you could have heard a pin drop in the hall once he stopped speaking. In fact, you could have heard the pin while it was still in midair. The Silvestri dropped one of his daggers. The Romanov went very pale. And the Kartakis's last swallow of wine went down entirely the wrong way and half choked him. Valentine Wolfe ignored the unpleasant sounds, and concentrated on the increasingly unhappy security chief on the viewscreen.
'Are you telling me,' he said almost pleasantly, 'that all our extensive and incredibly expensive security measures couldn't stop two people from breaking in?'
'Well, basically, yes, my Lord. After all, the two people are—'
'I know who they are. That's why I hired you and your people. And just from looking at you, I can tell there's more bad news. What is it?'
The security chief looked even more unhappy, if that was possible. 'Some outside system has penetrated our computers and is shutting down the processing plant.'
'Now, correct me if I'm wrong, and I don't think I am,' said Valentine. 'But I seem to remember you telling me that such a thing was completely and utterly impossible.'
'Yes, my Lord. Strictly speaking, it is impossible. It shouldn't be happening.'
'But it is.'
'Yes, my Lord.'
'You're fired,' said Valentine. 'Collect your severance pay and have your second in command nail your head to a chair before you leave. And no, you don't get a reference.'
He shut down the viewscreen and leaned back in his chair. The Silvestri picked up the dagger he'd dropped. 'You should have had him killed, Wolfe.'
'Don't be silly, Carlos,' said Valentine absently. 'Mercenaries have a very strong union.' He chuckled suddenly, a soft, dangerous sound. 'Dear Owen, how did you know to find me here? I covered my trail extremely thoroughly. And yet, here you are, turning up like the proverbial bad penny to ruin my day yet again. You always want to spoil my fun. Still, I hope you appreciate my little act of vengeance. After all, every dramatic gesture really needs an audience to appreciate it.'
The Silvestri pulled his other dagger from a portrait's eye, deliberately ripping the ancient canvas. 'I'm not afraid of the big bad Deathstalker. Let him come. Him and his bitch.'
The Romanov shrugged off the priceless tapestry he'd been wearing like a cloak and frowned thoughtfully. 'You might not have enough sense to be scared of the Deathstalker, but I have. He's a dangerous man. He really did do most of the things he's supposed to have done. Even the ones that sound impossible. But unlike the rest of you, I had a feeling our security forces weren't up to stopping or even slowing down a living legend, if he did get wind of our operation. So I made my own arrangements. A little surprise, especially for the Deathstalker. Now, if you'll excuse me, or even if you won't, I think I'll go and unpack it.'
He strode out with his head held high. Valentine applauded his exit languidly, and his scarlet smile widened. 'Surprises. I do so love surprises. As it happens, I have one or two prepared for dear Owen too.'
'It had better involve sudden death for our enemies, or we're all in real trouble,' said the Kartakis, his breathing back under control again. He sounded suddenly very sober, and not at all happy about it. 'The Deathstalker is really not going to be pleased when he discovers what we've made of his old home.'
'I'm not afraid of him,' said the Silvestri defiantly.
'Yes, well, that's because you're a complete bloody head case,' said the Kartakis equably. 'In our line of work that's usually an advantage, but we can't afford indulgences like insanity right now. We have to think. Come up with a plan. We have men and resources. At least the Deathstalker didn't bring an army with him to back him up.'
'He doesn't need an army,' Valentine pointed out. 'He's got Hazel d'Ark.'
'You're being remarkably calm about all this,' snapped the Kartakis. 'Do you know something we don't, or have you been popping a few extra pills today?'
Valentine smiled easily. 'I have a plan. A very unpleasant plan, perfectly tailored to take advantages of Owen's weaknesses. All you have to do is keep the d'Ark woman occupied. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be about setting my plan in motion. Oh, it's going to be such fun watching him suffer.'
He got up, bowed elegantly, and left, strolling casually away as though he didn't have a care in the world. The two aristocrats looked after him.
'That man is not living in the same reality as the rest of us,' said the Silvestri.
