The Karate Job

“What the hell happened to you?” Dusty asked when Henry Goodman entered the apartment, bruised and battered. Emma quickly came out of the bedroom and covered her mouth with a gasp!

“Who did this to you?” she demanded. 

“Relax everyone, it was a job,” he explained, putting the gym bag down gingerly before setting himself down on the couch. Emma got a bag of frozen peas and placed it over the bruise under his eye. He winced at the icy coldness and shock of pain.

“I warned you those jobs for that mafioso were going to get increasingly dangerous. At first, you’re just delivering a package to some guy, no questions asked. Then, before you know it, they give you a handgun to shoot some crony from a rival family.” Dusty knelt in front of him, looking very serious. “Answer me honestly, Hank. Did you kill anyone? I have family in the Dominican who will hide you until this all blows over.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “No, Dusty, I didn’t kill anyone. I haven’t heard from Mr. Gilbert since the wedding. None of his big-pocket associates are calling me for jobs either, so I’ve been taking whatever I could get. Emm, could you put the ice on my shoulder and massage it a little bit?”

Emma felt the shoulder and shouted, “Oh my god, Henry! I think your shoulder’s been dislocated. We need to take you to the hospital.”      

…

A woman in her mid-thirties, lab coat, and stethoscope walked into the room reading a chart on a clipboard. “Hello Mr. Goodman. I’m Dr. Chang, your physician for the evening. The x-rays do show a dislocation of the shoulder, so we will have to put that back in the socket. You’ll have to wear a sling for a week until it heals. We will get some pain meds for the procedure and an anti-inflammatory for the week as needed. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds great,” the three of them answered in unison. Dr. Chang chuckled when she noticed the other two in the room with him. “Sorry, they’re my roommates,” Hank explained bashfully. 

“Do you mind telling me what caused the injury?” the doctor asked. 

“Finally,” Dusty added. “And chop, chop, I have a raid in less than an hour.”

“Well, it all started earlier this week when I was in line at the department of education office. Work has been really slow, so I figured I’d put my degree to good use and apply to renew substitute teaching credentials. The line was huge, as always, and the receptionist was hella rude and not very helpful with filling out the form.” 

“Bullet points, Hank. She has other patients to see!”

“Dusty!” Emma reprimanded.

“Okay, fine. I got a call from this guy who was opening a karate dojo and needed an assistant to shoot a commercial. I told him I didn’t have any karate experience, but he said it was fine. ‘I’ll provide the gi, just show up in black activewear,’ he instructed. I figured it would be an easy four hundred bucks to roll around a mat and demonstrate some maneuvers. The cab dropped me off at a janky storefront in Spanish Harlem. The sensei was a middle-aged Puerto Rican guy with a bad smoker cough and thick accent. 

‘You the Goodman guy?’ he asked, opening the door with the other hand holding a phone high up to his ear. 

So I told him that I was. 

‘Come on in, I’m sensei Rodrigo.’ Then he proceeded to yell aggressively in Spanish at his phone. I recognized some of the swear words from the names kids called me in school; but whenever he addressed me, his tone was cool. ‘Go ahead and put that on in the back. I’ll be off the phone in a second.’ Sensei Rodrigo handed me a plain white costume gi. The room was a small rectangle. One side was a wall of mirrors, and the other side was unpainted drywall. There was a large round emblem in the middle of the wall of a tiger and the name, Tiger Claw Karate, in bold letters. I walked across the blue padded flooring until I heard, ‘AYE! NO SHOES ON THE MAT!’ 

After removing my shoes, I dressed in the small storage room containing a mop sink, a rack of martial arts weapons, and boxes crowded the already cramped space. The hanging light bulb suddenly popped, leaving me to change in the dark. Then I tried to turn the knob and realized I had locked myself in. There was no way to unlock it from the inside. I called out for the sensei in a progressively louder voice, trying not to have a claustrophobic panic attack. Hoping not to humiliate myself any further, I looked for something, in the dark mind you, to pick the lock with.”

