by Tom Bane
“Go, Suzy,” someone shouted, “looks like the Orion Correlation Theory is back on!”
“Well, I guess I’m done here,” Brooking muttered.
“I was just trying to help,” Suzy explained, “but you weren’t listening.”
“You are not helping,” Tom said quietly between gritted teeth as he fumbled to collect together his slides, “and I am not listening.” With long strides, he brushed past the students and out the wooden doors into Broad Street.
Suzy looked down from the stage at Piper who was looking very pleased with himself. Suzy walked back to her chair, trying to avoid Kathy’s furious glare.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Suzy had joined the University judo club knowing that it was one of the best. The women’s judo team had beaten Cambridge five times running in the varsity matches. Although Suzy’s black belt was in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, she took to judo without difficulty. The one time Suzy had mentioned Brazilian jiu-jitsu to a group of people in England, the guys were disappointed to find out it wasn’t practiced on the beach in dental floss bikinis and the girls were horrified to hear her describing a choking technique that she found particularly effective. So she had not spoken about it again.
Brazilian jiu-jitsu was practiced on the knees and hips, rolling around on the floor like a ball. Nearly all the techniques were delivered from the ground, many from one’s back. Devised on the mean streets of Rio in the Thirties, when travelling Japanese jiu-jitsu masters had taught a small Brazilian family the secrets of their art, practitioners on the sunny beaches had refined what they had been taught, adapting it to meet their self defense needs in the city’s backwaters. They found nearly all altercations went to the ground sooner or later, and subduing an attacker without injury eliminated a visit to the policia. Quick submissions, choking and strangulation techniques were invaluable. They called it the arte suave, because of its flowing, fluid style and reliance on technique rather than strength, on intelligence rather than brute force.
Suzy had happily settled into the throws and counters of classical judo as a substitute that allowed her to keep fit and meet new friends. She and Kathy attended the classes together and had both gained their green belts one month before, putting them three belts up from a beginner’s white belt. Suzy never told them at the judo club about her black belt from Rio.
That evening, after a late siesta and a quick recap on the day’s lectures, they walked together as usual to the club. They had changed into their judogis, the tough white cotton pajama-like uniforms, and warmed up. The Sensei, the master teacher, then signaled the students to form pairs and practice light randori, or free sparring.
“Rei,” he shouted.
They bowed low from the hips.
“Hajime!” Begin.
On the mat, the judoka fighters circled each other, searching and darting in for a grip, trying to seize a fistful of collar or a loose sleeve. They ricocheted from side to side, smashed and grabbed in a swirling, aggressive dance as they vied for victory, feet swinging low to sweep the legs like Russian Cossack dancers. After twenty minutes they were exhausted. Judo uses every muscle in the body.
Despite the exhaustion Suzy felt exhilarated and ready for more. “Yamae, Yamae,” called out the Sensei.
Out of the corner of her eye, Suzy saw a new joiner entering the mat. He was wearing a brown belt, just one level below the black. She assumed he must be visiting from another dojo. It was bad etiquette and disrespectful to arrive late in judo. The Sensei asked the new guy to do 150 press-ups ostensibly to warm up, but in reality it was a punishment. The others averted their eyes politely, continuing with their throwing and sparring.
“OK, good. Now let’s do some full randori. I want you to concentrate on throwing so I’m changing the rules: the first to get two full points wins, but you do get twenty-five seconds after throwing to execute an arm lock for half a point, or submit your opponent as well if you can.”
Suzy took her first bout against Arthur, one of the club’s strongest black belts. She was high on energy and defended all the takedown attempts until the very last ten seconds when Arthur feinted an uchi mata shoulder throw, then quickly switched to foot-trip her. Then, it was on to her next opponent, the brown belt who had arrived late. Suzy felt her stomach lurch as she glanced up at his face and recognized Dr. Tom Brooking standing before her in a strange-looking white gi. His body was perfectly poised in the pre-bout position but his eyes showed clearly that he recognized her. She tried not to show any facial expression. Why hadn’t she noticed him before? What was he doing here? She forced herself to clear her mind and concentrate on the fight.
