Persuader

coat on the Cadillac's hood and slid down the shiny paint and ended up on the road in a crumpled heap. I was cold. The wind was blowing and my shirt was thin. I could hear Elizabeth breathing behind me, fast and shallow. Richard was just standing there, five feet from Paulie, waiting for his next instruction.
    "Now you and your mom walk fifty paces," Paulie said to him. "Back toward the house." Richard turned and walked back and passed by me again. I heard his mother get in step with him. Heard them walk away together. I turned my head and saw them stop about forty yards back and turn around and face front again. Paulie tracked backward toward the gate, one pace, two, three. He stopped five feet from it. His back was to it. He had me fifteen feet in front of him and I guessed he could see Richard and Elizabeth over my shoulder, maybe a hundred feet farther on in the distance. We were all in a perfect straight line on the driveway, Paulie near the gate and facing the house, Richard and Elizabeth halfway to the house and facing back at him, me in the middle, trying to stay alive to see what the next minute would bring, facing Paulie, looking him square in the eye.
    He smiled.
    "OK," he said. "Now watch carefully." He stayed facing me the whole time. He maintained eye contact. He crouched down and placed both guns on the blacktop by his feet and then flipped them backward toward the base of the gate. I heard their steel frames scraping on the rough surface. Saw them come to rest a yard behind him. Saw his hands come back, empty. He stood up again and showed me his palms.
    "No guns," he said. "I'm going to beat you to death."

CHAPTER 12
    I could still hear the Cadillac. I could hear its lumpy V-8 whisper and the faint liquid burble from its tailpipes. I could hear drive belts turning slowly under the hood. I could hear the muffler ticking as it adjusted to a new temperature.
    "Rules," Paulie called. "You get past me, you get the guns." I said nothing.
    "You get to them, you can use them," he called.
    I said nothing. He kept smiling.
    "You understand?" he called.
    I nodded. Watched his eyes.
    "OK," he said. "I won't touch the guns unless you run away. You do that, I'll pick them up and shoot you in the back. That's fair, right? You got to stand and fight now." I said nothing.
    "Like a man," he called.
    Still I said nothing. I was cold. No coat, no jacket.
    "Like an officer and a gentleman," he said.
    I watched his eyes.
    "We clear on the rules?" he said.
    I said nothing. The wind was on my back.
    "We clear on the rules?" he said again.
    "Crystal," I said.
    "You going to run?" he said.
    I said nothing.
    "I think you will," he said. "Because you're a pussy." I didn't react.
    "Officer pussy," he said. "Rear-echelon whore. Coward." I just stood there. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
    And I doubted he knew any words I hadn't heard a hundred thousand times before.
    Military cops are never very popular. I tuned his voice out. Watched his eyes and his hands and his feet instead. Thought hard. I knew a lot about him. None of it was good. He was big and he was crazy and he was fast.
    "Damn ATF spy," he called.
    Not exactly, I thought.
    "Here I come," he called.
    He didn't move. I didn't, either. I just stood my ground. He was full of meth and steroids.
    His eyes were blazing.
    "Coming to get you," he sang.
    He didn't move. He was heavy. Heavy, and strong. Very strong. If he hit me, I would go down. And if I went down, I would never get up again. I watched him. He came up on the balls of his feet. Moved, fast. Feinted left, and stopped. I stood still. Held my ground.
    Watched him. Thought hard. He was heavier than nature intended, maybe by a hundred or a hundred and fifty pounds. Maybe by more. So he was fast, but he wouldn't be fast forever.
    I took a breath.
    "Elizabeth tells me you can't get it up," I said.
    He stared in at me. I could still hear the Cadillac. I could still hear the waves. They were crashing in, way behind the house.
    "Big guy," I said. "But not big everywhere." No reaction.
    "I bet my left-hand pinkie is bigger," I said.
    I held it out, halfway curled into my palm.
    "And stiffer," I said.
    His face darkened. He seemed to swell up. He exploded at me. Just launched himself forward with his right arm scything around in a giant roundhouse strike. I sidestepped his body and ducked under his arm and bounced up again and spun around. He stopped short on stiff legs and whipped back