her closer to him.

      Jon was on a roll. He leaned over to Alli. “You are about to see a master craftsman in action.” He turned back to the leader. “And if you think you’re faster than him, forget it.

      I never see it coming when he hits me and I work with him all the time.”

      Jon turned to Alli, who didn’t look too steady herself. All the blood had drained from her face. “This is going to be really good,” he said to no one in particular. Then to the leader: “So, go ahead, reach for something, or move a hand toward him. Go ahead.”

      No one moved. The only sound came from an air conditioner somewhere above us.

      I could see the pulse in the leader’s neck. It was moving fairly rapidly. I looked at the leader and...smiled.

      A full two seconds went by when the nervous boy in back spoke up, “C’mon. Let’s go.”

      “Shut up, Pavel,” the leader spat out.

      The leader continued to look at me. His cold eyes now had hatred in them. He didn’t know how to get out of the mess he had put his group in. I knew that he knew I would kill him, and he didn’t know how to extricate himself.

      I looked into his eyes and said very softly, “Go away.”

      Another moment went by.

      The boy to his right, the one with the backwards Yankees cap, tugged at his arm. “Let’s go.”

      The group began to back up. Finally, they headed back across the street to an Altima Coupe and climbed in. With the engine roaring, they defiantly tore out of the space.

      We watched as they disappeared around the corner. I looked over at Jon then at Alli. She ran over to me and wrapped her arms around my chest. Her entire body was shaking. I looked over her shoulder to Jon. “I ‘don’t look like much’?”

      “Sorry.”

      “I’ll let it go this time.”

      We stayed just like that for another minute with Alli’s arms around me, then we slowly started walking again. We passed Jon’s car and continued up the block. By the time we had gotten to the corner, Alli had unpried herself from me.

      Finally, Jon asked, “What do you suppose that was all about?”

      “I don’t know. Revenge?...If they’re connected to the guy from last night. Or maybe they just want me out of the way. Maybe they think I can identify them.”

      “Well, you can now,” Jon said.

      We turned and headed back.

      “Are you going to tell the police?” Alli asked.

      “I guess. I’ll call them after I take you home.”

      We walked to Jon’s Eclipse. He opened the door, but turned to Alli, “Are you okay?”

      She nodded.

      Jon got in, turned on the engine, and rolled down the window. “Dinner and an almost mugging. Not bad.”

      “Last night it was dinner and an almost assassination. I don’t want to think about tomorrow night.”

      Jon half-laughed, “See you tomorrow,” and pulled away from the curb.

      I turned to Alli. “Time for me to take you home.”

      “Sounds good.”

      She leaned on me again and we went back to my car. The ride to Alli’s place took ten minutes, and the entire time she held my hand. I didn’t press for conversation. Talking about what just happened would be counterproductive and I didn’t feel like filling the silence.

      I found a parking spot on Battery Avenue on Federal Hill around the corner from her door, and didn’t hesitate to pull in; there wasn’t going to be anything closer. We got out of the car and I put my hand back in hers. As we strolled to her house, the night seemed refreshingly serene. The brick sidewalk looked particularly clean beneath the street lights and there was even a little more air movement here. The neighborhood was calm. Peaceful.

      We approached her door and I let go of her hand. “Do you want to come in?” she looked into my eyes. “You probably could use a drink.”

      Alli still looked a little shaken and I didn’t want to leave her alone just yet. Besides, I could use a drink. “Sounds good. I’d love t–”

      I felt more than heard the movement behind me. I spun around, with my right hand already moving up for a block. I didn’t know what was behind me, but I wasn’t about to take a chance. A stainless steel hatchet flashed in the orange lamppost light.

      The weapon came down — that’s all I saw, that’s all I was focused on — but I caught the arm that held it just above his elbow and redirected it, mostly with its own momentum, to the side, across the attacker’s body. My movement was fluid. The man was now sideways to me and I punched him with my left fist just below the corner of his right eye. I heard his cheekbones crack. I hit him twice more. Blood spurted out of his ear. As he fell, I caught a glimpse of his face. It was the kid leader from the aborted mugging not more than thirty minutes ago.

      He was using a hatchet. That’s all that went through my mind.

      I looked up to see his three buddies now standing over him. The one with the backwards Yankees cap was closest. Next to him was the straight-haired wiry kid and then the one who had seemed really nervous. He was already backing up. The kid with the Yankees cap began to reach for something in his back pocket. Before he could bring his hand out, I kicked him just under his belt buckle where the front of his pelvis was located. He collapsed straight downward, writhing in pain. I moved toward the other two. They turned and ran.

      I went back to the leader, the kid who didn’t need crutches,