"Because I'm thorough and careful. Don't argue."
"What are these others?"
"This is a skinning knife." It was a relatively flat, wide blade with a thin spine, and very delicate compared to the fighting knives. "It's specialized for skinning an animal. This," the next blade was curved, thick, and shaped nothing like any of the others, "is a hunting knife. Filleting knives," he held up yet another, "are similar to skinners and completely useless for our purpose. Now, this odd-shaped little jewel is a Ghurka."
It was a strange, zig-zag shape, with an ornate hilt
"This," he drew a crescent-moon sword blade, "is called a scimitar. You'll learn to use them, but the chances of your running across them are fairly slim because of relatively limited geographical distribution. Now, this Tanto," he drew a blade shaped something like an Exact-O knife, "was designed to penetrate enamel-style armor in the Orient. It has the same tip shape as some Asian fishing knives. Again, limited usefulness as a fighting knife, but we'll work with it because you may run across one if you end up in the Western Pacific Rim. Japanese samurai swords and halberds had the same blade shape, just longer and heavier. Now, last but not least is this little jewel."
The final knife was a T -handled thing like a corkscrew, but the blade was shaped exactly like the spear-point dagger-except that the whole blade was only three inches long and the inch closest to the handle was little more than a dull-edged, narrow rectangular bar.
"What's that thing?" Margo laughed
"A push dagger. Far too many instructors ignore them. That's stupid. The push dagger," he demonstrated the hold, with the T-handle clenched in the fist and the short blade extending beyond the knuckles, "is a very deadly weapon. It's next to impossible to dislodge it from your hand You can slash," he demonstrated rapidly, "or stab with a simple punch, or," he opened his hand, seized her wrist, and without letting go of the knife, said, "you can grab an opponent without cutting them. The push dagger gives you some nice options."
Margo widened her eyes and stare at her wrist. "Good God."
Sven Bailey grinned wickedly and let her go. "Yeah. Isn't it great"
Margo laughed. "I'm just thinking what a karate punch would be like with that thing in your fist."
"Exactly You," he pointed with the tip of the push dagger, "will learn to use this very well. It's particularly suited to women who don't have much experience with fighting-but then, that won't apply to you, will it?"
Margo chuckled ruefully. "Not by the time you're done with me."
"Right. Now, as to the tactics of knife fighting, forget everything you've ever seen in any movie. Stupid doesn't begin to cover it. Movie knife fighting-like movie
"Knife-fighting or fist-fighting-will get you killed . Knife fights are dirty, dangerous affairs carried on by people who want to cut your guts open and spill them in the mud. Literally. Unless you're very careful and very good, you'll bleed to death within seconds of losing a knife fight. The idea," he smiled grimly, "is to avoid fighting in the first place. But if you can't, you make damn sure it's the bastard who attacks you who bleeds to death, not you. Knife fighting is, encounter for encounter, far deadlier than any gunfight. If a bad guy shoots you, chances are extremely good you'll live through it.
"What? Are you pulling my leg?" Margo demanded, thinking of a lifetime's worth of newspaper, magazine, and television news articles.
"Unless it's a sawed-off shotgun at close range, or the shot hits a vital organ, chances are you'll live given relatively decent medical care. But if you're cut up in a knife fight, shock and blood loss will kill you quick. And I mean quick. In seconds, if you're hit in the right places. One good slash," he traced a finger across her lower arm, "will sever muscles to the bone, cut arteries, veins, may even fracture bone itself. If you're hit across the femoral, the jugular, or the carotids, you're dead. Period. Same with abdominal or chest wounds, most times. You'll bleed out or die of shock before you can get help."
Margo swallowed. "Wonderful. What happens if some guy jumps me by surprise?"
Sven held her regard steadily "Easy. You never let anyone jump you by surprise."
He wasn't kidding.
"Pay attention to your surroundings constantly. What's potentially hiding in the shadows of that bush? Behind that tree, around that corner, in that doorway? Is the man behind me just strolling along for a walk or following me? What about the guy lounging around on the steps up ahead? Pay attention. Somebody takes you by surprise, you've already lost. Remember that exercise I had you practice before you went tripping off to London. Notice everyone else before they notice you."
Margo flashed back to the attack in St. Giles. If she hadn't been watching so carefully..."All right, point taken."
"Your homework on alertness is simple but effective. You've tried it once, for a day. Now we get serious about it. For the next week, keep track of everyone you encounter. Strangers, people you know, people who know you. As before, keep a count of how many times they notice you before you notice them, and vice versa. Every time someone sees you and reacts before you do is a potentially lethal encounter you won't walk away from."
"Isn't that a little paranoid?".
Sven shook his head. "This is standard training for self-defense on urban streets, never mind military situations. Your job as scout combines features of both. Learn to notice everythin around you. Alertness is half the fight. Being prepare to act on an instant's notice is the other half. No moments of doubt, hesitation, self questioning. Go for a crippling blow whenever you can, but if it comes down to a lethal fight and you're not prepared to kill the other bastard to stay alive ...well, then, you're in the wrong job, kid."
Margo chewed her lip. Would she be able to pull a trigger? Or cut someone's throat? Martial arts was one thing, with its focus on getting the hell out with minimal damage; knifing or shooting someone was something else. Clearly, she had some soul searching to do.
"Problems?" Sven asked quietly.
That question deserved an honest answer. "Maybe. I don't know. I survived St. Giles, but it shook me up. I need to do some heavy thinking tonight."
Sven nodded "Good That's critical. Unless you're prepared to use deadly force, and I mean prepared here," he tapped her head, "and here," he tapped her chest, "you won't use it when the flag drops on a lethal encounter. You'll be the one carried home. Think it out. Meanwhile, you might as well start learning technique."
Kit finished up at the Neo Edo's office and checked his watch. Time for Margo's next firearms lesson. After the hair-raising conversation he'd shared with Malcolm, Kit intended to watch every single one of Margo's shooting lessons. He slipped on a pair of shoes at the door and headed out to the Commons, then stopped at a little "open-air" stand for a quick lunch.
"Hi, Kit," Keiko smiled. "What'll it be?"
He pored over the selection of soups, sniffed the yakitori appreciatively, and glanced over at the large fish tank where customers could make their sushi choices-live fish being the best way to ensure freshness in a setting like a time terminal. The tank was five feet deep and eight feet long, filled with salt water and swimming sushi delicacies.
"That young yellowtail," Kit pointed to the fish he wanted, "looks good."
"Hai!"
Keiko turned to pick up the net-and shrieked
A leather-winged shape zipped past, skimmed the top of the tank, then flapped off with Kit's lunch. Japanese didn't precisely have the same corrosive vocabulary available to English speakers, but Keiko had no shortage of colorful curses to heap on the heads of fish thieves and other assorted miscreants.
"They eat all my profits!" she stormed, shaking a fist at the pterodactyl. It had perched in the girders high overhead, busily gulping the profit in question.