It heard a mighty flapping of wings, looked to see what kind of bird was making the noise, and was attacked by a red-tailed hawk. The predator sank its talons in the dove’s neck and yanked it from the pole. Flying off with the stunned creature, the hawk zoomed over the New College law school campus on Fell Street. Richard Rood looked up at the red-tailed hawk and then at his fake Rolex watch. It was ten-thirty. On a scale of one to twenty, his day was starting out at zero. He had no food in his belly. No real money in his pockets. No weed to smoke. Leaning against a chain-link fence, he collected his thoughts. Stiv Wilkins had failed to come up with the money he owed. The white boy was a poltroon. On the upside of things, Stiv was going to have to pay a harsh penalty for his transgression. Sadistic by nature, Richard looked forward to the thrill of punishing him. Maybe he’d beat Stiv into a pulp. Or put out a lit cigarette in his face. Cutting off the punk’s ears with a knife sounded divine.
