"He was going to hit me while I wasn't looking!"

While I gaped for the breath, I discovered that a man in white stood between me and Brick. Somehow I hadn't seem him arrive he was just there. He had his back to me, but after my heart thudded a couple of times I figured out that he was Master Song Duk Soon.

"Mr. Brick," he said in a voice like the head of a hammer, "the conduct of your team is disgraceful. He provoked the conflict."

Oh, good. Now I had two crazy instructors on my hands.

None of the karate-ka and spectators crowding around seemed likely to back me up. They wanted more action. I was on my own.

Unless I used the cell phone.

"Master," the beaten kid quavered.

"He insulted me the whole match. He insulted you. He called Tae Kwon Do 'a toy martial art."

" Some of the spectators laughed which made the kid's flush worse.

Others muttered disapproval.

As soon as I caught my breath, I'd say, Hell, kid, they're all toys.

But I wasn't ready yet. I still didn't know how seriously I was hurt.

Master Soon stood with the same explosive ease I'd seen earlier.

"The words of a contemptible opponent are equally contemptible," he pronounced. Then he added to Nelson Brick, "Your student is a fool. He repeats what he was taught."

I thought Brick might attack again. He didn't look anywhere near as relaxed as Soon. But then a familiar voice interrupted us.

"All right, everybody," Parker Neill called out, "break it up, break it up." He seemed to disperse the crowd just by flapping his hands.

"It's all over. Nothing's wrong. Get ready for your next events."

Ned Gage accompanied him. While Parker waved away the spectators, the head referee placed himself between Soon and Brick.

I was off the hook.

The glint in Gage's eyes looked like humor, but it may've been eagerness.

"Master Soon," he said calmly, "Brick sensei, your teams are disqualified. I won't allow fighting outside the rings."

Since no one was looking at me now, I probed the pain in my stomach. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. And I didn't feel any dampness.

Apparently my scars had been stretched, not torn.

"Wait a goddamn minute, Gage," Brick blustered.

"The whole team? That's not fair. My guy was just talking. He didn't break any rules."

I couldn't tell what Song Duk Soon felt. Whatever it was, he didn't show it.

Gage grinned amiably.

"I'm the Director of Referees here. Shall I disqualify your whole school instead?"

"We're going to win this event!" Brick protested.

"If I disqualify the whole school," Gage continued, "you'll lose your IAMA membership." He sounded happier by the minute.

"You won't get it back until you take one of our seminars on sportsmanship."

To my surprise, Brick looked away.

"Where's Sternway?" he demanded.

"I'm not going to put up with this.

"And I'm not" he jabbed a finger in my direction "going to put up with assholes from the audience interfering when my guys try to defend themselves."

I flexed my fists, working the pain out of my right arm.

Ned Gage widened his grin, matching Master Soon's relaxation.

"Mr. Sternway won't help you, Brick sensei." Now he made the title sound like mockery.

"We all saw what happened. The situation would've been worse if Mr.

Axbrewder hadn't intervened so quickly. You owe him an apology."

Parker nodded like a man who'd seen it all before.

"Ha!" Brick snorted.

"That'll be the day."

But he didn't go rushing off to find Sternway. I guess he believed Gage in spite of himself. I sure as hell believed him. If there hadn't been so many witnesses, I might've kissed his feet.

Still, I wanted some of my own back. Before Brick could move away, I drawled, "Listen, bozo. Maybe you have your own school. Maybe you're a world-class 'martial artist." But as far as I'm concerned, you're just a fat thug in uncomfortable pajamas. Where I come from, we snack on guys like you. Hit me again, and I'll break your arms."

I'd broken Estobal's neck just hours after he shot me.

"Try it sometime." Brick aimed a nasty glare at me, but it turned hesitant when he saw the look on my face.

"By the way," he added roughly, "these aren't pajamas. They're called a gi. You should remember that."

Then he reached out and grabbed a handful of his student's canvas.

"Come on, boy. You're going to explain to the rest of your team how you got them disqualified."

Jerking the young man along, he stomped away toward a cluster of scarlet gis nearby.

The action in the rings continued as if nothing had happened. Yells and padded blows punctuated the tension. Parker Neill shrugged and left. Gage waggled his eyebrows at me like a humorous salute before turning his attention back to the tournament.