The Rosie Project (Don Tillman #1)(13)

The official was still showing no interpretable reaction, although I had almost certainly raised my voice.

‘Vastly superior tensile strength …’

To illustrate this last point, I took the lapel of the employee’s jacket in my hands. I obviously had no intention of tearing it but I was suddenly grabbed from behind by an unknown person who attempted to throw me to the ground. I automatically responded with a safe, low-impact throw to disable him without dislodging my glasses. The term ‘low impact’ applies to a martial-arts practitioner who knows how to fall. This person did not, and landed heavily.

I turned to see him – he was large and angry. In order to prevent further violence, I was forced to sit on him.

‘Get the f*ck off me. I’ll f*cking kill you,’ he said.

On that basis, it seemed illogical to grant his request. At that point another man arrived and tried to drag me off. Concerned that Thug Number One would carry out his threat, I had no choice but to disable Thug Number Two as well. No one was seriously hurt, but it was a very awkward social situation, and I could feel my mind shutting down.

Fortunately, Rosie arrived.

Jacket Man said, apparently in surprise, ‘Rosie!’

Obviously he knew her. She looked from him to me and said, ‘Professor Tillman – Don – what’s going on?’

‘You’re late,’ I said. ‘We have a social problem.’

‘You know this man?’ said Jacket Man to Rosie.

‘What do you think, I guessed his name?’ Rosie sounded belligerent and I thought this might not be the best approach. Surely we should seek to apologise and leave. I was assuming we would not now be eating in the restaurant.

A small crowd had gathered and it occurred to me that another thug might arrive, so I needed to work out a way of freeing up a hand without releasing the original two thugs. In the process one poked the other in the eye, and their anger levels increased noticeably. Jacket Man added, ‘He assaulted Jason.’

Rosie replied, ‘Right. Poor Jason. Always the victim.’ I could now see her. She was wearing a black dress without decoration, thick-soled black boots and vast amounts of silver jewellery on her arms. Her red hair was spiky like some new species of cactus. I have heard the word ‘stunning’ used to describe women, but this was the first time I had actually been stunned by one. It was not just the costume or the jewellery or any individual characteristic of Rosie herself: it was their combined effect. I was not sure if her appearance would be regarded as conventionally beautiful or even acceptable to the restaurant that had rejected my jacket. ‘Stunning’ was the perfect word for it. But what she did was even more stunning. She took her phone from her bag and pointed it at us. It flashed twice. Jacket Man moved to take it from her.

‘Don’t you f*cking think about it,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m going to have so much fun with these photos that these guys will never stand on a door again. Professor teaches bouncers a lesson.’

As Rosie was speaking, a man in a chef’s hat arrived. He spoke briefly to Jacket Man and Rosie and, on the basis that we would be permitted to leave without further harassment, Rosie asked me to release my assailants. We all got to our feet, and, in keeping with tradition, I bowed, then extended my hand to the two men, who I had concluded must be security personnel. They had only been doing what they were paid for, and had risked injury in the course of their duties. It seemed that they were not expecting the formalities, but then one of them laughed and shook my hand, and the other followed his example. It was a good resolution, but I no longer felt like eating at the restaurant.

I collected my bike and we walked into the street. I expected Rosie to be angry about the incident, but she was smiling. I asked her how she knew Jacket Man.

‘I used to work there.’

‘You selected the restaurant because you were familiar with it?’

‘You could say that. I wanted to stick it up them.’ She began to laugh. ‘Maybe not quite that much.’

I told her that her solution was brilliant.

‘I work in a bar,’ she said. ‘Not just a bar – the Marquess of Queensbury. I deal with jerks for a living.’

I pointed out that if she had arrived on schedule she could have used her social skills and the violence would have been unnecessary.

‘Glad I was late then. That was judo, right?’

‘Aikido.’ As we crossed the road, I switched my bike to my other side, between Rosie and me. ‘I’m also proficient in karate, but aikido was more appropriate.’

‘No way. It takes forever to learn that stuff, doesn’t it?’

‘I commenced at seven.’

‘How often do you train?’

‘Three times per week, except in the case of illness, public holidays and travel to overseas conferences.’

‘What got you into it?’ asked Rosie.

I pointed to my glasses.

‘Revenge of the nerds,’ she said.

‘This is the first time I’ve required it for self-defence since I was at school. It’s primarily for fitness.’ I had relaxed a little, and Rosie had provided an opportunity to slip in a question from the Wife Project questionnaire. ‘Do you exercise regularly?’

‘Depends what you call regularly.’ She laughed. ‘I’m the unfittest person on the planet.’