Jay stared at him. Where was this going?
“So Anson and his date have dinner, and while they are working on dessert, a couple of big ole country boys two tables over start getting loud. Celebrating something, and washing it down with a lot of beer. One of the guys gets up to go to the head. He leers at Anson’s date, gives her a ‘Hey, baby!’ and says something to the effect of, ‘Why don’t you drop this shrimp and join us, we’ll show you a good time!’
“The woman smiles politely and tells him no. The guy, who is a real big bruiser, muscles on his muscles, shrugs and goes off to the can.
“So Anson and his date finish, pay their check, and head for their car. But in the parking lot are the two guys who were being raucous inside.
“Anson doesn’t say anything, just goes to his vehicle and unlocks the passenger door to let his date in.
“One of the guys, the bigger one, calls out, ‘Hey, Momma, it’s not to late to join the party!’
“Anson straightens himself up to his five-seven, turns and looks at the guy, and says, ‘She said she wasn’t interested. ’
“The bruiser gives Anson a go-to-hell look. ‘Hey, Gramps, how would you like it if I came over there and stomped on you?’
“Anson just ignores him. He looks at his date and says, ‘Let’s go.’
“So the bruiser smiles, a nasty expression. He nods at the woman with Anson. ‘Yeah, that’s right old man. Run away.’
“Now Anson’s getting pretty steamed himself by now, but he keeps his head.
“Bruiser starts heading toward them now, slowly. ‘C’mon, babe,’ he says to Anson’s date. ‘You can do better than this guy.’
“Well, Anson’s had about enough of this. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘you’ve had your fun, and you’ve had your chance. The lady doesn’t want to go anywhere with you, and to tell you the truth, I’m getting pretty sick of looking at you myself, so why don’t you just go away before you get hurt.’
“Now maybe Anson shouldn’t have said that. Insulting a guy like this is about as effective as trying to put out a fire by throwing gasoline on it. But like I said, Anson was getting pretty mad by now himself.
“ ‘You’re crazy, old man,’ Bruiser says. ‘You don’t know who you’re talking to, do you?’
“ ‘Doesn’t matter, son. For the last time, turn around and go away while you still can.’
“Next to Anson, the woman is speechless, her eyes wide, and she’s thinking that Anson is about to get himself a major whipping for goading this guy.
“Bruiser’s buddy, who is almost as big as he is, catches Bruiser’s arm as he starts for Anson. ‘Don’t do it, man. He’s just another jerk, the world is full of ’em.’
“But Bruiser is ready to rumble, and you can almost hear what he is thinking: This little guy had just dissed him in front of a good-lookin’ woman!
“ ‘I’m gonna make it one less full,’ he says to his friend. ‘Pal, you’re about to get crap-stomped by Harley William Dahl. I don’t care if you’re some kind of karate or kung fu expert showing off for your lady, I’m a two-time winner of K-1, and the North American Heavyweight NHB champ. I break men twice your size in half just to warm up, and I am gonna pound you into the ground like a tent peg!’
“Harley takes a couple of steps, then pulls up short, as Anson comes out from under his jacket with a forty-five slabside, cocked-and-locked.
“ ‘Pleased to meet you, Harley. I’m not anybody special — just an old retired Marine who can shoot Expert with this here antique Colt. Now like I said, why don’t you take a walk?’
“ ‘You can’t do that!’ Harley says. ‘It would be murder. ’
“ ‘You just told me what a champion fighter you are in front of a witness. I wouldn’t have a prayer against you hand-to-hand — no jury in the world would convict me for shooting you.’
“Harley glowers. His buddy pulls at his arm again. ‘Leave it, man!’
“Harley doesn’t want to do that. He is mad. ‘They’d fry the little coward!’
“ ‘The man has a gun, Harley! What do you care what a jury thinks? If it gets to that, you won’t be around to see it!’
“Something filters through. Harley backs up a step. ‘If you didn’t have that gun—’ he begins.
“Anson cuts him off. ‘If the world had been flat, son, Columbus would have sailed off the edge, wouldn’t he? I may be just a little coward, but I do have the gun, my ace beats your king. Go home and live. Come at me, and die. Your choice, it really don’t much matter much to me.’
“And Harley looks into Anson’s face and sees that the man would just as soon shoot him as not, and he lets his friend drag him away, cursing as he goes. Anson holsters the gun, opens the door for his lady friend, that’s that.”
Kent leaned against the wall. “Now, Anson is a modest man, not prone to bragging about how he does things. I heard the story from his date, who became his wife shortly thereafter. Nice lady, great cook.”
Jay looked at Kent. “I must be missing the point.”
“The point, son, is that no matter how big or strong or smart you might be, those don’t offset everything. Here was Harley, a martial arts combat champion, and if he’d jumped Anson, he’d be pushing up daisies.
“You couldn’t have beat the man who shot you — he had the superior weapon and the tactical advantage. You are an adept in your field, you could wipe up the floor with the guy in a computer duel, but it wasn’t your arena.
“Were you armed?”
“No. I should have been.”
“Maybe. But you weren’t. And even if you’d had a pistol and knew how to use it, what if you come up against five or eight armed guys? You can’t cover every base. There’s no dishonor in being out-gunned. This was the attacker’s game, not yours.”
Jay blinked. The man was right. Intellectually, he knew there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it.
Emotionally, it was another matter. But still…
“Thanks, Colonel. I appreciate the ear and the advice.”
“No problem. Next time my computer breaks down, I’ll call you.”
Jay managed a smile.
30
Thorn stripped away the VR gear and blew out a big sigh. This Natadze guy was getting to be a major pain. Thorn had expected to have found something else on him by now, but the man was just not there. He loved guitars and he shot people, that was pretty much it.
Clearly, Net Force would have to come up with some other approach. But what?
He looked at the clock. He’d been under for two hours, and he felt stiff and stale. Time to go to the gym for a little R&R.
As he got there, he saw Colonel Kent arriving at the same moment. In his left hand, he held his sheathed katana.
“Commander.”
“Colonel. Going to work out?”
“I thought I might wave this old blade around a little, yes.”
“Would you mind if I watched?”
“No, sir.” A pause. “Tom.”
Thorn grinned and followed Kent into the gym, which was empty save for them.
“If you had a sword, I could show you some of the basics,” Kent said.
Thorn grinned again. “As it happens, I do have a Japanese sword in my locker.”
Kent nodded, as if he wasn’t particularly surprised.
Thorn went to fetch the weapon, a katana he had bought from the great-granddaughter of a man who had been a Japanese general in WWII. The blade was almost four hundred years old and still mirror-bright.
When he got back, Kent had stripped to his T-shirt and trousers, his feet also bare. He looked to be in good shape for a man his age. Or for a man Thorn’s age. He knelt on the mat in that butt-on-heels position called seiza, his sheathed sword set next to him on the left.