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I hadn’t killed anyone in almost four years. But all good things come to an end, eventually.
It didn’t matter what size, skills, or other advantages your enemy had if you didn’t give him a chance to deploy any of it.
Winning the fight itself wouldn’t mean much if you lost more afterward, legally or otherwise.
No aru taka wa, tsume o kakusu, as the Japanese saying goes. The hawk with talent hides its talons.
He frowned. “Someone made a run at y’all in Paris?” I nodded, remembering. “Paris is a bitch.”
Footsteps, coming closer. And suddenly there he was, walking up to the urinal on the far left, obeying the unspoken men’s room etiquette that you leave as much space between you and the other guy as the arrangement of urinals will allow.
He’d read his Thoreau in high school. How did it go again? Something like, What’s the point of having a conscience, if you don’t listen to it?
After all, a dog wags its tail even when it’s begging for a scrap, not only when it receives one.
Things had gotten hellishly fraught. Being part of this detachment reminded me about the old maxim for war: Easy to get into. Hard to get out of.
Sun Tsu: When strong, feign weakness. When weak, feign strength.
