The two men rolled, came to rest with Taine on top, Retief face-down, his arm bent back and doubled. Taine, red-faced and puffing, grunted as he applied pressure.
"You know a lot about me," he grated, "but you overlooked the fact that I've been Glavian Judo champion for the past nine years."
"You're a clever man, Taine," Retief said between clenched teeth. "Too clever to think it will work."
"It will work. Glave's never had a CDT mission here before. We're too small. Corasol invited your Embassy in because he had an idea there was something in the wind. That forced my hand. I've had to move hastily. But by the time I invite observers in to see for themselves, everything will be running smoothly. I can even afford to let Corasol and the others go—I'll have hostages for his good behavior."
"You've been wanting to boast about it to someone who could appreciate your cleverness, I see. Sozier must be an unappreciative audience."
"Sozier's a filthy pig—but he had his uses."
"What do you plan to do now?"
"I've been wondering that myself—but I think the best solution is to simply break your arm for now. You should be easy to control then. It's quite simple. I merely apply pressure, thus...."
"Judo is a very useful technique," Retief said. "But in order to make it work, you have to be a pretty good man...." He moved suddenly, shifting his position. Taine grabbed, holding Retief's arm by the wrist and elbow, his own arm levering Retief's back, back.... Retief twisted onto his side, then his back. Taine grunted, following the movement, straining. Slowly, Retief sat up against Taine's weight. Then, with a surge, he straightened his arm. Taine's grip broke. Retief came to his feet. Taine scrambled up in time to meet a clean uppercut that snapped him onto his back—out cold.