"Probably." Kesley remembered the time van Alen had broken Kesley's grip in the Iowa farmhouse, had removed Kesley's hands from his throat as if he were a child. "But while you're doing that, I push the knife in. You don't have a chance. Will you dictate the abdication?"
"I've ruled here three hundred sixty years and more," van Alen said. "It's not easy to give up a throne in a moment after so long."
Again Kesley dug the knife in. This time, a few drops of blood trickled down, staining van Alen's broad collar. Immortal blood.
Sweat mingled with the blood droplets on van Alen's throat. "I agree to terms," he said hoarsely. "Snap on the recorder on my desk."
Kesley looked suspiciously at the knob mounted in the cabinet. "If this is a trick--"
Kesley backed across the room without releasing his grip on van Alen, and spun the noble around. "Reach down and snap on the recorder yourself. I'll be ready with the knife if anything strange happens. Then start to talk."
Van Alen shifted the position of the stud with an extended finger. A faint hum resulted; otherwise, nothing happened. Kesley relaxed just a trifle.
Van Alen said: "People of Antarctica, hear and believe this message.
"Today, in the three hundred sixty-second year of my rule, I am giving up my throne.
"I turn it over to the man named Dale Kesley--like myself an Immortal. He will rule you wisely and well, I am sure, and will lead you to greatnesses I never dared to attain.
Van Alen shut the machine off. "There," he said. "When I touch the spiral lever, the message will be beamed on wide circuit to the entire continent. The robots will shift allegiance to you at once; the place will be yours."
Van Alen reached out--but as he nudged the control, a bright green beam licked out suddenly. Acting instinctively, Kesley jabbed at the Duke's throat with the knife.
The knife had been whisked from his hand the instant the beam had shot forth.
Van Alen turned, easily extricating his imprisoned arm from Kesley's numbed grasp. His fist crashed into Kesley's stomach, rocking him backward.
_Cheated!_ Kesley thought wildly. He recalled an earlier, forgotten resolution never to have dealings with Dukes again.
Mechanically he raised a fist to defend himself. Van Alen's attack drove through, and blows thudded against his face and chest. He tried to fight back; he hit van Alen glancingly on the shoulder, struck for his midsection. Another blow sent him staggering away.