Alex wove in and out of the tall buildings. The streets were fairly quiet, most people were indoors getting ready for a night out. Alex cursed. Why couldn't there be people when you needed them? He had recognized the man, he had worn a black overcoat. Alex tore down another street attracting the gaze of some elderly men sitting outside a café. The man was still behind him; Alex could hear his thundering footsteps over the thundering of his own heart. He ran around another corner into a small alleyway and hurtled along it. It was a dead end. He looked round and spotted a side entrance into one of Chicago's jazz clubs. He slammed his shoulder against it, but it was locked.
Alex could hear the footsteps approaching. He plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the disk Smithers had given him. He slid part of it back to reveal the tool, then pocked the tool into the keyhole. He felt the tool snag onto all of the tumblers and heard them click into place. He rammed into the door and sighed with relief as it swung open. He ran in, shut it quickly then looked at his surroundings.
He was in a large hall, with a small stage and tables and seats surrounding it. He looked at the balcony above him, before turning around and ramming a small chair under the door handle. Then he ran up the stairs onto the top balcony and hid behind a mini bar. He had a plan . . .
The man threw his shoulder against the door, with no success. The kid had locked it or something. He swore, and rammed the door again. The top of the chair snapped and the man sighed with relief. He walked into the club. Normally it would have been full of people getting ready for the nights show. But it looked like it was closed for the night. The boy had vanished, but he couldn't have gone far because the door was locked and bolted, and the other door was behind him. He walked carefully along, weaving in and out of the tables and chairs. Alex, meanwhile, edged along the balcony at the top, until he was right above the man. Then, he dropped.
SLAM! The man's head jerked back. Alex had landed right on top of him, then forced him to the floor. He moaned angrily, then threw Alex off. Alex landed on his back, and got up, adopting the stance of readiness from his karate. The man had no experience of karate, but he was obviously streetwise. He circled Alex warily. Alex tried to look unafraid, but the atmosphere was threatening. It was dark, nobody knew he was here and if he wasn't careful, he could die.
The man charged at him, and Alex threw himself aside. He hit a chair and knocked it over and bruising his arm. He got back up, painfully. The man had crashed into a table and smashed to the floor. He had also got up, but was wheezing. He had winded himself. Alex took the space between them without hesitation, and performed the karate kick that had won him his black belt. Talking no chances, he followed it up with an elbow to the temple. The man crumpled. He was out before he even hit the floor. Alex breathed heavily, getting rid of the bloodlust he had felt. He grabbed the man's bag he had over his shoulder, and walked out of the club.