ofthe Phil Holland, Frank Hodgson group." He looked at Nadine. "Whywasn't I told? Am I a junior member or something, that I can't betrusted?"
Armstrong snorted. "You should study up on revolutionary routine, Joe.The smaller the unit of organization, the better. The fewer membersyou know, the fewer you can betray. Here in the Sov-world, back beforethe Sovs came to power, the size of their cells was five members, sothe most any one person could betray was four."
The tic started at the side of Joe's mouth.
Armstrong said hurriedly. "Don't misunderstand. Your fortitude isn'tbeing questioned. Bravery no longer enters into it. There are methodstoday under which nobody could hold up." He seemed to come to a suddendecision. "We can't let this take place. You'll have to back down,Mauser. Somehow, there's been a leak and your real purpose in being inBudapest is known. Very well, Phil Holland and the others will simplyhave to send someone else to replace you."
But Joe had had enough by now. "Look," he said. "Everybody seems tothink I can't take care of myself with this foppish molly and hisfancy swordsmanship. I've had fifteen years of combat."
"Joe!" Nadine said, "don't be silly. The man's a professionalassassin. This is his field, not yours."
Joe said flatly, "On the other hand. I have a job to do and it doesn'tinvolve being run out of Budapest."
General Armstrong said, "Dash it, don't go drivel-happy on us, Mauser.I've just told you, the man's the best swordsman in Europe and Asiacombined, and the third best shot."
"How is he with Bowie knives?" Joe said.
XIX
To Mauser's surprise, the Sovs actually turned up two genuine Bowieknives. He had expected the duel, actually, to have to be conductedwith trench knives or some other alternative. But the Sovs, ever greaton museums, had located one of the weapons of the American Old West ina Prague exhibit of the American frontier, the other in Budapestitself in an extensive collection of fighting knives, down through theages, in a military museum.
Formally correct, Lieutenant colonel Bela Kossuth appeared at JoeMauser's apartment three days before the duel, a case in his hands.Max, in his role as batman, conducted him to Joe, doing little to keephis scowl of dislike for the Hungarian from his face. Max was gettingfed up with the airs of Sov officers; caste lines were over here, ifanything, more strictly drawn than at home.
Joe came to his feet on recognizing his visitor and answered theother's bow. "Colonel Kossuth," he said.
Bela Kossuth clicked heels. He held the case before him, opened it.Two heavy fighting knives lay within. Joe looked at them, then intothe other's face.
Kossuth said, "Frankly, major, your somewhat unorthodox selection ofweapons has been confusing. However, we have located two Bowie knives.Since it is assumed that the two gentlemen opponents are notthoroughly familiar with, ah, Bowie knives, it has been suggested thateach be given his blade at this time."
Joe got it now. Sandor Rakoczi hadn't become the most celebratedduelist in the Sov-world by making such mistakes as underrating hisopponents. The weapon was new to him. He wanted the opportunity topractice with it. It was all right with Joe.
Kossuth clicked his heels again. "Our selection, unfortunately, islimited to two weapons. Since you are the challenged, Captain Rakocziinsists you take first choice."
Joe shrugged and took up first one, then the other. It had been sometime since he had held one of the famous frontier weapons in hishands. When still a sergeant in the Category Military, he had oncebecome close companions with an old pro whose specialty was teachinghand-to-hand combat. Over a period of years, he and Joe had beencomrades, going from one fracas to another as a team. He had taughtJoe considerable, including the belief that of all blade hand weaponsever devised, the knife invented by Jim Bowie, whose frontier careerended at the Alamo, was the most efficient.
Joe ran his eyes over the blades carefully. On the back of one wasstamped, _James Black, Washington, Arkansas_. Joe had found what hewas looking for, however, he pretended to examine the other knife aswell, ignoring the Sheffield, England stamp of manufacture.
