The Hanshi of Central Park
by Stephen F Kaufman
I will be uploading much of this adult novel, chapter by chapter. When your appetite has been whetted, you can buy the complete book, autographed, DIRECTLY from me at hanshi.com. Previous chapters have already been posted. Continuing on, here are chapters 7 and 8.
Ballners looked at the hole in his hand and thought about how Jesus Christ must have felt. Laying on the ground screaming in pain, tears streamed down his face while blood poured from him like a stuck pig. He tried to hold his guts in with his good hand as two medics were bent over him doing whatever they were supposed to be doing.
He had fallen into the bottom of the pond at the edge of the falls and lay there crumpled up, cold, wet and scared. The medics were having a hard time getting him to dry land while working on him at the same time.
“What happened to my backup,” he kept muttering sounding like he was raving.
Martine was pretty much off the planet and would be for the next seven weeks. The Hanshi had struck with precision.
Rizzuto was standing around waiting to be queried by the investigating team about what had happened. He was stoic about it all and felt he had done what was required to put him in line for a promotion. “We should be able to get gold shields for this,” he said, speaking to Ginzburg who was laughing and crying at the same time, carrying on about the insanity of mortal combat and then about his relationship to society as a defender of the people. He was out of control. Other cops were telling him to shut the fuck up as a medic tried to give him a shot to calm him down.
Fred was semi-conscious laying face down with cuffs on. An EMS attendant was applying a bandage to his head while another cop looked on.
Everybody was trying to figure out where the other body had come from. Photographers and reporters had suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and were shooting pictures all around the scene. Everyone was yelling and screaming to each other.
Victor Chu sat in a little corner where no one could see him. He opened a bottle, took a deep draught and lay down to go to sleep. The excitement was over. The sun went behind a cloud as rain began to fall.
The Hanshi’s philosophy was based on 60 years of living and more than 45 years of practice. He knew why he had become a “man of title” based on the events in his life and could follow the reasoning for it. Why it was his karma was another story, one that he did not presume to know by any rhyme or reason. He was well aware of philosophical concepts and their attributes and knew about the frivolities of intellect. He was astute in most matters that he came to understand, at the age of twelve, when he realized that Elvis meant nothing to him but Dizzy did.
He had his own values, his own rules and certainly, his own opinions. As in music, which he felt was integral to all life but he didn’t appreciate those who could play jazz compared to those who were jazz players. The same thinking applied to every discipline he was involved with, aesthetic and commercial and he didn’t think of money as a sign of ability, much to Sharon’s chagrin.
Waiting in the cave for things to calm down he pondered his actions as to whether or not he had properly executed the sai and kick attack. Not the results of the action, but the manner in which they were executed. Although he felt he could have executed with more precision, the outcome was correct for the situation. He had maintained control and would not suffer personal humility, or for that matter would he have any difficulty in his pursuance of higher consciousness based on those specific actions.
The people close to him considered him easy to get along with and someone who could be depended on in a negotiation. The simplicity that he extolled through his thoughts and actions caused those not close to him to think he was strange. He only considered himself to be different. The events that had just occurred did not disturb him nor did the madness of the situation. The only thing that was curious to him was that he was involved with it in the first place. But then again, as the Hanshi knew only so well, “shit happens.”
He put philosophy out of his mind and thought about the most logical and pragmatic way to get out of the park and to prepare for the aftermath of the event. He was not naive to think that he could just walk out and tell the first cop he met what had happened. He had gotten mixed up in what had to be some kind of police action and cops had gotten hurt. And when cops got hurt in the line of duty the first reaction by other cops would probably be emotional and they might not be too stable so soon after an event. Better to wait awhile and see what was going on.
He heard what had to be a cop’s voice above the rock line of the cave by the questions being asked of people that may have seen something. Most were passerby’s that knew nothing and others had the cheering squad mentality, not caring what had happened as long as some cops got hurt. The Hanshi listened and observed the remarkable variations of stupidity that came to his ears. Black voices entertained the most when they speculated; with curiosity that it was a white guy with swords.
“Maybe it was a real live ninja.”
“Maybe it was a front guy for the bad guys.”
“Maybe it was a mugger.”
“It was probably a cop who didn’t know there were other cops there.”
He examined his sai and cleaned them in a puddle of brackish water making sure they were clean. After putting them in the black leather carrying case he continued to wait knowing he would emerge at the right time. He needed to maintain control of the situation and escape. Interesting that Geoff should have split earlier than usual. Ah, sweet karma of life! He was glad he didn’t have Thatcher with him.