Part 2 – Kenny Sullivan

  Chapter Twelve – A special delivery.

  Along with the beard, sunglasses, a long coat, and a baseball cap, he wore gloves. They were black leather. This was only important because they matched the huge revolver in his right hand. It was a Colt Peacemaker with a seven-and-a-half-inch barrel. The opening at the end of the barrel seemed to be a cavernous cave. The opening itself would normally be enough to bring fear to most men. It was black with wood hand grips, and the man wielded it like a club.

  Kenny instantly got the impression that this man did not belong in this place or time. He watched as the man moved with awareness and purpose. He understood the man had stepped in to assist him, but he felt a darkness in the man. The stranger was here only because it suited him. Kenny understood that at this moment he was mostly inconsequential. Kenny would remember this. It may be important later. He unbuttoned another button.

  The double doors to the restaurant rattled behind him. They came free and began to open. Was someone coming, or was someone going? With a quick glance, Kenny saw the thug scurrying through the door. Kenny hoped that this would improve his odds. He was keenly aware that Jerome was waiting on the other side of those doors. This left the bodyguard, the prostitute, and the stranger. And he didn't forget about Benny.

  All Kenny could do was watch. It was a series of blows. They were directed, purposeful, powerful, and fierce. The end of the barrel was used to strike first. It was like a sword thrust. The bodyguard was struck on his jaw right by his ear. The force moved his head several inches. He winced and closed his eyes. The next strike arched down from above his head. It was swift. The bodyguard had no chance to change his facial expressions from the first strike. The bones in his wrist and forearm cracked as they were crushed from the downward blow. The knife shot down to the side. It bounced and tapped its way across the alleyway. Luckily, the knife was now out of reach of everyone involved. The third strike was to the back of his attacker's neck. Kenny was not sure if it was the weight of the gun or the force the man commanded, but the man who had attacked him folded. He crumpled to the ground. He lay there in a simi-conscious lump of flesh.

  Kenny unbuttoned his coat. His hand rested on the butt of his pistol.

  Suddenly, the stranger moved.

  Startled, Kenny gripped the pistol handle.

  Quickly, the stranger stepped past Kenny. Kenny watched. It was all he could do. The stranger's right hand thrust forward. He struck the woman in the midsection. The pistol was gripped like a club, but the impact was with his fist. The strike was quick and decisive. Still, it didn't hold the force of the previous strikes. The force somehow seemed metered and appropriate.

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  Kenny released the pressure on the butt of his pistol. He didn't move his hand.

  An audible gasp was heard as her breath left her. Her long thin knife dropped to the ground. Aimlessly, she took three steps backward. Her eyes blinked wildly. Once again tears began to flow from her eyes. The black lines on her face from her makeup became prominent once again. She appeared to be moving in slow motion as she flopped to the ground, not so lightly. She landed on her backside. She sniffled. A pout came on her face. She looked up at the bearded man. She said, “You didn't have to hit me. I wasn't gonna do nothing.”

  The bearded man picked up the knife with his left hand. He said to the woman, “Sure. Now get up.” His voice was not loud, but it was forceful.

  In disobedience, the woman folded her arms across her chest. She drew in a deep breath through her nose. Then she lifted her chin in defiance.

  Kenny thought. Really, he just knocked your buddy out and put you on your butt. What do you think you can do?

  The bearded man shook his head slightly. He looked directly at the woman. He said one word. “Now!”

  She jumped up immediately. Her defiance slipped away. Only her frailty remained.

  Still holding the pistol, He pointed at the wall. The spot was on the other side of Kenny. It was a few feet from the groggy man on the ground. “Hands on the Wall. Spread your legs. If you say any cute hooker stuff, I'll split your skull. You get It? Stand there and be quiet. And you won't get hurt.”

  Benny came around the corner. “Hey? Kenny, what's going on?”

  The bearded man gripped the pistol like it was a pistol. He moved over to the bodyguard. Energetically he kicked the man between the legs.

  Kenny moved to Intervene.

  The bearded man turned to Kenny and said, “Give me a minute. I won't hurt him, much.”

  Kenny nodded as Benny began to speak. Kenny waved to Benny to wait.

  The bearded stranger stepped on the man's good hand. He held it to the ground. He cocked the big pistol and placed the barrel of the Colt 45 against the man's temple. Then he spoke slowly and clearly. “You worked with a tall white-haired man named Murphy. You won't do that anymore. If you do, I'll find you and I'll kill you. Do you understand?”

  Nervously, the broken lump of flesh replied, “Yeah, man. Yeah, yeah, yeah, man. I won't do that - no more. No more.” The man's voice trailed off. He bobbed his head. Internally, he was begging for the pain to stop. He wasn’t thinking about what the man said.

  The bearded man looked at Kenny. “I really don't think he learned anything today. I didn't really expect he would. He has a choice now. And you have an open door that the police could look right in." He put the giant pistol back under his coat.

  Kenny gestured then stated, “The plain view doctrine? They did leave the door open.”

  The bearded man said, “Plus, a room full of stolen goods and a fence hiding in there. Don’t forget the item behind the double doors. It'll be here shortly.”

  Kenny Sullivan replied, “Wait? What Item?”

  Kenny was answered, “A special delivery.”