“Did you find anything?” Dusty asked.

“Of course not, it was dark. It didn’t help that the guy went from one phone call to another. The second one was in Spanglish and deeply personal. I don’t know if he forgot I was there, but it sounded like he was arguing with his wife about wasting their savings on opening the dojo. Apparently, she couldn’t find the camera he just bought to shoot the commercial. It was about a twenty-minute conversation before he finally realized I was nowhere to be found. ‘Harry!’ he called out. 

‘I’m in here!’ I responded, knocking on the storage room door. 

‘Why’d you lock yourself in there?’

‘I didn’t do it on purpose! Why does it only lock from the outside?’

‘It’s a storage room, who’s going to stay in there to unlock it?’ 

‘Nevermind. How are we going to shoot the commercial without your camera?’ I asked, hoping to just go home out of sheer embarrassment. 

‘No problem. You have a phone?’ 

‘Yes.’ Before I knew it, we had stacked enough boxes to hold the phone at eye level. The phone was propped up by a cup and would fall over several times throughout the filming session. 

“Hold on a sec,” Emma interrupted. “You recorded the commercial on your phone?”

I nodded, reluctantly. 

“Let’s see it!” Dusty demanded. Even Dr. Chong leaned in to watch the video on the phone. 

“Is it recording? Okay you stand back here, behind me.” Sensei Rodrigo cleared his throat. “Hello and welcome to Tiger Claw Karate Dojo. I’m Sensei Rodrigo, and I’m going to show you how to use karate to kick someone’s ass.” In the video, Hank’s eyes grew wide. He positioned Hank in a fighting stance, opposite himself and announced, “This is how you takedown someone who is challenging you to a fight.” Without warning the short middle-aged Puerto Rican tackled him viciously to the ground. 

“OOOH!” They all leaned back before leaning in to watch the next clip. The phone fell over after the tackle, so they had to reset the camera. 

“Are you alright?” Sensei asked Henry.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he forced out, though the air had been knocked out of him.

In the next video, Sensei Rodrigo demonstrated how to knock weapons out of someone’s hand. Hank held a knife, a pole, a wooden gun, and brass knuckles. In each scenario, the dojo master did a spinning kick to disarm Hank, then threw him onto the ground from his right arm. 

“This is how to do a leg sweep to knock your opponent on his ass.” Instinctively, Henry jumped over the leg sweep, but the sensei caught him with a second one in the opposite direction. He landed flat on his back. It was then he realized the mats weren’t all that thick. There was about an inch between his body and the cement floor. 

“Good grief, Splinter. Why would you let someone do this to you?” Emma asked. 

“It’s four hundred bucks,” Henry and Dusty answered in unity. 

“As your doctor, I advise you never to take part in anything like this again. Four hundred bucks or not. This is not healthy. Is it even legal?” she asked. 

Hank just shrugged and played the last clip. “For the final clip, I’m going to demonstrate my full karate capabilities against my assistant.” 

“Wait, What?!” Henry was shocked. 

“Okay, Harry, try to hit me and don’t let me hit you.” 

“I did not agree to this,” immediately a barrage of punches and kicks were being thrown against him. Hank used every move he’d learned by watching Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee, alas they proved futile. Before long, Sensei broke through his defenses and struck him with a three-combo punch to the body and face. He then swung Hank over his body with an Uchi Mata judo takedown. 

“Oof! That’s what did it,” Dr. Chang decided. 

“Hey, but you held your own pretty well there, Splinter,” added Emma. 

“Or do you mean Master Splinter?” Dusty bowed mockingly.

“You guys are…an interesting batch of roommates. I’m going to grab the nurse to assist me with setting your shoulder. I’ll be back.” 

Dusty waited until she was out of the room to say, “I think I’m going to ask her out.”

