Sven gestured lazily with one thick hand. "Anybody knows that, Kit does. A real running expert on smash and skedaddle. And the only man on the station I can't throw five out of five times, sparring."

Kit chuckled thinly, drawing little circles in the condensate on the tabletop. "Only before I retired, buddy. I wouldn't go near you, right now. -"

"Only proves you should," Sven came back with a grin. "Keep you on your toes. Keep you young."

"Don't rub it in too deep," Kit laughed. "You're not that far behind me. Let's see, how old will you be come June?"

"Old enough," Sven said with a mock glower that fooled no one.

Margo was staring, oogle-eyed, from one to the other. Then quite suddenly she relaxed, as though she'd finally decided Sven didn't plan to pick up his steak knife and do her in between the salad and the main course.

"Now, that's not to say," Kit said with a smile, drawing the discussion back to the topic at hand, "that there's anything inherently wrong with good karate. I've got a black in Sho Shin Ri and another in... Well, I have several and they're all useful now and again. But Aikido which is what happened to you, by the way is probably the perfect defensive art."

Margo did another beautifully executed stationary female flounce and glared at him-although less murderously than in the gym. "That was humiliating."

"So's dying," Sven said laconically.

Margo flushed. "Okay, so I have a lot to learn. That's why I came looking for a teacher. At least it'll be more interesting than math."

Sven grinned. "You don't know math, you'll kill yourself just as dead as a back-street punk with a dirk would. Now, if you really want to kill, Korean Hap Ki Do or Hwarangdo are interesting forms to get into. If you have six or eight years. Of course," Sven rubbed his hands together and grinned, "Kit will tell you the years spent studying Hap Ki Do's art of invisibility would be far more useful to a scout than its fighting style."

Kit ignored the gambit to reopen a favorite discussion. "Unfortunately," Kit told Margo, "you don't have years because you'll be spending most of your time studying, not sparring. So what we'll do is set you up with an Aikido instructor to give you a good grounding in basics and a few specific moves, things that maybe could get you out of tight spots."

Sven punched Margo good-naturedly in the shoulder, causing her to wince. `That's right. Stuff to let you use those damned attractive legs of yours to run like hell."

Margo scowled at Sven. "My legs are none of your business!"

"Oh, yes they are," he grinned, an evil, thickset imp who leaned back and cracked his knuckles while staring her down.

Margo turned a dismayed look on Kit. "He isn't..."

Kit nodded

"Oh, no.. ." She sat back in stunned horror. "My teacher?"

"Yep," Sven said as his beer arrived with the bread and fruit plate. "Tomorrow morning, 7:00 A.m. Dress out and be prompt. Because if you're late, I am going to wipe up the mat with you." Then he laughed. "Hell, I'm going to wipe up the mat with you either way, but if you're late, I'll be irritated when I do it." He held up his glass in a toast. "Enjoy your dinner."

The look of stricken horror Margo tried to hide was comical.

Kit grinned and refilled her wine glass. "Drink up, kid. Tomorrow you go into training, which means no more alcohol." The stricken look deepened.

"None? Not even wine?"

"None," Kit and Sven said simultaneously.

"A muddle-headed scout-" Kit began.

"I know, I know," Margo groaned. "Doesn't live long."

Thus proving she can learn; if she hears it often enough. "After you finish up with Sven, Ann Vinh Mulhaney will be ready for you."

"What does she do?" Margo wailed.

"She shoots the pants off me," Sven chuckled.

Margo just covered her face. "I'm doomed."

Kit tousled her hair, earning a fierce glare. "You could always quit and go home."

"Never!" The alley-cat snarl prompted a grin of anticipation from Sven Bailey.

"Well, then," Kit smiled, "eat your dinner and pay attention. Uncle Sven and I are about to start your first lesson in survival theory"

She gave them both a dubious glance. "That being?"

Sven guffawed. "When the fight starts, be someplace else. And always remember, nobody watches your butt for you when it's You versus the Universe-and Margo, the universe just don't give a damn. Death's a high price to pay for stupidity or carelessness, but they'll get you eventually if you don't do your job. And that job," he took another sip of his Sam Adams and warmed to the subject, "ain't pushing gates to get rich and famous. Now. The underlying principle of Aikido is real simple. There's you," he dropped a couple of droplets of water into the bowl of his spoon, "and there's the universe." He dropped another couple of drops nearby, carefully balancing the spoon so they remained separated.

"The trick with Aikido is to become one with the universe," he allowed the droplets to run together, "so that nothing catches you by surprise. Master that and you can offer an enemy reconciliation instead of battle: The rest is just vigilance and practice."

Margo was staring dubiously at the water droplets. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

She sighed. "Okay. What do I have to do to snuggle up to the universe? Chant `om' a couple thousand times an hour?"

Sven and Kit exchanged glances. Sven's questioning look clearly said, "Are you sure about this?"

Kit's grimace said "Yeah, dammit, wish I could say otherwise."

"Well," Sven said almost tiredly, "no, you don't chant ,om.' There isn't a secret key, some trick that will do it. Either it happens or it doesn't. The way you begin in Aikido is to start by doing wrist exercises." He demonstrated as Julie made her way toward their table with a heaping tray on which their dinner plates had been cast in the starring role. Sven shook out his napkin. "Why don't you practice that while Miss Julie puts that plate of eels and steamed octopus in front of you?"

Margo swung around in her chair. "What?"

Julie dutifully conjured a dish of baby octopus tentacles artistically arranged around the eels swimming in a garlic sauce that brimmed with unidentifiable spices and grated vegetables.

"Oh, my God.. ."

Kit couldn't help it. He started laughing. Sven was already wiping tears.

"C'mon, Margo," Kit teased, "what happened to your brave challenge? I thought you'd try anything I was game to try."

"But ...but..."

"Let me guess," Kit said dryly, "they didn't serve octopus in whatever little town you grew up in?"

Margo was still transfixed by the sight in front of her. The eels, which had been gutted and de-boned, still had their heads, producing the indelible impression that the plateful of slippery food was staring back. She swallowed convulsively. "I, uh ..." She picked up her fork with an air of m determination. "All right. How does one eat them

"That's the spirit," Sven laughed. "The eels, you cut into pieces. The octopi, you eat whole."

She shut her eyes and swallowed again, then tried a bite. She widened her eyes. "Hey, that's good!"

Kit chuckled. "Of course it is. Arley Eisenstein wouldn't serve it, otherwise. Bon appetit."

He dug in with gusto.

True to her word, Margo matched him bite for bite and enjoyed every last morsel.

The best thing Margo could say abort her first lesson with Sven Bailey was that she didn't have to pay for it. The worst thing was, Malcolm Moore showed up to watch. After the first five minutes, she seriously regretted the previous day's sparring session. He enjoyed her utter trouncing far too thoroughly to outlast the brief satisfaction it had given her to show him up. After the first seven minutes, she had more bruises than she'd given Malcolm-and Sven Bailey was just getting warmed up.