"O.K., give me a chance to think." I dropped to one knee and retrieved my MP-9, looping the sling over my shoulder. Then, as I straightened up. I recognized Charles the Red lying face-down in the street. I hooked the toe of my boot under his belly and flipped him over onto his back. He rolled like a wet sack of oatmeal but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest told me he still lived.