“Who?” Hank asked obliviously. 

“Dr. Chang, dude. She’s a fine sip of tea and medicinal tea too.” He made a slurping sound. 

“Dusty…” Emma thought about what she was going to say and decided against it, “let me know what she says. Splinter, I’ve seen enough people breaking your body, I’m going to get a coffee. Do you want anything?” 

Hank shook his head, so Emma went out into the hallway to find the coffee machine. One of the nurses directed her down one floor and around the corner. Her watch chimed on her wrist. It was Charlie, her ex. Why does he keep calling? She wondered. What could he possibly have to say after what he did? She stood at the coffee machine, but the options were flavored lattes or cappuccinos. Emma didn’t want anything sweet, just black coffee or an Americano. Stretching her neck to peer down the hall, she recognized someone familiar down the corridor, crying. 

The closer Emma walked toward her it became clear, “Maya?” 

“Emma,” it was a young Indian woman, wet with tears. “Did you come to see my brother?”

“What’s wrong with Raj?”

“He was attacked in his apartment, beaten within an inch of his life. Whoever it was, stole all of his computers,” Maya blew her nose into a wadded tissue. “Who would do this to my brother?”

Emma looked through the small rectangular window on the door and saw Raj in the bed. An arm and leg were in casts. She couldn’t help but feel like she had done this to him by asking him to help them. Maya had no idea about any of that. Maybe, Dusty is right about the danger they are in by getting mixed up with someone like Mr. Gilbert. “Is…uh…is he going to be, okay?”

“The doctors say he will recover, given time.”

“Poor Raj.”

“Emma, if you’re not here for Raj, what are you doing at the hospital? Are you well?” she asked. 

“Me, I’m fine. I am actually here for another friend who also got beat up, but he kinda deserved it. Speaking of which, I better go check on him. I just came down to grab coffee.”

“The coffee here is terrible. Go down to the second-floor cafeteria for a decent cup of coffee.” 

“Oh, thank God. I’ll come back to see Raj when he wakes up. Let’s grab lunch soon, Maya. It was good to see you, despite the circumstances.” 

“I’ll tell my brother you came by. It will bring joy to his heart.”

…

Emma returned to the room with her second-floor cafeteria coffee and told her roommates about her run-in with Maya. “This is one of those occasions where I hate to say I told you so, but I tried to warn you,” Dusty folded his arms across his chest and stood facing the window. “Henry, you are in deep. You accepted his money and now you’ve pissed him off. Emma you’re in this too because he’s seen your face. Now he probably knows who I am and will come after me to get to you.”

“Bad guys only go after people I love, Dusty.” Henry said, trying to lighten the mood. “But all kidding aside, we don’t know if this is Mr. Gilbert’s doing, or some shady hacker stuff Raj might be into on the dark web. It could even be the cops for all we know.” 

“I don’t know, Henry. I’ve known Raj for a long time. He is a sweet guy. I don’t think he’d ever get into something like that.” Emma protested. 

“Didn’t a cop kidnap and interrogate you after the wedding?” Dusty asked. 

…

It had been over a month since the man in the trench coat had flashed his badge and said, “Henry Goodman, I’m going to need you to come with me.”  

“Who are you?”

“My name is Burke. I’m an agent with the FBI. We need to talk somewhere private.” 

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, but I can get a warrant out for your arrest and have you thrown in jail. Or you can come with me for a drive and talk off the record.” Agent Burke held up his hands as if to signal he was unarmed.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then why am I here?” 

“You tell me,” Hank felt like he was playing the smooth maverick character he performed in front of Mrs. Alden. Agent Burke was just as cool when he held the passenger door open and extended an inviting hand. 

