No Business of Mine

“Strike a match, Ted,” Joe growled, bending over me, “and let’s ’ave a look at ’im.”

I tensed my muscles, waited.

The feeble flickering light from the match lit up Joe’s broad, broken features. He looked like an all-in wrestler. He had the kind of puss you dream about after a lobster supper. He knelt beside me, took hold of my chin between fingers that felt like iron. I didn’t dare wait any longer. Whipping back my knees and twisting sideways, I jack-knifed into him with my feet, catching him in the middle of his chest. It was like kicking a brick wall.

With a roar of rage and surprise, he shot over backwards.

I squirmed around, got up on my hands and knees.

One of the other massive shapes came at me. He leapt high into the air and descended feet first-the old, spectacular all-in wrestling pounce that looks so easy but isn’t. I had a split second to get out of the way. I managed it, swung a wild punch at the man’s head as he thudded into the soft soil a half a foot away from me. The guy’s skull was made of stone, and I felt a jar run up my arm as my fist connected.

I was on my feet now. The third man had arrived with a crouching rush. He caught me on the shoulder with a half-arm swing that sent me spinning backwards. I steadied up, ducked a haymaker that started from his ankles, socked him in the left eye with everything I had.

I didn’t wait to see the effect, but turned on my heel and scrammed across the thick grass.

The common was as flat as a plate, seemed to stretch for miles. Apart from bushes and an occasional tree there was no cover, nowhere to hide. It looked as if my only chance of escape was to run and keep running. I dug my elbows into my sides, tore across the grass, hoped I was in better condition than the other three.

Wild yells and oaths followed me, then silence. I ran on until I heard the car start up, then looked over my shoulder.

They weren’t going to run after me. They preferred the easy way.

They were coming after me by car.

Although the grass was thick, it was quite possible to drive a car over it. I knew in less than a couple of minutes they’d be all over me.

I slowed down, but kept moving. I didn’t want to be breathless when they did catch up with me, but I wasn’t anxious to come to grips with them any sooner than I could help. My future didn’t look too good. Maybe they wouldn’t kill me, but they’d do the next best thing. I thought of Bradley, waiting for these thugs to tell him what they had done to me, and I cursed him.

The car was only a few yards off now. Joe and Ted were hanging on, standing on the running-boards. As soon as they got within reach of me, they jumped off, and closed in on me.

I dodged Joe, ran in the opposite direction. Ted came rushing after me. I slowed, let him come up, then dropped on hands and knees. His knees cannoned into my side and he went head first into the grass. Before Joe got within reach I was off again, but this time Bert had manoeuvred the car so I was sandwiched between the car and Joe,

I wheeled around, waited for Joe who came at me, cursing and waving his arms. I ducked under them, straightened, caught him a clout on the end of his nose which sent him reeling back.

But I couldn’t keep this dodging up forever. They would catch me in the end, and by that time I’d be so winded I’d be at their mercy. A big tree a few yards away decided me. I swerved past Bert who came lumbering up, ran across to the tree, set my shoulders against it, waited for them.

I had time to look around the expanse of ground. There was not a house or building to be seen, nor could I see any car lights to indicate a main road. The spot was as bleak and as lonely as a Welsh mountain.

The three men sorted themselves out, came forward, stopped before me.

As I surveyed them I thought the dying gladiator was a happy man beside me. I lifted my fists to show them they weren’t going to have it all their own way, waited.

Bert and Ted stood to my right and left. Joe was in the centre.

“Now, chum,” Joe said, drawing near, “we’re gonna bash you, and then you’re getting outa this country, see? If you don’t, we’ll collect you again and bash you some more, see? Arid we’ll go on bashing you until you do go, see?”

“I get the idea,” I said, watching them closely. “But don’t blame me if you guys get hurt. I don’t usually fight with guys below my weight and strength. It’s against my principles.”

Joe roared with laughter. “That’s a ’ot ’un,” he said. “We know ’ow to take care of ourselves, matey. It’s you who’re going to get ’urt.”

I had an uneasy feeling that he wasn’t going to be far wrong. “Go on, paste ’im, Joe,” Ted urged. “When you’re through wid ’im I’ll ’ave a go.”

“There won’t be much left of ’im by the time I’m through,” Joe said, doubling his fists.

“I ain’t particular,” Ted said. “Just so long as you leave me something to work on.”

Joe slouched forward, his bullet head low, his thick lips drawn off his teeth. He looked as attractive as a gorilla, twice as dangerous.