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skid stop that sprayed gravel at her feet。 Still smiling； she turned and walked back calmly to her office。
Remo smiled to himself。 She was a rare one。 If she had tried to run； the group would have been at her like a pack of dogs。 But she waited until the leader temporarily turned off the aggression by sliding into that skid stop and then she just walked away。 She disappeared as an attack object。 Quite a performance。
Now Ratchett waddled out to the leader so rapidly he appeared to be skipping。 His hair flowed behind him and his tiny fingers tickled the air excitedly at the farthest reaches of his arms。 He whispered into the gold…ringed ear of the leader who grabbed the collar of Ratchett's velveteen shirt and began to twist； as Ratchett's face grew pink； then red。 When Ratchett managed to get a roll of bills out of his pocket； the hand loosened。 Ratchett kissed the wrist of the hand at his throat； then the leader released him and he stood like a little boy hiding his privates in a public shower。
The leader strode the sidewalk； his boots galonking on the pavement； his followers' boots adding support to the galonk； galonk； galonk toward Brewster's office。
Brewster turned to Remo。 〃Now I don't want any trouble。 Remember violence begets worse； etc。 We can just ignore the whole thing。〃
Remo went back to his chair。
〃Hey cop；〃 yelled the leader of the gang。 〃e out here。〃
Remo stage…whispered to Brewster： 〃I'm doing nothing； sitting right here。〃
〃Good。〃
〃Hey； Pelham。 You straight shit。 Get out here。〃 The leader was over six…feet…six and massive。 But the bulk was weight…lifter's bulk。 His walk was a pose。 His challenge was a pose。 Mr。 Six…Foot…Six had won most of his battles by posing menacingly。 His major weapon was fear in the hearts of the timid。
Now he nodded and a follower threw an object…yes； it was a rock； judged Remo； just before it crashed through the window and broke into the natural rhythm of Brewster's nose。 Brewster spun and gasped and shrieked and covered his nose。 Then he looked at his hands。 They were dressed in blood； flowing down his wrists into his tweed jacket。
〃Oh； no。 The bastards。 My nose。〃
Indeed； the nose was broken； a rapidly…spreading red glob that released large amounts of blood。 Broken it was； tragic it wasn't。
〃It's broken； that's all；〃 said Remo。 〃Keep your hands away from it。 Only the splinter can be dangerous。〃
〃Oh； no。 The pain。 The blood。 You're security officer。 Do something。 I order it。 I even give permission。 Do something。 Call the police。 Call a doctor。〃
〃Call the oppressive； trouble…creating counterforce？〃
〃Don't be so smartass； Pelham。 I'm bleeding。 Go out there and thrash the scum。 If you have a gun； use it。 Kill the little bastards。〃
Remo walked to the window。 The seven…man gang was growing restive。 Their next step would be to walk into Brewster's office； and that might wind up causing damage to Brewster's files and the work of the forum。 Remo would have to go out and work in front of witnesses。
〃Excuse me；〃 he told Brewster。 〃I'll only be a moment。〃
He pushed open the door to the courtyard； and stood there a minute telling himself； no matter how many months he had been at peak； he'd better not slip and kill one of these lugs。
The head lug took Remo's momentary hesitation for fear。
〃e over here； you fag bastard；〃 he called。
Remo walked up to him； gauging the distance； exactly three and one half feet away； the precise distance for the toe kick to the kneecap。
〃Did you call me； sir？〃 he said to Six…Foot…Six as the other half…dozen cyclists lined up behind their leader。 From left to right in the row； they were carrying； chains； lug wrench； knife； chain； chain and knife。
The leader posed。 He brandished his size and weight。 '
Ratchett was far down the courtyard； masturbating by rubbing his hands inside his pants pockets。 None of his colleagues noticed； their eyes were on Remo。
〃Yeah； I called you； fag。 What do you think of that？〃
〃What do I think of what； sir？〃 Remo drew his right hand closer to his side； and slightly turned it palm facing front。 The fingernails would be good for two eyeballs when the second row made its move。
〃You're a fag。 And you like to cheat people at games。〃
〃Very true； sir；〃 Rerao said。 He bent his left elbow slightly。 He must be sure the elbow would hit the nose； an inch too low and the blow could be fatal。
〃You like to cause trouble。〃
〃Very true； sir；〃 Remo said。 He extended the fingers on his left hand； then pulled his thumb back against the palm； almost like cocking a revolver。
Mister Six…Foot…Six was being confused。 〃You're a fag；〃 he insisted。
〃Well； sir；〃 Remo said。 〃I've really enjoyed our conversation； but I must be about my business。 Unless there's something else you'd like to ask me。〃
〃You're a faggot。 A fairy。 A queer。 Do you like being that？〃 Six…Foot…Six was getting desperate now。 Time to end the nonsense。
〃No； I don't like being that；〃 Remo said。 〃You know what I like？〃
〃What？〃
〃I like being called names by shitfaces like you。 Because it justifies all the painful things I'm going to do to you。 And these turds that hover around you； like flies around a pig's ass。〃
Ratchett clutched in awesome excitement at his organ。
〃I don't want to have to look at your ugly pimpled face anymore or hear that belching that you call words。 Now step forward； shit。 Step forward one inch； and I'm going to fix you so that you'll never walk again without the pain reminding you of me。 e on。 Just one inch。〃
The leader laughed。 But his followers didn't。 They waited； and their silence shouted at him； and accused him； and finally； in frustration； he stepped forward； just one inch； and then he moved himself into something very fast that seemed to plunge a knife into his kneecap； and then there was a wrench； and then the sky； and then that awful tearing； and he was staring at the sky and it became dark； then black； then nothing。
Remo worked the others rather lightly。 The right hand fingernails took care of an eyeball each on chain and knife at the right end of the line。
The elbow took care of chain at the left； and Remo was pleased when it neatly smashed the nose like a dried cracker； without slipping off toward the potentially…fatal upper lip。 The edge of his left hand cracked like a baseball bat against the forehead of lug wrench； second from the left； and he dropped in a heap。
This wouldn't do。 Five of them were down； and Remo still hadn't moved from the spot。 All that was left was knife and chain in the middle。
If Remo had raised his arms and shouted 〃boo；〃 they would have fun。 But Remo needed them。 He didn't want it to look too easy。 He backed up a step； encouraging knife and chain to charge。 He moved around between the two of them； lunging； blocking； making it all look…very hard； and then suddenly he didn't give a shit who was watching； and he busted an ear drum on each one of them。
So there they were； seven of them groaning on the gravel。 Ratchett spent； Brewster； who had e to the door； on the verge of a scream of gratitude； and Remo holding his head。 Remo was holding his head because he had collected some blood from one of the seven and he put it on his h