“Rei.”
They bowed low to each other and then straightened up. With his greater stature Tom looked down at her. He looked strong and confident of his skills.
“Hajime!”
Suzy bounced on her toes, instilling a sense of aliveness for the fight. She was feeling embarrassed about the way she had shown him up during the lecture and wished she had exercised more self-control. She decided to make it up to him now, although she wasn’t willing to actually lose the fight to him, knowing that would simply feed his arrogance and confirm his prejudice that women were the inferior gender. No, she wanted this bout to end in a draw, a fair match but with no further loss to Tom’s ego. She also wanted him to be left in no doubt that she was more than just a pretty face.
Distracted by her thoughts Suzy missed Tom coming forward with his own foot sweep. She conceded a half-point as her torso smashed into the mat. Her break fall was near perfect. He grinned at her and she realized he was going to be putting his all into this fight, looking for revenge for the humiliation he had suffered at her hands in the lecture hall. She could see that he thought it was going to be an easy victory.
She lunged forward to overpower him but he counterattacked with a double leg takedown, sneaking his head beside her hips and lifting both her feet into the air. Another half-point to Tom.
She pounced again, with an explosive seoinage shoulder throw. Tom deftly stepped to his right and pushed her powerful hips away from him, causing her to lose her grip and stumble.
“Relax,” Suzy reprimanded herself, “Stop thinking. Just fight!”
She bounced rhythmically in front of him, mirroring his movements as she deliberately slowed her adrenalin and took deep breaths. Her eyes drilled through him. Both of them were looking to exploit a weakness or break their opponent’s rhythm. Tom ran forward and grabbed hold of Suzy’s right sleeve; she jerked it away from him.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” she whispered in his ear as she broke his strong grasp.
If she could goad him to lose his cool a little, maybe he would make a mistake. She edged forward and with a snakelike motion of her hands she secured a grip on the underside of his left sleeve and the inside of his collar. Tom tried another foot sweep in response, but Suzy saw it coming and lifted her foot. He tried another and failed again.
“That’s original,” Suzy hissed. All thoughts of facilitating a draw had gone. Now she wanted to defeat him.
Tom smashed her hard and away and she forced herself to grin back at him. He mustn’t know when he was getting to her. They were face to face as Suzy caught a grip on his sleeve and slipped her hand round his waist. He put his right leg around her ankle and hooked his toes round her calf, grapevining her right leg, an illegal technique that halted her throw. The class Sensei had missed the subtle infringement.
“Stop grapevining me,” she hissed.
“What?” Tom didn’t seem to understand what she meant.
“Your toes!”
Tom released his toes so only his calf was around Suzy’s now.
“Can’t you win without cheating?” she sneered.
He didn’t respond, dropping his whole body onto the mat with only his left hand as support, flying sideways, his right leg on the front of her legs, and his left leg positioned behind them like scissor blades, the feared kani basami or “crab claws,” ille
gal in competition but not in club randori free sparring. It could snap her leg like a twig. Suzy’s only option was to relax her legs as she toppled backward. However, the sensei did not give Tom the point as he saw it as bad sportsmanship. She reminded herself to take her time, to wait until he was lying down on the ground, when he would be in her world.
Soon she was stood up, bouncing on her toes again, regulating her breathing, circling her arms around in the air, making it harder for him to catch her sleeve. Suzy stared into the center of his chest. Peripheral vision worked better in fighting, better than fixing vision to the eyes, which gave away your intentions. She could feel the tempo, working to the beat of the fight-drum. If she increased her speed suddenly, and then relapsed into slow motion, she would be able to break his rhythm and enter on a half-beat, like a cobra swaying gently and rhythmically before making its lightning strike mid-beat.
She sidled up slowly, telegraphing her move to Tom’s right hand, his strongest side. She hung her hands low so he could get a grip, making herself an easy target. Tom fell for it. He gripped both her sleeves and hurled his weight left to take her down. She felt his strength and fell backward, letting him overpower her, raising her legs to his hips. Tom found himself balanced precariously above her, like a skydiver on the soles of her feet as she gripped his sleeves tightly.
