For Yvonne Teresa Trotman & Rita Enez Callender
Roman Doyle activated his Bluetooth earpiece as he walked towards the cashpoint machine. The tall, twenty-five-year-old black man had a lean, athletic build and cast a long shadow from the amber street lamp a few metres away. Roman knew the wisdom of observing his shadow, especially when he walked the streets of North London late at night.
Seven years ago, observance of his shadow saved him from grievous bodily harm. Roman noticed his shadow swiftly approached by another, broader and shorter. Raised high, its thick arm bore a long thin object.
The stocky criminal, equipped with a metal pipe, did not know his potential victim was an accomplished martial artist. Had he known, he would have attacked the much larger businessman who barrelled past fifteen minutes before. At merely seventy kilograms, Roman seemed an easier target.
The astounded thug found himself the recipient of a shattered nose from a gyaku zuki reverse punch, and two broken ribs from a dwet chagi spinning sidekick. The mugger sailed through the air, and seconds later, slammed onto the kerb - unconscious.