Chapter 23 Part 4

For Sal, though, the camouflage was not so important. As an expert deceiver, he had learned to spot falsity. Often it was something very subtle that gave a thing away. A light reflection that was too perfect--an edge that was too crisp. When your life depended on noticing these small details, one could become ver talented in seeing them.

As Sal took in the details of the scene, he could feel sets of eyes on him. He hadn't brought anything in technologically oriented other than his pocket knife, but the people here could tell he had something to do with technology by his appearance. It wasn't long before someone was bold enough to approach him.

A tall man wearing a virtual panoply of gadgetry jingled toward Sal. He was a man of slight build, but something in the way he moved Sal recognized as potentially predatory. Sal knew how to handle guys like these. It was imperative to stand his ground without looking the slightest bit alarmed. It was better to stare such a man directly in the face that it was to avert one's gaze.

When the man got close enough, he looked Sal up and down.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he asked in a less than sincere way.

"What we have here is none of your damn business," replied Sal with his jaw set.

"Oh, we've got ourselves a dandy do we? You think you can just stroll into town and come into our side without giving us something for our trouble of keeping the streets clean?" the man asked with a sneer of his mouth.

"All I see in these streets is trash. You, buddy, are just one more piece. I intend to go on up this road, and if necessary I'll clean the streets for you and you can owe me instead."

"Hah hah hahhhhhhh. A spunky dandy. You look awful fancy, kid, but you don't act like you came from fancy. In fact, I'd guess that wherever it is that you came from, it isn't much different than here."

"You want me to fucking chit chat with you now? Get the hell out of my way." Sal started to take some steps toward the man. Sal noticed the man's hand drop down. Instinct told him he better get ready for some kind of attack. When the man pulled his hand back into sight, Sal noticed that he had made a fist and his knuckles were white. Either he intended to hit Sal with whatever was in his hand, or else he intended to use what was in his hand on Sal. Sal didn't like either option.

"Now, Now," said the man. "Just because you have spunk doesn't give you the right to be rude. You have to pay toll just the same as everyone else."

Sal let his hand casually brush against the pocket where he kept his knife.

"And you think you are going to make me, do you?" inquired Sal. At the same time he asked the question, Sal took one hand and produced the knife from his pocket, crouched and with his other hand grabbed some dirt and flung it in the face of the man. Almost as fluidly, as though he were in some kind of warped ballet, he moved his weight forward with the momentum of the throw of dirt and unlatched the blade which he held and applied it to the staggering man's throat.