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fied by the tense silence. The man stared at his empty hand in surprise. He looked up just in time for McCall's fist to connect with his chin. He staggered backward, then shook his head once. Though wobbly from the blow, he stepped forward and swung. With a move so graceful as to be choreographed into a ballet, McCall ducked the man's outstretched arm. When he arose his right elbow caught he attacker's chin with a bone-cracking smack. The man fell to the pavement, as unconscious as his companions. |
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McCall stood for a moment over the fallen bodies. His back moved up and down while he labored for a full breath. He drew air into his lungs on a long, even inhale, then blew out a slow stream before turning to face D.J. His gaze rested once on her drawn gun, then flicked up to meet her eyes. His face remained as blank as the faces of the unconscious men littering the pavement. |
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"What the hell was that?" she asked. |
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"Mawashi-geri. Then mawashi-zuki. And to finish off, kagi-zuki." |
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"In English, McCall. What have you done?" |
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"Roundhouse kick, roundhouse punch, followed by an elbow thrust." He put his heels together, arms straight at his sides, and bowed low in her direction before straightening to meet her gaze once more. "Karate," he said, putting a foreign twist to the word. He glanced down at the three bodies, and some of D.J.'s own shock was reflected upon his face. "It works." When he looked up at her again a delighted grin split his face. "Imagine that?" |
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