The Kartakis snorted. 'His plan probably involves cutting his losses, abandoning us, and heading for the far horizon like a bat with its ass on fire. If we're going to survive this, we're going to have to do it ourselves. We can stop them. We just have to prepare… something… to get them off balance…'
'I'm not afraid of the—'
'Will you stop saying that! You're not fooling anyone!'
'Least of all me,' said Owen Deathstalker.
The two aristocrats spun around and there he was, standing tall and intimidating in the doorway, a sword in his hand like it belonged there and always had. His face was grave, his eyes were cold and unwavering, and he looked every inch of his legend. Hazel d'Ark was at his side, leaning casually on the door frame, a large projectile gun in her hand. Just looking at the two of them, Athos Kartakis felt his blood run cold. The Kartakis had fought so many duels he'd lost count, stared death in the face and spat in the bony eye socket, but he'd never really felt in terror of his life before now. He had a disrupter under his robes, but knew he'd be dead if he even tried to draw it. Unless he could come up with a distraction…
'Well, Silvestri,' he said as casually as he could. 'You always said you could take the Deathstalker. Feel free to prove it.'
Owen looked at the Silvestri interestedly. The aristocrat shot a glance of betrayal at the Kartakis, and then faced Owen steadily. 'You don't scare me, Deathstalker,' he said loudly. 'I've heard about your inhuman powers, but they just sound to me like something a coward could hide behind. How about it, Owen? Have you got the guts to fight me as a man, not a monster? Because I can take you man to man, steel to steel, and deep down you know it.'
'Now he really is full of it,' said Hazel. 'Say the word, Owen, and I'll shoot his eyes out.'
'No,' said Owen. 'I could use a little entertainment.' He looked at the Kartakis. 'Don't try and interfere. Hazel wouldn't like it.'
'Wouldn't dream of it,' said the Kartakis quite sincerely. He backed away, keeping both hands in clear sight, thinking hard.
Owen moved slowly forward into the great hall, taking in the various damage that had been done to the fixtures and fittings of what had once been his home. He didn't look angry or even upset; he looked just a little colder, and even more dangerous. Carlos Silvestri came forward to meet him, moving lightly on the balls of his feet, a slender knife in each hand. In his own way he looked dangerous too, but it was nothing compared to the cold implacability of the Deathstalker, and everyone there knew it. The two men came together to fight in the middle of the hall, and everyone there knew how it was going to end.
The two men circled each other unhurriedly, blades at the ready for any hint of an opening in the other's defenses. Theoretically, it was a more or less even fight. Knives were excellent for close-in fighting, but had no reach. Unless you threw them and risked disarming yourself. The sword, on the other hand, had plenty of reach, but when it came to infighting, the long blade could be wielded nowhere near as quickly as a knife.
The Silvestri launched the first attack, his right hand moving almost too quickly for the human eye to follow. Owen parried the blade, and then had to jump back as the left hand came swinging in from nowhere with vicious speed and purpose, heading for Owen's undefended gut. The flashing blade missed Owen's stomach by a fraction of an inch. Owen brought his sword around in a swift backhand sweep that clipped the Silvestri's head as he ducked at the last moment. And then they were circling again, calm and collected and deadly cold.
The Silvestri feinted with his right hand, waited until Owen had committed himself to the counter, and then his left hand snapped forward, throwing the knife at Owen's right eye. His sword was too low to deflect the knife, and both of them knew it. The Silvestri's eyes widened in triumph. And then Owen's golden Hadenmen hand came up out of nowhere to intercept the knife's flight and slap it to one side. The knife chunked harmlessly into the tabletop, and while the Silvestri was caught momentarily off balance, Owen swung his blade with all his strength behind it and sheared cleanly through his opponent's neck. The head fell to the ground and rolled away across the floor to bump up against the Kartakis's feet. He made a silent moue of distaste and moved his feet a little away. The headless body stumbled forward a few steps, blood gouting from the neck, and then it crumpled to the
