Free 19 - The Power Cube Affair by John T. Phillifent Page B

there and then, except that he rolled with it and away from it and came up as far as one knee with the coat off and clear.
    "Lesson one," she said. "Don't be careless."
    "Thank you," he said, flexing his neck carefully.
    She came in fast then, darting out a hand. He reached past it with seeming ease and clamped on her wrist. She whirled and ducked, twisted, coming in to get his arm over her shoulder, ready to throw him away. Only it didn't happen like that. Before she could heave he had brought his arm across and under her chin, together with her wrist. Then she heaved. And grunted. And heaved again. Illya merely stood there and let her use up her strength. After a few fruitless moments of that he lifted his unused left hand, chopped her smartly in the ribs, and shook off her grip on his right hand. Then he slapped that hand smartly between her shoulder blades and sent her reeling to her knees. She was up again in a flash.
    "Care to try that again?" he asked mildly, and offered his right arm.
    She snarled, flung at his offer, grabbed, went past and around him, bringing her other arm under and around and over and clasped both hands behind his head in a classic full nelson.
    "What do you say now?" she hissed.
    "You want a speech?" He raised one hand to touch her elbow and she clamped on more pressure savagely. He sighed, shifted his feet just a fraction, then squirmed suddenly, snapping his arm down hard, smashing his elbow into her midriff powerfully. He turned to watch her double up and whoop for breath, clutching her stomach. Then he put both hands on her shoulders, pushed, and sat down hard on the stone floor. The thud brought a grunt from her. She went to rise instantly, and he sat her down again, hard. Solo winced, watched her try again and go down again, wallop! She shook the hair from her face and glared at Illya.
    "Let me get up!"
    "So that you can make an even bigger fool of yourself? All right." He stood back. She tucked long legs under, crouched, came up with a rush, her left hand flailing across in a chop at his jugular, right hand stabbing stiff fingers for his solar plexus. Her chop met his forearm and skidded harmlessly, her dig was foiled by his down cutting palm. He spun, extending a toe to sweep her feet out from under, and again she sat, this time with such force that she was momentarily stunned by the impact. Now there were tears in her eyes, but she gathered her long legs for another try.
    "Your head is almost as hard as this floor," he observed, then tensed as his alert eye caught the twinkle from a slim knife she had plucked from somewhere.
    "Damn you!" she choked, coming in. He went straight to meet her, to get inside the point, hit her hard in the ribs, grabbed the dangerous wrist and twisted. Still in the same forward impetus he jarred into her with a shoulder, snaked his free arm around and up and got a good handful of her hair. Then he bent her back over his knee.
    "Now," he said, very quietly, "drop it or I'll break your arm." She panted violently but let the blade go. Still holding her bent, he stared into her tear filled eyes.
    "You're a fool," he told her. "A dangerous fool. Some amateur has been giving you lessons."
    "A karate black belt?" she choked.
    "An amateur, just the same. At fighting. He taught you some tricks, in some gymnasium or other. He didn't teach you the most important thing of all, which is to estimate the enemy accurately. You chose me. You made your mistake right there. Napoleon is more civilized than I am."
    "Do I have to listen to this lecture?"
    "Yes, or be partly bald for the rest of your life. Which won't be a long one if you persist in giving warnings. That's a silly thing to do. In a game it's right to give warnings, to play by the rules, even to lose your temper. But not in fighting. In a game, you win or lose. In fighting, you win or you're dead." He released her and stood away. She came upright panting hugely, stretching the flimsy suit she wore. Then, quick as a