Bamboo Terror
Representatives
For Continental Europe:
BOXERBOOKS, INC., Zurich
For the British Isles:
PRENTICE-HALL INTERNATIONAL, INC., London
For Australasia:
PAUL FLESCH & CO., PTY. LTD., Melbourne
For Canada:
M. G. HURTIG, LTD., Edmonton
Published by the Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc.
of Rutland, Vermont & Tokyo, Japan
with editorial offices at
Osaki Shinagawa-ku, Tokyo 141-0032
Copyright in Japan, 1969
by Charles E. Tuttle Co., Inc.
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 69-13506
ISBN: 978-1-4629-1320-6 (ebook)
First printing, 1969
PRINTED IN JAPAN
Table of Contents
| 1 |
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Michael Hazzard, Expatriate |
THIS WAS THE last time that Michael Hazzard would ever walk down any street after dark with his mind a million miles away. Things only had to happen to him once, and he never made the same mistake twice.
He had gone about a hundred yards down the street, after leaving his office, when suddenly he was grabbed from behind and slammed into the mouth of a small alley. Before he had a chance to come back out of his day dreaming, his arms were pinned behind him, and a rough scar-faced Oriental was using his belly and rib cage for a punching bag. Hazzard let fly with his right leg, and the toe of his shoe caught 'Scarface' right where it hurt the most. Then while Scarface was doubling up like a wet noodle, Hazzard spun the one on his back around, grabbed his wrist, pushed, pulled, and snapped. The man let out a howl, and when he dropped to his knees, Hazzard gave him a face full of size 11 1/2C.
There was a grunt behind him, and Hazzard turned just in time to see Scarface come lunging off the ground. Scarface must have either been stupid, or a rank amateur at this kind of rough and tumble business. One of the basic rules of fighting for keeps like this is: never stop to think after you grab your opponent. You have to react with an instantaneous conditioned reflex in everything you do—or you are dead. Scarface's conditioned reflexes were probably limited to picking up beer glasses, because he was now pulling one of the biggest boners of his life.
He threw himself forward, grabbed the front of Hazzard's shirt with both hands, and stopped. It took Hazzard so much by surprise that he did not react too fast himself. But there he was, holding onto Hazzard's shirt front, and staring up with his mouth open in the classic expression of stupidity. Hazzard did not know what the hood was trying to prove, but he decided to give the quizzical look in the man's eyes a real fast answer, one of the oldest tricks in the book. He brought his arms up fast inside of Scarface's bent elbows, then down again behind the neck, and pulled—all in one fast, smooth motion. At the same time Hazzard bent his neck forward. Splock! . . . And he had squashed Scarface's nose all over the top of his head. Hazzard had used this method so many times that he had become an expert with it. It is guaranteed to take all
