Los Angeles Detective Joe Hernandez clicked the pen, closed the notepad and put it back in his coat pocket. When Marko eased close to the officer to deliver a drink, the detective shot out his left arm faster than Marko could blink. The Joe grabbed Marko?s collar and began to twist, pulling Marko towards him. Marko?s normal cobra-like responses were caught unawares by the officer’s cunning. Marko was helpless as the detectives vice-grip twisted the shirt material, tightening it across Marko?s carotid artery. The last thing Marko remembered is the acrid smell of garlic and chilies on the detective?s breath as he pulled him closer to his face. And the threat whispered between his clenched teeth, ?Don?t fuck with Zorro???.?
When Marko came to, he was in a crumpled pile behind the bar. His first sensation was that he was unable to speak. Holding his neck, Marko slowly rose from behind the bar. As he turned to search for the detective, he saw Hernandez calmly sipping a Margarita and pleasantly chatting with one of the waitresses.
Marko was no slouch in a bar fight or any form of hand-to-hand combat, but he realized that he had slipped with Hernandez. There was something more than deadly martial arts about the detective?s demeanor. Just then Hernandez turned and shot Marko a malevolent look. Marko decided to disarm any chance of open combat, he leaned casually against the back of the bar. Seeing Marko?s compliant posture, just as quickly Hernandez broke open a wide-faced grin. ?Excuse me Marko, would you mind bringing me another Margarita. I mixed the last one myself and I?m not much of a bartender.”
Marko took a cautious step in Hernandez?s direction, then seeing him return to his conversation with the waitress, Marko complied with Hernandez?s request. As he mixed the drink though, he never took his eyes of the detective.
The first rule of combat is to measure the strengths of your enemy?and the weaknesses. Marko was considering Hernandez?s weakness for women when just then; Marko spotted Bandit and Nyla coming through the kitchen entrance in the back of the bar. Bandit?s eyes met Marko?s. Immediately Bandit sensed in Marko a signal of warning. Bandit could read a great deal in most people?s expressions. It had served him well in many a dangerous situation in the past. This evening a misjudgment could prove deadly.
Bandit put his arm back against Nyla?s chest, easing silently back into the shadows. He turned and motioned to Nyla for silence with a finger to his lips. From the dark recess of the kitchen, Bandit watched silently as the drama before him played itself out.
When Marko, who occasionally shot a quick glance to the kitchen to confirm Bandit’s stealth, brought the drink to Hernandez. Joe tried to offer cash for the drink, but Marko wouldn’t take it. ?Marko, can we talk?? the detective asked.
Marko eyed him warily and didn’t respond.
?Well, for now I?ll talk, you listen.
?I own this beat. No body fucks with Zorro. Okay?? The corners of Hernandez?s? mouth turned up in the form of a smile, but it was more the humorless edge of broken glass or the sardonic, permanent ?grin? of a rattlesnake.
Marko smiled slightly confident that the next slip would be the detective’s.
