<P>One of them he had knocked unconscious. The rest followed him in pursuit. Gordon was unsure if he had lost them or not, and had not gotten the chance to count their numbers.
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<P>Gordon stood still. From his current view point he could only make out a couple of Hong Kong police officers standing against a brightly-lit poster decoratively covering the wall of one building.
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<P>He heard a boat glide by in the waters beneath him, but could not see it. Carefully, he stepped out onto the pavement, and glanced over the rail with one hand closed around it. The small fishing vessel had stopped at a lesser wooden pier on the water below. Its worn owner clambered up onto the dock, and it rocked slowly beneath his weight. He reached back into his sanpan and from it fabricated a bundle of meats. Stuffing them beneath one arm, the soiled man disappeared into an alcove, and through a thick metal door.
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<P>Gordon resolved that he had lost his pursuers, and drew his hand away from his concealed weapon. With one palm he rubbed the beading sweat from his shaven head, and began to walk vigilantly along the road.
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<P>He had not let his guard down when the knife spun, cut cleanly through the air, intended for his head. He leaned backwards. It brushed past his body and struck the wall with a clatter, then fell. Their second ambush attempt had met similar failure.
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<P>Gordon heard patting footsteps behind him. Drawing his gun and spinning around with an extended leg at the same time, his foot immediately met the attacker's neck. The attacker stumbled stupidly, momentarily stunned. Gordon seized this opportunity to execute a series of hits  A combination of kicks  And a final jab that sent the attacker tumbling down into the water.
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<P>Gordon saw three others. Two were on one side of the canal. One of them had been the knife thrower. The other sported a sidearm.
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<P>The third approached from the same direction the first had come. He brandished a shotgun, and aimed in Gordon's direction.