Point of Contact

Martinez rolled his eyes. “More and more LEOs and service members are picking these up. They come in folders with grippier composite handles and pocket clips for concealed carry.” Martinez held up the blade Amador had given him. He admired the knife in his hand. “Me, I like the traditional ones.”

“Perhaps as you can tell from my accent,” Amador began, “I’m from the Philippines. My culture is a traditional blade culture, and in my country, just about every man on the street carries a knife. Sometimes like the one you hold in your hand.”

Amador paused as the others examined their blades again.

He continued. “Many of our fighting arts, like Kali, are all about the blade, especially the knife.” He turned to Jack. “In close-quarters combat, my favorite weapon is a twelve-gauge shotgun if I can get my hands on one.” He smiled.

“Amen, brother,” Martinez said.

Amador held out his palm and Jack carefully handed him the karambit. Amador held it up high. “But if you don’t have a shotgun, a pistol, or even a knife, how do you fight with a man who knows how to use one of these?”

That’s what Jack wanted to know, too. That momentary freeze on the oil rig after the blond killer stabbed him with the knife almost cost him his life and the lives of his team members. He was still dealing with the idea that she had fooled him, but he also needed to make sure that he was better prepared for fighting with blades.

“There are many techniques for fighting with a knife, and many techniques for defending against one.” Amador touched the side of his head. “But there is one basic idea that you must master before any of those techniques make sense. That is why I have come today.”

Jack exchanged a look with Dom. This is going to be an interesting day.

“Let’s start with the basics, okay? Because if you want to fight with the blade or against it, you must first understand the blade,” Amador said.

“Is that the idea we must master?” Jack said.

Amador shook his head. “No.” He lifted the knife up high so everyone could see it. He touched the various parts of the karambit as he spoke.

“What advantage does a knife give in combat? First is the blade itself. Sharp steel.” He dragged the blade slowly in the air above his flesh, making precise motions across and around his free hand and arm. “It will slice through skin, muscle, tendons, cartilage, and even bone. Your fist can’t do that. Neither can your foot. And the steel? It feels no pain.” He grinned again. “It only causes it.”

“Second, the knife extends your reach.” He thrust the blade out in front of him as fast as a cracked whip. “This one? Not as much as, say, a KA-BAR or bowie knife, but still, a three- or four-inch extension is still an extension, isn’t it? And in the hand of a skilled enemy? That is enough advantage to kill you.”

6

Amador pointed out the other features of the hand-forged karambit, then returned it carefully to his leather bag. He then removed two dulled versions — training knives. He stepped back over to Jack, pocketing one as he approached.

“You have trained in martial arts, yes?” Amador asked.

Jack nodded. “Jiu-jitsu, karate, judo. Even a little Krav Maga, thanks to Dom.”

“Good. Then you are familiar with basic blocking and striking with the hands and forearms.”

“Of course.”

“And the more advanced moves that exploit twisting joints, pressure points, and so on? Like aikido?”

“Yes, but I can always get better. That’s why I’m here.”

“Good! Me too! Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.” Amador laughed. And just as suddenly his smile disappeared and his laughing eyes narrowed.

Jack took the hint. He squared up and bowed to his teacher and Amador returned a slighter bow to his student.

“Let’s start with a very basic move, shall we?” Amador raised the karambit high above his head with his right arm. “A common thrust by a street thug or criminal. It takes no training.” He stepped slowly toward Jack and lowered the blade in slow motion. Jack raised his much larger left forearm perpendicular to the strike. Amador’s arm touched Jack’s and they left both arms frozen in the air, holding the position.

Amador turned to Martinez and Dom. “You see? Jack is well trained. He knew how to block this basic strike.” He turned to Jack, much taller than he. “And what does your training tell you to do next?”

Still blocking Amador’s right arm with his left, Jack swung a slow-motion right fist toward Amador’s midsection until it connected.

“Good! Right out of the textbook.” Amador disengaged and took a step back. “Now let’s see what an enemy with a little more skill might be able to do.”