The Lion

Boris shouted, "No!" He raised both hands, then slowly lowered his left hand and pulled back his jacket, revealing his gun and holster on his belt.

Khalil nodded.

Boris grasped the gun butt with his thumb and index finger and pulled the gun out of his holster, then slid it across the rug toward Khalil.

Khalil stepped forward and retrieved the gun, which he saw was a Browning automatic. He removed the magazine and threw it across the room, then moved to the dining table and dropped the gun into the glass bowl heaped with black caviar.

He said to Boris, "I would take your word that you have no other gun-but perhaps you can show me."

Boris nodded and pulled up his trouser legs to show he had no ankle holster, then he turned his pockets inside out. He slowly removed his jacket and turned completely around and faced Khalil again.

Khalil said to him, "I am surprised you have not taken your own advice about a second gun."

Boris replied, "Even if I had a second gun, I would prefer to cut your throat."

Khalil smiled and said, "That is also my preference for you."

Khalil drew the two Colt.45s from his belt, removed the magazines, and stuck both guns in the champagne bucket. Then he removed the magazine from his own gun, put it in his pocket, and laid the Glock on a table napkin. He then drew a short, heavy hunting knife from his belt and flung it to the floor where it stuck in the carpet.

He looked at Boris and asked, "Are you ready?"

Boris did not reply, but he took off his tie, shoes, and socks, then wrapped his jacket around his left arm.

Khalil smiled approvingly and did the same.

Both men stood about fifteen feet apart and stared at each other, the knives stuck in the floor a few feet in front of them.

For the first time since Khalil walked into the room, Boris believed he had a chance to kill this man. He knew that Khalil could have a second gun, but it didn't matter-he would prefer a bullet to losing this fight.

They stood watching each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

Boris made the first move, ru

Khalil dove forward, grabbed his knife and rolled to the right, then sprang up and went into a crouched defensive position with his wrapped arm in front of him and his legs spread wide.

Boris stopped short, wheeled around, and came at Khalil.

Khalil held his position, and Boris feinted left and right, stepped in, then stepped back, then in again. He remembered Khalil's strengths and his weaknesses, and Khalil's major weakness was too much aggression, and too much impatience, which led him to an impulsive and ill-timed attack. But now, Boris saw, Khalil had apparently learned when to defend and when to attack.

Boris decided on another strategy and he backed away, putting nearly twenty feet between them.

Khalil came out of his defensive position and strode directly at Boris, who held his ground and was surprised to see Khalil stop.

Boris was begi

Boris took the offensive again and moved in, causing Khalil to move back. Then the two men silently circled each other in the middle of the large room.

Boris watched Khalil's movements. He knew that the Libyan was more agile and in far better shape than he was, but Boris had more bulk and believed he was still physically stronger than Khalil.

Khalil again dropped into a half crouch, with his legs spread and his coat-wrapped arm in a horizontal position-a defensive position that Boris did not think was called for with ten feet still separating them. Khalil, Boris thought, had misread his movements, or he was becoming anxious, which made Boris more confident.

Boris moved in quickly-a feint that he hoped would cause Khalil to backpedal and lose his defensive posture. But instead, Khalil unexpectedly charged forward and met Boris's forward movement as Boris was in mid-stride.

Khalil came in low under Boris's knife hand and under his wrapped arm and delivered an upward thrust that caught Boris below his left rib cage.

Boris let out a startled cry of pain, then pivoted away from the probing knife and delivered a high kick to Khalil's lowered head.

Neither man pressed the attack and both of them retreated to a safe distance.

Khalil nodded and said, "Very good."

Boris cautiously felt his wound and determined that it was a narrow puncture wound, perhaps deep, but not bleeding profusely, and not mortal.

Khalil watched the blood forming on Boris's white shirt and came to the same conclusion, saying, "You won't die from that."

Boris also determined that he wasn't going to win this fight-he was already out of breath, and the wound would bleed more quickly with further exertions and eventually weaken him.

Also, Boris admitted, Khalil was the better knife fighter-Khalil remembered the skills, but more importantly he remembered the tricks, and had learned some new ones. Boris also knew that Khalil possessed the will and the courage to face a man with a knife, and Boris was not sure that he himself possessed that will any longer.

Out of desperation, Boris said to Khalil, "It is over. You have won."

Khalil laughed. "Yes? Are you dead already? May I go now?"

"Asad-"

Khalil said, "There is another man who is going to die in this way tonight-so I had hoped you would be good practice for me. But now I see you are a poor opponent-too old, too slow, and too frightened."

Boris did not reply. He tried to think of another way out of this, and thought of the door. If he could work his way closer to the door… he began circling so that Khalil would circle too, and not be between him and the door.

But Khalil kept his position and said, "If you wish to run out of the room, I have no objections. But I must tell you, all you will find out there is a locked elevator and a locked staircase door. But perhaps you prefer a smaller room for this fight." He smiled and said, "I don't care where I slaughter you."

Boris took a deep breath and said, "You have made your point." He lowered his knife and said, "I have done nothing to you. I have taught you-"

"Shut up." Khalil took a few steps toward Boris, and as Boris moved back, Khalil said, "We have not finished this lesson. Do you not want to show me how you will disarm me and throw me against the wall as you did once? Do you think I have forgotten your knee in my testicles? Or perhaps the great Russian assassin has dirtied his pants, and he wishes me to leave to spare me the smell."

Boris felt the anger rising in him again, and he pulled the jacket from around his arm and snapped it at Khalil as he moved forward with his knife extended in his right hand.

Khalil stepped back and lost his footing on the loose area rug, then fell to the floor, losing his knife.

Boris charged him, and realized too late he'd again been drawn into a ruse, as Khalil raised his legs and caught Boris in the abdomen and hurled him into the air, headfirst into a china cabinet, which shattered in a loud crash.

Khalil snatched up his knife, jumped quickly to his feet, and watched as Boris pulled himself away from the cabinet.

Boris stood unsteadily, his face bleeding from glass cuts and his eyes blinded with blood. He had lost his knife, and he wiped his eyes with his hands as Khalil moved in for the kill.

Boris, his back to the shattered china cabinet, sidestepped along the wall, and Khalil followed him, then realized what Boris was doing.

Boris seized a floor lamp with both hands and swung the heavy base at Khalil's head.

Khalil ducked, and Boris missed, but then Boris pivoted in the direction of his swing and came around again with the base of the lamp now lower, and he caught Khalil's outstretched arm in a glancing blow that knocked the knife from Khalil's hand.