The Bowie knife: Blade, eleven inches long by an inch and a half wide,the heel three eighths of an inch thick at the back. The point at theexact center of the width of the blade, which curved to the pointconvexly from the edge, and from the back concavely, both curves beingas sharp as the edge itself. The crossguard was of heavy brass, ratherthan steel and a further backing of brass along the heel, up to theextent where the curve toward the point began. Brass, which is softerthan steel, and could catch an opponent's blade, rather than allowingit to slip off and away.
Joe balanced the weapon he had selected, and shrugged. "This one willdo," he said.
Kossuth clicked the case with the remaining knife shut. He could seeno difference between the two. The selection of weapons had been aformality.
Max saw him to the door and returned to the living room. He saidworriedly, "Major, sir, you sure you're checked out on that thing?I've been asking around, like, and they put these duels on Telly here,just like we got fracases back home. This here Captain Rakoczi's gotone whopper of a reputation. He's quick as a snake. Kinda like afreak. He can move faster than most people."
"So they've been telling me," Joe mused, balancing the frontier weaponin his hand. It had a beautiful balance, this knife so big that itcould be used as a hatchet or machete.
* * * * *
He was still contemplating the vicious looking blade when Nadineentered. He smiled up at her, put the knife aside on the table, andcame to his feet.
She looked at Max, and the little man turned and left the room.
Nadine said, "Joe, a plane is leaving this afternoon. A West-worldplane for London."
Joe looked at her speculatively. "I won't be on it."
"Joe, listen. A year ago you were an individual, trying to fight yourway up to Upper caste. You weren't able to make it as an individual,Joe. But now you're a member of an organization, pledged to a highideal. Joe, the organization doesn't need martyrs at this stage. Itdoes need good, competent, highly trained members such as JoeMauser."
He said nothing.
Nadine stepped suddenly closer to him. Her perfume, he noted, vaguely,was new, some sweet scent found here in the Sov world, undoubtedly. Ithad a heady quality, or was that merely the close presence of Nadineherself?
She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to herlevel. He had never realized that Nadine Haer was this much shorterthen he. She pressed the softness of her lips to his.
Then she held back a foot or two, and said into his face, desperatelyserious, "Does this make any difference, Joe?"
He licked the edges of his lips, carefully, "It makes a great deal ofdifference." His voice was thick. His arms came up behind her.
"Then you'll be on the plane?"
He shook his head.
She wrenched herself suddenly free and stood back from him,infuriated. He had never seen anyone so infuriated.
He said, "Look, darling. If I had backed out of this, the way youwant, you think you'd be happy. But you wouldn't. You want a man, nota coward."
"I want a _live_ man! Not a dead hero."
He shook his head stubbornly. "You mentioned the organization. Allright, they sent us to do a job here. They can't move in theWest-world until they know where the Sov-world stands. They can'tafford an attack, a sudden heating up of the Frigid Fracas, right inthe middle of the confusion of a socio-economic change. They've got toknow how the Sov-world stands, what it will do. They've got to knowabout this so-called underground, and the religious revival stuff outthere in Siberia."
"You've been discovered," she said hotly. "They can send somebodyelse."
He was still stubborn. "No. There's a leak. If they send somebodyelse, the same thing will happen. And the next man might not be asmuch of a potential opponent to such as Sandor Rakoczi as even I am.If I run now, the West loses prestige, and the movement sponsored byHolland and Hodgson and the rest of us, loses prestige, too. Somewherei
n Budapest, is some kind of a group that is watching us. We don'tknow who, or where, or what they stand for, but we can't afford tolose prestige with them."
"We're not exactly going to gain it, when and if this officialassassin kills you." She looked down at the wicked knife, andshuddered. "Oh, Joe, your mercenary career is over. Miraculously, youstayed alive for fifteen years through it all. From the Rank Privateall the way up to Rank Major. Now at long last, you're an Upper.You're not going to throw it all away, now."
He could say nothing.
She stamped a foot in uncharacteristic fury. "You silly clod. Supposeyou do win? Don't you see?