Bob and Carol and Ted and Al

As Carol switched from a steady jog to a full sprint for the final half kilometre up hill to her home she failed to notice the two men watching her from a darkened car.

"Looks orrite, Ted," said Al. Known to his friends as Big Al, although he was only of average height, he had a wiry, well-muscled body, a face that still bore the contusions of a recent brawl, and eyes that warned of habitual cruelty. It was a face that signalled trouble.

"Yeah. Let's see where she goes. She's a lot older than the last one but this bird's kept herself in shape. She'll do." Ted was a head taller than Al and if his lack of intelligence was reflected in his features nobody was likely to tell him about it; he had a reputation for violence, and when he lost his temper he didn't care who was in the way. He started the car and turned slowly to keep an eye on the woman. She had great legs and a really nice butt. He was going to enjoy this.

He pulled up and watched her enter a neat modern house. The door was opened by a man in his mid-forties, obviously her husband. She kissed him, standing back a little to keep her perspiration from wetting the business shirt he still wore.

"Bank Johnny," Ted said contemptuously. "He won't give us any trouble."

Once inside, Carol leaned against a kitchen bench, where she began a series of stretches to release the tension in her muscles. "How was the course tonight?" she asked.

"Great," said Bob, enthusiasm evident in his voice. "We started an intro to market research. I know it sounds dull but it was really interesting—especially when I started feeding in ideas about our own business. We should have that up and running by the end of the year. Market research is the key to making it work-without that, you could almost end up trying to sell refrigerators to Eskimos. You need to know what you're getting into." He turned in surprise at the sound of a loud rat-a-tat on the door knocker. "Who the hell comes calling at this time of night?" he wondered.

"Probably somebody with the wrong address," said Carol. "Would you get it while I finish stretching?"

Bob had only begun to open the door when it crashed open, striking him the face, stunning him. He fell to the floor, blood streaming from his nose, and Al kicked him in the solar plexus, leaving him gasping for air.

Alice looked up in alarm, concerned for Bob, but also noting the knives the men carried. Her voice quaked as she spoke. "Please don't hurt, me. You can have anything. Take anything you want. Just leave us alone. Please."

"Pathetic, ain't she, Al? Don't you worry about a thing, darlin'. We're not gonna hurt you. Not till later, anyway. You're just going to love what we've got for you first. Show her why we call you Big Al, good buddy."

Al grinned and fumbled with his zipper.

"No, no! Please. Bob's hurt. I need to help him."

"He'll feel better when he gets to see what a couple of real men can do with his old lady. We'll let him watch, won't we Al?"

"Hell, we'll make him watch. He might learn something."

"Please, we have money in the house. Lots of money. I'll give it all to you if you just go now."

"Now that's good to know, darlin'," said Ted. "Why don't you just go and get that money for us and we'll keep an eye on hubby till you get back. Doesn't look like the hero type to me, though. Whaddaya reckon, Al?"

"Nah mate, he's not gonna try anything with the two of us. Off you go now, sweetheart, and make sure you come back with all that lovely foldin' stuff.

As she stepped past Ted, Carol's expression changed and her eyes went flat and hard. In a movement that was almost feline, her body seemed to flow upwards in a long-practised motion as she lifted her arms high before joining her hands in a double grip. Then, with the loud ki-ya of a martial artist seeking maximum force, she slammed her elbow down and backwards, centering the whole of her sixty kilograms on Ted's spine as she attempted to drive right through it. The man screamed, his knife fell to the carpet and, his legs unable to support him, he collapsed to the floor, sobbing in agony.

Carol allowed her momentum to swing her around to face Al who gaped at Ted before angling his knife toward her. "Bitch!" he snarled. "What have you done?"

"Lover boy isn't going to walk again," she said. "You don't want to join him. Put down the knife."

Al's face registered fear but she wasn't going to take him by surprise as she had Ted. Eyes bulging he lunged toward her, the knife angling up toward her abdomen. Almost automatically Carol's forearms crossed, forming a vee, that she slammed down on his wrist. "Bad decision!" she murmured. As his thrust was stopped she changed to a two-handed grip, lifted his arm high, and stepped under the arch, jerking his hand through in a classic Irish whip. Al's feet left the floor and he cart-wheeled, smashing the overhead light as he went, before crashing to the floor, his shoulder dislocated.

Carol retained the grip on his wrist, twisting just far enough to keep him subdued. She looked across at Bob who was sitting on the floor, grinning through the blood. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"Bloody nose, lump on the forehead. I'll survive. I'm in a lot better shape than those two. Remind me never to piss you off, will you?" He reached for the telephone. "I'd offer to keep an eye on them while you phone the cops but they're more frightened of you."

She looked down at the two thugs groaning on the floor. "I've been teaching karate since you clowns were still in nappies," she said. "You really should have done your market research."