His arm fell as Suzy let go of his sleeve and instead of going forward he fell sideways as she let her foot slip from his left hip, arcing her left leg around his falling hips, spinning his body. He fell like he’d just hit the ripcord. This was the helicopter armbar. He could never have seen it coming; it was pure Rio jiu-jitsu. Tom’s left arm traveled snugly between Suzy’s legs as he hit the mat. She leaned back and he felt like she was about to snap his elbow in two against her supine body. Suzy pulled back with his thumb pointing to the ceiling and rammed on the armbar, pushing her hips skyward. A professor of anatomy could not have devised a more perfect way of fracturing the joint.
He winced from the searing pain and tapped the mat rapidly three times with his hand.
Half-point to Suzy.
The other students sensed there was something extraordinary happening in their midst and paused in their own fights to watch the final submission. The Sensei raised his eyebrows. A higher ranked brown belt was being defeated by a mere learner, and her technique appeared too fluid to be pure chance.
Tom’s elbow was still working. The submission became painless after a few seconds and only his pride was hurt. He started to bounce smoothly again on his tiptoes to maintain his composure. Suzy returned her gaze to the center of his torso. Tom found it disconcerting that she was not looking straight at him.
“Keep it deceptive,” Suzy told herself, “keep it sublimated.”
She darted in and out, feinting a shoulder throw that she had no intention of completing. She half-completed another, abandoning it through apparent lack of momentum. She wanted Tom to think that a weak shoulder throw was going to be her next technique. She skipped forward and went for her third attempt. Tom had braced his legs hard like a tripod to prevent it, switching rapidly to his own hip throw on Suzy. He had fallen for the bait.
Suzy leaped onto his exposed back with both legs, like a monkey hitching a ride, and leaned sideways. Tom grunted, toppling over, like his ankles had been chain sawed by a lumberjack.
THWACK
Suzy was fully mounted on his back with her legs hooked behind his knees. In one fluid motion she had established control. Her right arm wove around his neck. She grooved her right hand into the hook of her left elbow, encircling his throat like an anaconda, pressing her elbows in. Tom felt the pressure from her left hand on the back of his head—this was the mata leao, the “kill the lion” an unbeatable stranglehold from the streets of Brazil. After just five seconds, Tom patted Suzy’s thigh three times to signal defeat. Half a point to Suzy. Now she was even. The race was on to get two full points!
Everybody else in the hall had stopped fighting, eyes glued to the contest, and had formed a ring around the two opponents. Kathy’s eyes darted between Suzy and Tom, not knowing which of them she wanted to see triumph.
Tom bulldozed forward and wrapped his arms around Suzy’s waist, a technique with zero finesse. The Sensei frowned, but he felt a little sympathy for Tom’s predicament, a large male brown belt being bested by a slightly built green belt. Tom stood with his chest pressed to her face, his clenched arms encircling her torso, pinning her arms to her sides in a bear hug. He tried to trip her to the mat with his right leg.
She motioned upward, taking both her feet off the floor. She encircled both her thighs around his waist and she hugged him back with her legs, wrapping them tightly around his kidneys and squeezing with all her supple might. Tom felt the excruciating pain as his kidneys were crushed by her calf muscles. Suzy’s technique was a legitimate one but he had never seen it used before.
Tom grunted, unprepared for Suzy’s next move as she let go with her hands and bent backward, breaking his grip. He smacked onto the floor with his knees as he fell forward, his waist clamped between her slim, strong legs. But she was on her back, a weak position in judo. With her legs encircling his body, he was almost lying on top of her and Tom was horribly aware of the others in the room watching.
It had to be hurting Tom. He needed to overcome the pain of her legs pressing into his kidneys. He yanked his left arm out and brought it underneath her leg to try and escape. His adrenalin and pride were the only forces keeping him going.
