Boris stared at Khalil, then nodded and said, "That is the only move possible."
"Then make the move. Do not just stand there. And do not think you can surprise me by diving to the right or the left. You will be dead before you hit the floor… though I may let you get your hand on your gun as you roll."
Boris continued to stare at Khalil. He understood that this man needed to mock him and torment him before he killed him. But he also understood that he could not expect a quick death with a bullet from Asad Khalil's gun. Boris realized that no matter what he did-rolled, dove, even charged at Khalil-this man would shoot to wound him, then he would finish him off in a way that Boris did not want to think about. Or worse, Khalil would not kill him-he would mutilate him and leave him as a freak, a half-man with no genitals, no eyes, no tongue…
Boris felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and a cold sweat chilled his body.
Khalil seemed impatient and said, "Have you forgotten everything? Or was that just classroom talk? I have done all that you taught me. And more. So now you must show your student what you will do in this situation. I am waiting and curious."
Boris thought if he could keep Khalil talking, there was a chance that someone would come up the stairs or the elevator and see that something was not right. He waited for the doorbell to ring-a few notes of Tchaikovsky that would distract Khalil for half a second. That's all Boris needed. A half second to draw his gun.
Boris cleared his throat and said in a confident voice, "This building is under surveillance by the police and the FBI."
Khalil replied, "They do not seem to be any more competent or alert than your stupid bodyguards."
"You will not get out of this building alive."
"It is you who will not get out of this building alive."
Khalil had not moved far from the door, and now he stepped back and put his ear to it, then turned to Boris and said, "Someone is coming."
Boris took a deep breath, and prepared himself to go for his gun.
Then Khalil smiled and said, "Perhaps I was hearing things." Then he laughed.
Boris was enraged and shouted a string of half-remembered Arabic obscenities, then he shouted in English. "You fucking bastard! You piece of shit! Your mother was a fucking whore!"
Khalil aimed his gun-the Glock he'd taken from Corey's wife-at Boris's midsection, and Boris could see that Khalil's arm was shaking in rage. Boris waited for the bullet, hoping it would either miss him or hit his heart.
Khalil took a deep breath, then reached under his jacket and pulled out the long carving knife that he'd used to kill the two bodyguards.
Boris stood completely still and watched as Khalil gripped the blade, holding the knife in a throwing position.
Khalil's arm cocked back, and he flung the knife toward Boris, who flinched as the knife stuck in the carpet at his feet.
Boris stared at the knife with the bloody blade. He understood what was coming.
Khalil said to him, "You may have the knife-in exchange for your gun."
Boris looked at Khalil, but did not respond.
Khalil said, "You have chosen not to draw your gun. So I am offering you this instead." He added, "This is very generous of me-though it will be more painful for you." He asked Boris, "Have you been practicing with the knife since I last saw you?" He smiled and added, "Or perhaps just the knife and fork."
Boris weighed his options, which were reduced now to two-go for his gun and hope for a quick bullet in the head or heart; or engage Asad Khalil in a knife fight. He could win that fight, but if he didn't, he knew what Asad Khalil would do to him with the knife.
Khalil said to him, "You seem to be unable to make a decision today. So I will make it for you." He crouched into a shooting stance and steadied his aim.
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, running straight at Khalil and snatching the knife as he continued toward him.
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 beginning to think that Khalil had either learned caution or had realized that he should not have gotten into this situation with the man who taught him how to fight with a knife.
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.