“Surely you are not such a craven man that you would prefer the ignominy of a public trial,” Stengrave continued. “With your name dragged through the mud as you are found guilty—and you will be—and sentenced to a very lengthy prison term. Your wife and children will be forced to fend for themselves, and they will probably have to sell their home and move out of that wonderful neighborhood you’ve been living in for the past three years.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Kuhn asked while edging closer to the rack of swords. He had fenced in college, even done some reenactment fighting of the German sword techniques, but all that had been more than a decade ago. Plus, he wasn’t in the best shape after ten years of sitting at a computer behind a desk. His wife, Helene, had been hounding him to take better care of himself, but he had always said there’d be time for that later. Now he found himself desperately wishing he had listened to her.
“I am telling you this because if you face me and win, all record of your transgression will be erased. You will, of course, have to leave our employ, but no doubt a stellar recommendation from your immediate superiors will allow you to find employment elsewhere with ease...perhaps even with the company you’ve been moonlighting for.”
“You’ll have to excuse me for finding it hard to believe that you would simply let me go after all this.”
“Make no mistake, if you defeat me, you will have earned your freedom.”
“Okay...” Kuhn nodded. “And if I lose?”
“If you lose, you will be dead. Your family, however, will not suffer in your absence. As I said, they are not complicit in your crime, and I bear them no ill will. As a matter of fact, they would be eligible to receive the life insurance payout on your untimely death.”
“Sure—while you go to prison for murder.” Kuhn regarded the nearest few suits of armor, noticing that none had a weapon sheathed at its side. If he is truly in here somewhere, he’s unarmed right now...
“Mr. Kuhn, do you really think that I have not planned this down to the last detail?” his boss asked. “Officially, you will have died in an unfortunate car accident. And yes, there will be a scenario created that will explain the injuries on your body. Stengrave Industries will mourn the loss of one of its own, and due to the life insurance policy, including double indemnity for your tragic but accidental death, your widow and children will be able to live lives of comfort, rather than being forced to fend for themselves— She does have a degree, I recall, but has not worked since your children were born, yes?”
Kuhn’s head spun at the casual yet definitive way Stengrave has defined the two paths he faced, as if there were no other options at this point. He listened as Stengrave continued. “You have sullied the honor of your family name with your deception and insulted me, as well. All I am offering to you is a chance to make it right, for you to reclaim your honor and perhaps die with your integrity restored. And who knows, you may even win.”
“And what if I sit on the floor and refuse to participate in your crazy game?”
“Then eventually I will grow tired of waiting and come to kill you. But surely that is not how you wish to die, is it, Mr. Kuhn? Sitting passively on the floor, meekly accepting your fate? Your family forced to continue their lives knowing their father was a criminal—for I will definitely have to let them know of your misdeeds—”
Kuhn’s brow furrowed. “So now you’re trying to blackmail me into playing, fighting for my life?”
“I am offering something you will not find anywhere else—a chance to redeem yourself, to pass from this world to the next with your head held high.”
Kuhn looked back at the door leading to the room in which he had awakened, then at the hall of armor in front of him. As he stood there, he realized with a strange frisson of combined horror and honesty that Stengrave was right—there was only one way out.
“All right.” Striding to the rack of bladed weapons, he selected the long sword—the only one that even came close to the fencing blades he’d used in college, and tested its heft and reach. He couldn’t explain it, but it somehow felt...right in his hand. “I’m ready.”
“Good. You may begin at your leisure.”
Gripping the hilt in both hands, Kuhn slowly began walking down the rest of the hallway, searching for that one suit of armor that had the telltale sign of a real person inside it.
That one? Or maybe that one? He stared at each one, trying to discern something, anything that would give him the edge.
There! Spotting what he thought was a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, Kuhn whirled and drove the tip of the blade as hard as he could into the lower abdomen of a spectacular suit of fluted armor that was engraved everywhere with delicate golden filigree.
The armor suit tipped backward and crashed to the ground. On impact, the helmet flew off, revealing a mannequin’s featureless face.
Sword held high, Kuhn turned, looking for one of the suits to come at him. None of them moved. Come on...come on!
He lashed out at another suit nearest to him, this one a simpler, unadorned collection of steel armor. It, too, went over in a clatter of metal and mannequin limbs. Kuhn turned to the next one, only to find it had stepped off its dais and was coming right at him.
Stengrave rushed him like a striker charging for a loose ball—a striker sheathed in sixty pounds of metal.
Kuhn didn’t even think about trying to get his sword up—he just leaped out of the way. Stengrave didn’t change course or attempt to stop, however, he just kept going, only slowing once he’d reached the sword rack. Grabbing a heavy-bladed Walloon sword by its basket hilt, he whirled, slashing out with it in a move that would have sliced Kuhn’s chest open if it had connected.
The younger man, however, wasn’t there anymore. He’d gotten up and backed away, sword held out in front of him. Now armed, the six-foot-five Stengrave regarded him for a moment from inside a visored basinet that covered his entire head. Stengrave raised his sword in front of him in a brief but sincere salute, then began advancing on the smaller man.
Kuhn stepped back and then did so again. His foot brushed against a helmet that had fallen off one of the other suits, and he reached down, groping blindly for it, as he dared not take his eyes off his attacker. Stengrave kept coming, and just when Kuhn thought he’d have to abandon the piece, his fingers gripped an edge and he grabbed the helmet and whipped it up at Stengrave.
He’d thrown it in his opponent’s general direction, so the programmer was surprised to see his improvised missile clang into Stengrave’s helmet, throwing the man off course for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, Kuhn didn’t follow up with an attack, but instead darted off deeper into the hallway, trying to find a place to hide and hopefully figure out some way to take the armored man by surprise.
Despite the odds against him, Kuhn hadn’t felt this alive in years. Also, from what he had seen, he thought he might actually have a chance to take the other man. Stengrave’s closed-face helmet protected him, but it also limited his vision to a tiny strip right in front of his eyes. Plus, as the helmet was attached to the rest of the armor, it didn’t allow him to turn his head! Finally, there were many places where he wasn’t nearly as heavily armored, like his neck, elbow and knee joints.
If I can just take him by surprise, I might be able to pull this off, Kuhn thought. And I think I know exactly how...
Hiding behind the last suit of armor near the far door, he tried to get his breathing under control as he peeked out just enough to locate Stengrave. The bigger man had returned to the middle of the hallway, standing a few steps away from the rack of swords. Although he was looking around, Kuhn’s evaluation of his helmet was correct—Stengrave couldn’t turn his head. He ran through his plan one more time in his mind. Here goes...
He shoved the armor he was