THE TWO MEN STALKING ME emerged from the shadows and then trailed me though the parking lot.
They lagged behind me about fifty feet. I slowed my pace, not that I wasn't as slow as a tree slug already to see if they would overtake me or hang back.
They hung back. Not good.
Any human at a normal pace should have passed me by now. I could feel their eyes punching holes in me, waiting for the right time to move.
Since I wasn't up for dealing with any problems, I stepped it out as best I could. With a new-and-improved plastic pelvis and hip, along with ten months of physical therapy, I should be able to hobble a little faster. No such luck. The cane and gimpy leg would only go so fast. Grandma Moses on a pogo stick could hop circles around me.
Using the rearview mirrors on the cars parked along Lake Avenue, I kept tabs on my new friends without being too obvious, a little trick I picked up when I worked undercover. No need to give them more of an advantage than they already had.
The big one, a black kid maybe twenty years old, wore a white wife-beater muscle shirt and black jean shorts. Mini-dreads jetted from his head like a frayed ball of yarn. The other kid, probably the same age, was an anemic white with a tattoo sprawled on his neck and a shaved head that glistened under the streetlights.
With each glance I caught, they feigned like they were talking to each other, but I could sense they were planning to pounce. And why not? I was an easy mark—a crippled guy negotiating the Orlando streets alone at night. One more block to go until I was at work.
Eleven months ago I would have enjoyed this game of cat and mouse. But then I would have been the cat, a big hungry one ready to swallow those thugs like the rodents they were.
I hoped they were just playing a game.
I stole a furtive glance behind me, and my tails were nowhere in sight. I stopped and shifted all the way around. Gone. Must have headed up an alley. Maybe I was just losing my mind. Hadn't been out much lately.
I used to love the Orlando nightlife, the clubs and things to do; the pulse of the city at night energized me. It had changed so much in a short amount of time. Faster, meaner, a stranger to me. Like I was living on a different planet. I had grown up here, not long after Mickey scurried in, back when Orlando was more of a cowtown. Now it's a big city plagued with big-city problems.
As I approached the corner of Lake and East Jackson, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber raced around the corner right in front of me, both out of breath. They must have sprinted down the alley behind the store to cut me off just before I reached the intersection.
This wouldn't end pretty.
“Hey, old man.” The ugly white kid checked up and down the street, like felons do when they're preparing to do something monumentally stupid.
His buddy invaded my personal space on my left. “How about some spare change?” he said with an accent, maybe Haitian.
“Don't have any change.” I eyed possible escape routes, though escape wasn't likely in my condition. And I couldn't count on anyone to help me, or even to notice, for that matter. On this corner, in a city of over two hundred thousand people, I was on my own… as usual.
“Then give up your wallet, or I bust your head like your leg is.” The black kid pressed in on me.
“Okay. Okay.” I held up my right hand while leaning more on the cane with my left. “I'll give you my wallet. Just don't hurt me.”
“Hurry up!” The white kid spit as he spoke, clenching his fists at his sides. “I ain't got all night.” He was the alpha dog of the two. If they were going to attack, he would lead. He needed to be tamed.
I reached back with my right hand, brushed past my wallet in my back pocket, and slipped my hand up into my waistband. I let go of the cane. The brass handle clanked as it bounced off the concrete, echoing around us. Huey and Dewey beaded in on it, drawing their attention down for the second I needed.
I unsnapped my Glock 9mm from its holster, then drew it to eye level,