Sliding his free left arm up and under her right leg he hitched it onto his shoulder, getting himself some leverage, a moment of respite. Now he would pull his right arm out from her vise-like leg grip, freeing himself.
The trap was set. Hoisting her left leg up past his head she placed her right foot into the crook behind her left knee, encircling his head with her legs, Tom’s head was now locked in between her loins. With both her legs now coiled around his neck, Suzy lay back and casually brushed the hair away from her face as if for a photo opportunity, deliberately adding insult to injury and making Kathy frown. Tom could not move his head out from her legs and his pulse was racing. Get out of there, get out! Escape! Escape!
The blood was draining from his head and her leg muscles tensed around his throat and carotid arteries, the third fulcrum made up of her loins thrusting up into his face. She nonchalantly synched the stranglehold further by pressing his right shoulder into his own neck. He was literally choking himself!
No man, no matter how strong, could escape this. Her legs were ten times more powerful than his neck muscles. Tom was a victim of the slow-burning and infamous sankaku jime, an ancient technique for disposing of a standing samurai who came forward with his katana sword to kill his opponent once he had felled him to the ground. As he powered his sword in for the kill he would find himself instead being choked by the legs of his intended victim.
Suzy tidied her hair again and adjusted her lapel badge. If Tom had used more finesse than a front bear hug, she would have let it end more gracefully for him, but she was no longer feeling remotely merciful, despite the fact that, as she looked around the spectators, she could see Kathy glowering at her once more.
Don’t go unconscious, Tom told himself, don’t give in, don’t black out. He fought desperately to free his right arm, which was tunneling onto his neck. Thump, thump, thump—his heartbeat reverberated in his ears. He still had some oxygen. He had to wait and let her release first. Her thighs must tire soon. Keep going, keep going, resist …
“MATAE, MATAE,” shouted the Sensei.
Suzy had run out of time. Twenty-five seconds was the rule to apply a submission in judo and Tom had managed to hold on. She rolled backward over her head, stood up and bowed. The Sensei winked at her. In judo, victory was less important; it was the way you fought that mattered. Tom was panting heavily as he lay face down on the mat for a few moments before finding the strength to stand and bow.
“YAMAE!” shouted the Sensei.
It was a draw, but it had been a hell of a fight. David had almost defeated Goliath. The others all smiled at Suzy in admiration. All except Kathy who wasn’t amused.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Suzy had been up most of the night turning embryonic thoughts over and over in her mind. The following morning, with her doctorate research idea now taking shape, she practically skipped along the pavement on her way to the Griffith Institute. The adrenalin of finding herself on the track of something enormous was keeping her going. It was like she could see her way forward clearly for the first time. Her one aim now was to get Professor Piper on her side. Without his agreement she could not progress with her plan and she was aware that he might not give it easily.
Suzy rang the buzzer on the polished red door.
“Yes?” A vague, distorted voice crackled through the intercom.
“Suzy da Silva for Professor Piper.” Suzy replied eagerly.
“Come up, come up!”
The door lock released and Suzy bounded up the stairs and through the Professor’s open door.
“Ah, good morning, Suzy, just in time.” Piper glanced up briefly, sitting in his usual chair with his feet up on an antique footstool, the stuffing hanging out of it. He was concentrating on a bundle of papers in his lap. “The kettle’s boiling.”
“Morning, Professor,” Suzy said, dumping her bag beside the other chair and making her way to the kitchen area where two delicate bone china cups stood waiting with tea bags in them. She remembered from her last visit that he liked his teabag left in to make the tea as strong as possible. She poured the boiling water into the cups, flicked her own teabag into the bin, added a dash of milk to each and brought them over to him.
“Bless you, my dear,” he said absent-mindedly, his eyes still on his papers. “Take a seat.”
She settled herself down and looked around as she waited. The room was big but felt cramped because of all the shelves packed with jumbled tomes, journals and papers stacked high, many of the piles leaning precariously. There were oil paintings and prints hanging on every spare inch of the walls and others were propped up on the floor waiting for a place to be found in the chaos.
