“Any more questions?” Martinez asked.
Jack thought about the knife attack on the oil rig that almost killed him. He cleared his throat, carefully picking his words. “Master, it seems as if we would have to study for years in order to master this fighting technique. I would think that Kali, like all martial arts, has a lot of ritual forms and defined movements. How does that translate to real-world knife fighting? Most knife attacks are short and explosive, not like what we did today.”
“An excellent question. First, I would say that learning the art of Kali or any other martial art has many benefits beyond fighting. But you already know that, I’m sure. So to answer your question directly, learning the ‘ritual forms and defined movements,’ as you put it, trains your mind and body to handle the knife and the rhythms of what you call a ‘real’ knife fight.”
“How?” Dom asked.
“There are only three basic moves in a knife attack,” Amador said. He held up his knife and demonstrated each movement as he spoke.
“An overhead strike, a forward thrust, and a slash. That’s it! An unskilled fighter will rely on one of these moves primarily. The most advanced fighter uses combinations of all three. Kali teaches you all three, and how to put them together in a devastating combination.”
Amador stepped closer to Jack. “But I’m not here to teach you Kali or to sell you on the benefits of it. What Bruiser asked me to do was to help you with knife fighting. What I’ve attempted to show you today is not the technique of fighting but the essence of knife fighting itself.”
“The ‘basic’ idea that we must master?” Jack asked.
“Yes.”
“And what is that?”
Amador held up his karambit. “It’s not this.” He tapped the side of his head with the dull practice blade. “The mind is the knife, son. The blade is only an extension of your will. If a man attacks you with a knife, he is attacking you with his mind. You need to understand the mind of the knife fighter first. Forget the knife. The knife is nothing. It’s the fighter that counts. You beat the fighter, not the knife.”
Jack rubbed his bearded face, trying to process what Amador was saying.
“But there are knife-fighting techniques,” Dom said. “And specific skills to defend against them.”
“Yes, there are. But never forget that the best defense against a knife if you have no other weapon is to use these.” Amador held up one of his bare brown feet. “Notice my advanced technique.” He set his foot back down, turned, and pivoted, taking several short steps away. He called over his shoulder. “Always run away if you can!” he said, laughing.
The three students laughed, too, as Amador crossed back over to the two kneeling men. He stared down at them. “Now, seriously. If you have no weapon against a knife, escape if at all possible. A knife is very dangerous. Nothing to fool with. Understood?”
They both nodded.
Amador held out his open hands. Martinez and Dom carefully held up the razor-sharp karambits and Amador took them in his fighting grip.
“You saw how powerful one blade was in both attack and defense,” the wizened Filipino master said. “Can you imagine what two of these can do in the hands of one who can use them?”
Jack ran through the katas he’d seen in years past. In his mind’s eye he threw punches and kicks at the little Filipino, then watched the two karambit blades in the master’s hands cutting his limbs like scissors or blocking Jack’s unarmored flesh as it struck. Jack felt his two thighs being ripped open at once, his two wrists slashed at the same time, and two pointed claws tearing across his eyes simultaneously. He shuddered.
“Does it matter if we’re fighting an opponent who uses two knives?” Jack asked. “Or do we use the same approach as someone who only uses one?”
Amador’s smile faded. “I will tell you what my master taught me when I was first learning the way of the knife and asked the exact same question.”
Amador handed the two lethal karambits to Jack, then laid a strong hand on Jack’s broad shoulder. His voice lowered. “‘Whenever you are faced with a true master of two blades,’ he said to me, ‘pray to God that He is ready to receive you in Heaven, because in that moment you are surely going to die.’” Amador leaned in closer to Jack. “In other words, my friend, RUN LIKE HELL!”
Martinez belly-laughed. So did Dom. When Amador finally cracked up, Jack allowed himself a grin.
Martinez stood. “Let’s grab some breakfast. All this knife fighting has made me hungry. Then we’ll come back and Master Inosanto will run us through some more of his drills.”
“Works for me,” Amador said. “I’m dying for pancakes!”
Dom stood up to grab his shoes, but Jack just stared at the two blades in his hands, feeling their heft and fearing the worst.
7
He’d read somewhere that the Chinese ideograph for the word crisis was supposedly composed of the two words for opportunity and danger. Even if it wasn’t true, President Jack Ryan found it relevant to today’s meeting.
The President sat on the far end of the long mahogany conference table. All of the tall leather chairs surrounding the table were empty except for the four next to him. In times of national crisis every chair would be filled, and deputy assistants would crowd the rest of the room, either sitting or standing. But today he wasn’t facing a crisis — at least, not yet. He certainly saw an opportunity, but he also sensed extreme danger for the nation if he made the wrong choice in the next thirty minutes.
President Ryan was flanked on his left by Mary Pat Foley, the director of national intelligence, and Robert Burgess, the secretary of defense. On his right sat the secretary of state, Scott Adler, and the President’s chief of staff, Arnold Van Damm, the only political voice he allowed in the room. Arnie’s hair was long gone and the lines in his careworn face were deeper than when the President had first met him, but the pale blue eyes — and the brain behind them — were as keen as ever.
That was it. These were four of his most trusted advisers. Ryan didn’t want a cacophony of political opinions or academic theories clouding the room. He needed only the clear, sober, actionable analysis these four would give him in order to make his decision, and quickly.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice — and for keeping this meeting just between us. We don’t need public opinion or the Hill getting ahead of us on this.”
They all nodded. “Of course, Mr. President,” Mary Pat Foley said. “We understand completely and we serve at your discretion.”
Ryan poured himself a cup of black coffee from the service in front of them and invited the others to do the same. “We don’t have much time to make this call. You know I count on each of you for your honest and candid opinions. I know you’ve all been briefed by Mary Pat, but I want to catch you up on the facts before we proceed. Mary Pat.”
The director of national intelligence picked up a remote control and pointed it at one of the big wall monitors. She talked through the video from the SBIRS GEO-3 infrared missile-warning satellite as it played on the screen.
“As you all know, the North Koreans managed to successfully launch a MIRV’d SLBM yesterday at approximately five p.m. EST. The missile carried three dummy warheads, each landing harmlessly, thankfully, in the northern Pacific Ocean with no loss of life or property damage. Nevertheless, the event is significant for several reasons.