In the car, Burke didn’t say much. Henry tried to make small talk, but the agent shushed him and turned the radio to oldies music at high volume. He stopped to buy two hot dogs at a random cart, and we pulled into an industrial park that looked like an old airport for small planes. The gate was locked and the car finally pulled into an empty hangar. The only thing there was a table and two chairs with some paper on top. He handed Henry the two hot dogs and motioned him to the table. Agent Burke popped the trunk open and pulled out two bottles, a coke and an orange Fanta. Hank’s mouth was watering by the time Burke handed him the bottle. 

“We know all about you, Henry Goodman, your favorite drink, you lost your job, your roommates. What we don’t know about is your connection to Gilbert Ruben Giordano?” Agent Burke asked the question, then took a big bite of the hot dog.

“There isn’t any. He hired me to do a job for him and that’s it.” 

“We know all about that: breaking and entering, destruction of property, and assault.”

“Assault? I didn’t do anything to anybody. The kid came running after me and the dog got to him.”

“Tell me about the job you did for the Aldens. They’re known associates of Mr. Gilbert.” 

“Same thing, they hired me to do a job. That’s all I did.” 

“And what is it exactly that you do, Mr. Goodman? What skills do you possess that makes you a regular employee of Gilbert and company.” 

“Whatever they pay me to do,” Henry said matter-of-factly but quickly realized how incriminating that sounded. “Well, technically whatever I’m willing to do for pay, but it’s never anything illegal or unethical.”

“What about breaking into someone’s home? Assaulting an officer? That bartender your friend kicked the hell out of was an undercover cop.” 

“I didn’t know that, but I’m sworn to secrecy about the jobs I do. People pay me to do things they are too embarrassed or afraid to do themselves. I do jobs nobody else is willing to do because I’m desperate for money and they’re desperate to get that thing done.”

“Even kill somebody, deliver drugs, or drive the getaway car?” 

“No, never. Nothing like that.” 

“Then WHAT exactly did you do?”

“I CAN’T SAY!”

“Why can’t you say it if it's not illegal? I could force it out of you in court with a subpoena!”

“I can get in trouble for telling you even this much, but Mr. Gilbert swore me to secrecy because the job he hired me to do was embarrassing, not illegal. He didn’t ask me to break into a house. I did that on my own because I didn’t think anyone was home. The Alden’s hired me to help their marriage out. That is all I can say. If you take me to court for any more details, you’ll just embarrass the justice department.”

Agent Burke glared at him silently for a long minute before asking. “What about the list?”

“What list?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about.” 

“I don’t know anything about a list, and I don’t want to know, so keep me out of it. I’m just a simple guy trying to start a simple business to make ends meet.” 

“Listen kid, you’re either smarter than you look or dumber than you think. I’m gonna take some time to figure out which one. If Giordano contacts you again, let me know. By the way, this conversation is over once we set foot inside that car, understood? Don’t leave the country.” 

…

“Why didn’t you tell him about the list?” Dusty asked. “That was your way out, give the police what they wanted and get the mafia off your back.” 

“They don’t know for sure that we know what is on that list. They clearly don’t want to take me to court now because they don’t have anything solid.” 

“But what if Mr. Gilbert knows about the list, Henry?” Emma sounded concerned for the first time. “Whoever attacked Raj, stole his computer. What if they found something there?” 

“Maybe I should apologize to Mr. Gilbert about the wedding and get back on his good side. The devil that I know is better than the devil that I don’t, right? How do I know if I can trust Agent Burke? What if he is a dirty cop?” 

“He’s sure to know the cops have been speaking to you. What are you gonna tell him when he asks about that?” Dusty interrogated. 

“The truth. I don’t know anything, and no one asked me to do anything illegal.” 

“That’s a half truth, which is a whole lie,” replied Dusty. “My mom used to tell me that.” 

“I’m in over my head. I’m on the outs with Mr. Gilbert and with the cops. I didn’t want to be involved with either of them.  I think I’m just going to wait until one of them comes knocking at my door.” 

“Knock, Knock,” they all turned to find Mr. Gilbert standing at the door with a bouquet of flowers.