belly.
He took a step back and saw the grin on the Colombian?s face. He held the assegai in his right hand and bent his knees for better balance. He moved to the right, watching Cesar?s eyes; never watch the blade, there are no warnings there. Cesar stabbed. Thobela jumped back and the knife flashed past in front. He stabbed with the assegai. Cesar was no longer there. The knife came again. He jerked back his arm, the blade sliced over his forearm. Another step back. The man was fast. Light on his feet, ten kilograms lighter than he was. Moved again, this time to the left, Cesar feinted right, moved left. Thobela dodged, up against the front of the Nissan, he must not be trapped against the car, three, four short steps to the right, the knife flashed so fast, it missed him by millimeters.
Thobela knew he was in trouble; the big man with the long hair was skilled. Faster than him. Lighter, younger. And he had another great advantage?he could kill, Thobela could not. Carla Griessel?s life depended on him not killing Cesar.
He must use the length of the assegai. He adjusted his grip, held it by the end of the shaft and swung it with a whooshing noise through the night, back and forth, back and forth. He felt the wound in his arm; saw an arc of blood spray as he swung. Cesar moved back, but calmly. The henchman widened the circle. One made a remark in Spanish and the other four laughed.
The opponents looked into each other?s eyes. The Colombian darted forward, the knife flashed, then he was back.
The man was toying with him. Cesar was aware of his superior speed. Thobela would have to neutralize that. He would have to use his power, his weight, but against a knife that was impossible.
The Colombian?s eyes betrayed his attack. Thobela pretended to move back, but came forward, he must keep the knife away, forward again, within the sweep of the knife arm, stabbed with the assegai. Cesar grabbed at it, grasping the blade in his left hand and unexpectedly jerked it towards him, Thobela lost his balance. Saw the blood on Cesar?s hand where the assegai had cut deeply, here came the knife, jerked his own left hand up to block it, got hold of Cesar?s arm, forced it back. Cesar adjusted his grip on the assegai, getting his hand on the shaft.
They stood locked in that grip. The knife bowed down, the point entered Thobela?s biceps, deep. The pain was intense. He would have to move his grip close to the wrist. Would have to do it swiftly and efficiently. He shifted suddenly; the knife cutting through his biceps saved him, because it kept the hand static for a split second. He knew the injury was serious. He had Cesar?s wrist, all his strength behind it. His forearm shrieked. Brought up his knees, kicked Cesar as hard as he could in the belly. Saw in his eyes it was a good contact.
Would have to finish now, in this moment of slight advantage. Pushed the knife hand back. His left arm would not last; the muscle was deeply cut. Shifted his point of balance, jerked the assegai free from the grasp, let it drop in the dust. Both hands on the knife-arm, bent it behind Cesar?s back. Lord, he was strong. Straining, he kicked him at the back of the knee and Cesar began to fall; he twisted the arm the last centimeters and Cesar made a sound. The henchmen called out. Swinging weapons from their shoulders, they moved too late. He twisted the arm until something popped and the knife came free from the fingers.
His right hand pressed Cesar?s arm against his back, the left hand had the knife, arm around the throat, pressing the point into the hollow of the neck. Deep. Cesar screamed and jerked and struggled. Strong. Would have to neutralize that. Turned the arm another bit, until ligaments tore. Cesar?s knees buckled. He kept the man upright, as a shield in front of him.
He pressed the point of the knife deeper into the neck. Felt the blood run over his hand. He felt his own pain shrill in his arm. He didn?t know how much blood he was losing. His entire left side was soaking, warm.
?You are very close to death,? he said softly into Cesar?s ear. The henchmen had carbines and machine pistols aimed at them.
The Colombian was frozen against him.
?If I move the knife, I will cut an artery,? he said. ?Do you hear me??
A noise.
?Your men have to put down their weapons.?
No reaction. Was it going to work? He thought he understood the hierarchy of the drug industry. The autocracy.
?I will count to three. Then I cut.? He tightened the muscles of his arm as if in readiness but it didn?t work so well. He knew there were sinews cut.
?One.?
Cesar jerked again, but the arm was bent too far back, the pain must be dreadful.
?Two.?
?
? Practically inaudible.
?Louder.?
?
?
The henchmen did nothing, just stood there. Thobela began to move the knife point slowly, deeper into the throat.
?
?
The first one moved slowly, putting his weapon carefully down on the ground. Another one.
?No,? said one of the Pajero men, the one with the shaven head.
He stood beside Griessel, the Heckler & Koch against the detective?s temple. ?I will shoot this one,? said Shaven Head.
