“Out!” Leoh snapped. “Get out of here, or by all the ancient gods, old as I am….”
The newsman backed off a step. Then, “Suppose I am doubting you. Not your veracity, but your optimism about the machine’s being safe. Suppose I said you don’t really know that it’s safe, you’re just hoping that it is.”
Hector stepped between them. “Now wait … if you can’t….”
“Suppose,” the newsman went on, ducking past Hector, “suppose I challenged you to a duel.”
“I’ve used this machine many times,” Leoh said.
“Okay, but I still challenge you.”
Suddenly Leoh felt absolutely calm. “Very well. I accept your challenge. And you can do whatever you want to during our duel to try to prove your point. But I insist on one condition: the tape of the duel must be made public knowledge immediately after the duel is finished.”
The newsman grinned. “Perfect.”
Leoh realized that this was what he had been after all along.
Odal sat in his cell-like room in the Kerak embassy, waiting for the phone message. The room was narrow and severe, with strictly functional furniture—a bed, a desk and chair, a viewscreen. No decorations, plain military gray walls, no window.
Kor had explained the plan for Leoh’s destruction before Odal had boarded the ship for Acquatainia. Odal did not like the plan, but it seemed workable and it would surely remove Leoh from the scene.
The phone buzzed.
Odal leaned across the desk and touched the ON button. The newsman’s chubby face took form on the small screen.
“Well?” Odal demanded.
“He accepted the challenge. We duel in three days.