He had a graceful gait to his walk that late evening along Market Street and into the Broad Street Station. He had not a care in the world, 23 years old, in love with Billy and making his debut at Carnegie Hall with a performance of the Schubert F minor Fantaisie. Brian walked into the train station, bound for Pennsylvania Station, Manhattan, New York City. Even Brian's brightclothes broadcast a happy-go-lucky, not-a-care-in-the-world man to the world.
Two men had other plans for him that evening. They telegraphed their choice to each other. The one started to walk in the same direction as Brian, toward the tracks, from the front. He slowed his gait until Brian reached six feet behind him. The other positioned himself after this, walking in the same direction and also approaching, but with Brian six feet ahead. The man in front turned around and flashed a serrated kitchen knife in front of him.
"Give me what you've got."
Brian turned to run but the man behind assaulted him, pulled his arms behind him, turned him around to face the man in front. He frisked Brian, tore his green overcoat, ripping the seams of his pockets, pulling his wallet out.
"Only fifteen cents. The chintz has no money."
The man behind kneed Brian in the lower back. The man in front kicked him in the groin, punched his face with one hand, stabbed him in the abdomen with the other. The man behind twisted his right elbow out to the right, slammed his tricep into the back of Brian's head. Brian fell to the ground. The man in front kicked him in his left ribs with all his force. The man behind did the same on the right.
Thirty-five minutes later the station's ambulence delivered Brian Larney to the Pennsylvania Hospital. Dr. Martin Limerick, the on-duty resident working the night shift that Friday evening, rinsed blood-soaked towel after blood-soaked towel. Brian gasped for breath and Martin strained to hear what he had to say.
"Billy, it's Billy I want."
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