Mauser in Budapest."

Pieces were beginning to fit in.

Joe looked at George Armstrong. "You're one of us, aren't you? One of
the Phil Holland, Frank Hodgson group." He looked at Nadine. "Why
wasn't I told? Am I a junior member or something, that I can't be
trusted?"

Armstrong snorted. "You should study up on revolutionary routine, Joe.
The smaller the unit of organization, the better. The fewer members
you know, the fewer you can betray. Here in the Sov-world, back before
the Sovs came to power, the size of their cells was five members, so
the most any one person could betray was four."

The tic started at the side of Joe's mouth.

Armstrong said hurriedly. "Don't misunderstand. Your fortitude isn't
being questioned. Bravery no longer enters into it. There are methods
today under which nobody could hold up." He seemed to come to a sudden
decision. "We can't let this take place. You'll have to back down,
Mauser. Somehow, there's been a leak and your real purpose in being in
Budapest is known. Very well, Phil Holland and the others will simply
have to send someone else to replace you."

But Joe had had enough by now. "Look," he said. "Everybody seems to
think I can't take care of myself with this foppish molly and his
fancy swordsmanship. I've had fifteen years of combat."

"Joe!" Nadine said, "don't be silly. The man's a professional
assassin. This is his field, not yours."

Joe said flatly, "On the other hand. I have a job to do and it doesn't
involve being run out of Budapest."

General Armstrong said, "Dash it, don't go drivel-happy on us, Mauser.
I've just told you, the man's the best swordsman in Europe and Asia
combined, and the third best shot."

"How is he with Bowie knives?" Joe said.

XIX

To Mauser's surprise, the Sovs actually turned up two genuine Bowie
knives. He had expected the duel, actually, to have to be conducted
with trench knives or some other alternative. But the Sovs, ever great
on museums, had located one of the weapons of the American Old West in
a Prague exhibit of the American frontier, the other in Budapest
itself in an extensive collection of fighting knives, down through the
ages, in a military museum.

Formally correct, Lieutenant colonel Bela Kossuth appeared at Joe
Mauser's apartment three days before the duel, a case in his hands.
Max, in his role as batman, conducted him to Joe, doing little to keep
his scowl of dislike for the Hungarian from his face. Max was get