~ Knight Of The Gypsies ~

by

Scott C. Ristau

Kurt headed toward Wilhelm Andvari’s private office. Access codes purloined from Wilhelm’s home computer on the night of the party would enable Kurt to penetrate the lock on his office door. Once inside, he hoped to find further evidence incriminating Wilhelm and provide for his right of entry into the nano-materials processing center.

A quick examination of the passage reassured Kurt that he was unobserved. Keying in the proper sequence of numbers on the control pad released the lock. As he began pushing open the door, a heavy hand took hold of his arm in an iron grip, spun him around, and slammed him up against the wall.

Kurt’s heart leapt into his throat and terror ran shrieking through his soul when he recognized Wilhelm Andvari’s right-hand man. Towering over Kurt, Karl Wieland was tall, square of jaw and powerfully built. His smooth, shaved head gleamed with reflected florescent light and Karl’s bulging biceps threatened to burst the fabric of his short-sleeve shirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Karl roared in a furious exclamation of outrage. “You’re not allowed in there.”

Karl’s dark eyes and menacing build advertised a great capacity for violence. The situation required a clever lie but exceeded Kurt’s powers of invention. He stammered, unable to concoct a credible reason for his transgression.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Robert unexpectedly arrived on the scene and barked vituperatively, “Get your damn hands off my friend, you stupid son-of-a-bitch.”

Karl’s face distorted in rage. “Mind your own business, asshole, unless you want some share of the trouble he’s in.”

Robert stored his temper at the surface of his personality and generally kept his gentler emotions buried much deeper inside himself. So he met Karl’s challenge with utmost eagerness. Swung with extreme severity, Robert’s knotted fist connected with Karl’s nose and the brutish snout erupted in a bright, crimson spray of blood.

Animated by vicious, primitive fury, Karl retaliated by directing the full measure of his superabundant strength against his new adversary. Wild and willful, Robert refused to retreat and the combatants continued to clash in a brutal bout of fisticuffs.

Robert proved himself to be an iron-hard man as impervious to repeated blows as is an anvil to the work of the hammer. He fought with indomitable spirit and ultimately beat his opponent into submission. However, having a nearly inexhaustible reserve, Robert’s wealth of cruelty was far from being fully expended. He went on striking Karl with unwavering perseverance. A homicidal fit seemed to take hold of him and he sustained his unrelenting abuse far longer than was necessary to prove himself the victor. Robert nearly pounded Karl into unconsciousness and would have gone on beating him until his breath was fully exhausted had security not arrived and pulled him off.

Kurt explained that he had only entered the private office in search of Wilhelm when Karl attacked him and Robert intervened. Security accepted the story at face value and took Karl to the infirmary.

Once the others were gone, Robert gave Kurt a brotherly slap on the shoulder and asked, “So what were you really doing in there?”

“Spying,” Kurt confessed.

“Come again?” Robert’s eyebrows lifted in stunned disbelief.