Unlike the sunshine of yesterday, the park lay under a cloud-filled sky. A chilling wind with the promise of a late afternoon rain had made its appearance. Jack thought the gods are looking out for us. The situation was nearly perfect. All communications were working clearly, no problem of fabric rubbing across the sensitive microphones and drowning out low-pitched voices. Anita began her stroll toward the meeting area.

She thought Jack, with the rimless glasses, fedora and dark business suit, looked enough like Yuri to fool Olsen until he was real close. The former recon Marine and Pittsburgh homicide cop was playing a star role in the world of mirrors and deceit. No tentative movements or nervous glancing around. This was really old hat to him. Just another stakeout.

The problem was nobody knew if Olsen was on the same page. Surely he would try to escape, but he would never make it. She was almost close enough to be within sure killing range. She saw no one looking like Olsen near the meeting site. Two minutes to go. Then five more before Jack would declare a no show and abort the whole operation for another time. One minute to meeting time. A few young women walked by chatting, and an older well-dressed woman was close behind them. No other walker was nearby.

Suddenly Anita keyed her radio and said, “Watch the old woman. I don’t like her walk or her handbag.”

Jack focused on the older woman and thought Anita is never wrong, but I don’t see anything. He was about to reply when the woman took a seat at the other end of the bench. Jack wasn’t sure enough the old woman was Olsen in disguise to pull his weapon from his raincoat pocket. Anita called, “Do it! It’s him!”

For the first time since sitting down, the matron with the mismatching shoes and handbag looked at Jack and saw immediately Yuri wasn’t sitting on the bench. She leapt to her feet and with surprising quickness darted through the shrubs bordering the park. Jack said, “Close in now,” as he went after Olsen. Anita had no shot because Olsen had moved so quickly and for an instant was shielded by Jack. Like Anita, Kathy entered the park as soon as she saw Olsen leap up from the bench and charge into the park.

Jack was only four steps behind him when Olsen cut sharply and darted through a clump of chest-high shrubs. Thrown off balance by Olsen’s sharp cut, Jack hit the shrubs and lost his footing in the soft damp turf. Olsen saw him go down on one knee and charged. His movements were so fast and yet so controlled, he appeared to flow across the small clearing toward Jack. Olsen was upon him in an instant, feinting with the knife he had concealed up the sleeve of his coat.

Getting his legs under him in one smooth move, Jack came up in a ready crouch. Olsen thrust with his knife. Jack, with the blinding speed and power of a trained fighter, used a basic Hapkido move he had practiced hundreds of times. With his left forearm he blocked the knife thrust up and out. With all his gathered power and forward momentum, he drove the heel of his right hand upward against Olsen’s sternum. Olsen stopped as if he had been shot and dropped hard on his back.

Jack stepped on Olsen’s hand still holding the knife, a razor sharp double-edged stiletto. Using his handkerchief he took the knife from Olsen’s hand and noticing the blood on the blade, slipped it into his coat pocket. Olsen’s knife thrust at Jack hadn’t totally missed. Jack’s left arm was stinging, and he saw his raincoat was slashed above the elbow.

Anita and Kathy arrived as Jack noticed the blood running down his arm. Kathy said, “My God! The bastard got you!”

Anita checked Olsen for a pulse. Olsen was bleeding from the mouth. Jack told her Olsen’s sternum was splintered, and he was as good as dead.

Finding no pulse, she turned to Jack and said, “Come on! We have to move,” and led the way deeper into the park. No more than 30 seconds had passed since Jack killed Olsen.

A steady stream of blood now stained his coat sleeve. Jack whipped his raincoat off and wrapped it around his arm. The vision of this well-dressed matron surging across the clearing, skirt flying, skinny knees pumping, brandishing a six-inch knife and grimacing with a demented look of hatred on her face would remain with Jack the rest of his life. Noticing Kathy’s look of concern, Jack said, “Hey, Kathy, I’m okay. The bleeding is slowing. It’s just a cut.”

“Maybe so,” Anita said, “but we have to stop the bleeding and clean you up. You can’t leave the park looking like this. I’ll put your coat in the shopping bag I used to make me look like a shopper.”

Kathy said, “I’ll go buy Jack a raincoat and sweater. I’ll stay in touch by radio. Meet you in ten minutes with the car. Watch for me! I’ll be on your side of Fifth Avenue.”

Jack said, “Anita, move a little deeper into the park. When someone spots the dead woman in the bushes, the cops will be all over this place, questioning everyone in sight. We don’t need that.”

“Okay, go. But we stay in the park until I can stop the bleeding. Give me a minute to get out of my panty hose. They’ll make an excellent pressure bandage.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan.