Prologue
He went to each of the old people, as they emptied their wallets and purses into his open bag. One pensioner didn’t empty his wallet, and instead, he looked at him right in the eyes, “Always the same,” he said, “during the war I used to kill a couple of punks like you before breakfast.”
“Yeah, well this ain’t the war now, old man,” he punctuated the last words by pistol whipping the pensioner, and knocking him to the ground, with blood gushing out of the wound in his head. The cabbie, had been sitting on the floor and watching the events unfold from his place. Unfortunately he’d been too far away to help the brave but perhaps foolhardy old man. The robber was holding what looked like a Luger. That was strange, he thought, how could a two-bit thief get his hands on a relic like the 9mm P08 Luger? In fact, if he needed money, all he had to do was sell the weapon which was worth thousands to collectors. He correctly figured that the weapon was stolen, and the thief didn’t know what he had. Finally, the armed man came to him and motioned for him to do the same as the others. The cabbie stood in his place slowly and eyed the robber.
“Well come on pal, I haven’t got all day!” the robber screamed at him, obviously hyped up for the task at hand, and his adrenalin heightened by this extra thievery he hadn’t planned on.
The cabbie looked him squarely in the eyes and calmly asked, “And what will you do, if I refuse?”
“I’ll blow this lady’s damn head off for a start, then you’re dead arsehole!” he screamed, while waving the gun in the Cabbie’s face.
“Well then, why didn’t you shoot the old fella there, he had you fairly pissed off!” The woman he was holding screamed again and fainted, becoming dead weight in the robber’s grasp. The patrons in the bank were starting to mumble and murmur to each other about what the cabbie was doing, tempting fate the way he was. The robber had let go of the woman, and she’d fallen to the floor, while he’d quickly repositioned the gun in the Cabbie’s face.
Yeh smartarse!” screamed the armed man, who’s the brave one now eh?”
The Cabbie, unfazed by the display of bravado by the robber, waved his hand disparagingly towards the gun, “Ahh, brave shmave, it’s a replica, nobody uses Lugers anymore.”
“No it ain’t, you won’t say that after I put a hole in your goddamn head?” he screamed again. The cabbie shook his head and pointed at the side of the weapon, “I can see the replica stamp on the side of your gun.” He said as he watched the robber closely. He saw him glance down to the pistol and that was the chance he’d waited for, his hand with extended fingers, shot forward, and quickly stabbed at the man’s Adam’s apple, and then he landed a fist square on his nose, shattering the bone. From that point on it was an easy task to take his weapon from him, and force him to the ground. The guards came rushing over at that point, and took custody of the would-be-thief, amid the applause of the patrons and staff