Then I twisted and used my body’s leverage to snap his right wrist. He let out a grunt of pain as the bones broke. I could hear them as well as feel them shatter under my hands. The gun dropped onto the tile floor. I kicked it hard with my left foot as if it were a soccer ball. It spun across the floor. I threw an elbow into Tharpe’s jaw and felt it break under the pressure. The big cop stayed on his feet. Incredible.

He was done. I had the upper hand, but this was the best therapy I could imagine. I wound up my right arm and balled my hand into a fist. Tharpe didn’t even know what was coming his way. Then I heard someone shout, “Police! Don’t move!”

I looked to my left and saw two uniformed Poughkeepsie cops with their service weapons drawn and pointed at me. They were both young. A blond woman, who couldn’t have stood at more than five foot one, and a lanky guy with a military haircut. His pistol clearly shook in his hand.

The security guard pointed at me and said, “That guy stopped the gunman.”

That made the cops focus their attention on Tharpe. Then I delivered my punch. It was a wild haymaker that felt like it came from across the Hudson and landed squarely on Tharpe’s nose. He stumbled back and hit the wall again. This time he fell to the ground. That’s when I gave him a good, solid kick in the ribs. He grunted and blood poured out of his shattered nose as if it were a garden hose.

The tall cop stepped forward and yelled, “Cut that shit out. Now.”

I was already in a stance to kick Tharpe again when I looked over at the cop. He could see I had nothing in my hands and I was no lethal threat. At least not to him. I winked and threw my kick anyway. Tharpe made another satisfying grunt as I felt one of his ribs crack beneath my foot.

I immediately held up both hands and stepped back, mumbling, “Sorry, Officer.”

The young patrolman dropped to his knee and started to search Tharpe. The other cop kept her gun trained on me. She had more tactical sense than her partner and didn’t step forward.

The cop cuffed Tharpe behind his back, then stood up to face me. He was holding Tharpe’s ID case with the Newburgh detective’s badge on the outside.

He said, “What the hell is this?”

“That’s something he doesn’t deserve to carry.”

Chapter 34

Chapter 34