Chapter 9 - The Alleyway Ambush
Two days after Victor Vance’s threatening phone call, I left the downtown law office late in the evening. The autumn wind was biting, carrying the sharp scent of rain and exhaust. Laura had offered to drive me home, but I insisted on walking the three blocks to my temporary apartment to clear my head.
As I turned onto Maple Street, the overhead sodium-vapor streetlamp flickered and died, plunging the narrow brick alleyway into deep shadow. My footsteps echoed sharply against the damp pavement.
Then I heard them—heavy, deliberate footsteps padding softly behind me, matching my pace.
I stopped and turned around sharply. Two masked figures stepped out from the shadows, blocking the exit of the alley. They wore black hoodies, their faces obscured by dark cloth, but the glint of steel in their hands was unmistakable.
'Mrs. Sterling sends her regards,' one of them rasped, taking a slow step forward. 'Just a reminder to sign the property transfer papers by tomorrow morning. Next time, it won't just be your arm.'
My heart hammered against my ribs, but the panic lasted only a fraction of a second. Years of listening to my father’s quiet advice flooded back: *'When cornered, look for the angle.'*
Instead of screaming or running backward, I reached into my handbag and clicked a heavy brass panic alarm while simultaneously pulling out a legal-grade pepper spray canister.
'You think Victor is the only one who prepares?' I snapped, spraying a dense, blinding stream of red pepper gel directly into the lead assailant's eyes.
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The man shrieked, dropping his knife and clutching his face as the chemical agent burned into his skin. The second assailant lunged forward, but before he could reach me, the heavy steel back door of the adjacent bistro flew open, and three kitchen staff rushed out wielding heavy cast-iron skillets and mops.
The remaining thug cursed, grabbed his blinded partner, and sprinted into the darkness as police sirens wailed in the distance.
