I stomped down on my attacker’s instep; he yowled and grabbed me tighter. Then I got snatched from behind. One large hand tugged at the back of my jacket. A blanket of dread spread over me. I was a PI sandwich.

There was a lot of heavy breathing, mine and theirs, and the sound of three pairs of frenzied feet scuffling across uneven asphalt. If there was anything else taking place on the street, I did not notice it. Nothing but hands, bulk, and menace made it through the surreal bubble of assault in progress. My fight for position and escape ended in a sudden explosion of pain as I kneed Mr. Gloves in the kneecap and was conked from behind by something incompatible with the fragility of human bone and flesh.

Starbursts exploded behind my eyes and for a couple seconds they were all I could see. I slumped like a rag doll as strange hands grabbed me up, keeping me upright, twisting me around. Through the haze of near unconsciousness, I knew I was being moved, shoved. Backward or forward I couldn’t tell, until I slammed hard against brick and got my bearings. I was pinned against the building. A throbbing white heat radiated from the back of my head and down the length of my spine.

“You’ve been sticking your nose where it don’t belong,” the man who hit me whispered into my left ear, his rancid breath warm on my neck. Despite his closeness, his voice sounded as if it were coming from Cleveland. I had to strain to hear it.

“Yeah, and we don’t like it,” Mr. Gloves added, his voice even farther away. Pittsburgh? Rochester?

Everything started to go dark. Who turned the lights out? I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. My head felt like Dumbo was sitting on it.

“Hey, hold her up. She’s passing out,” one of the voices said. “Hurry up. Make it quick.”

“Where is it?” Gloves hissed. “Yo, check the bag.”

A pair of hands let me loose, and my knees buckled. A hand slapped my right cheek twice, rousing me enough to get a second wind. Unfortunately, I acquired no common sense with the wind. I began to fight back.

“Get off me, you pieces of shit!” I shrieked. I punched and kicked, aiming for noses, eye sockets, Adam’s apples, sternums, kidneys, kneecaps, but it was like boxing a granite wall. I got nothing for my effort but a head shove to the bricks. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut to steady the dancing lights. Another goose egg on top of the one already forming. Wunnerful.

“You got to give it to her,” one of the men said. “She’s got guts, but that’s just what the man don’t want. I found it. Let’s go.”