"They aren't here now. It's just you and me."
"You know why you hate me so much, Mr. Garibaldi? It's not anything I've done to you, like you pretend. It's because I know too much. I'm the only one who knows how dirty you are in there, in your private little hell. I've seen it all, and you can't stand the idea of anyone walking around who has even had a peek at it."
"I didn't make you anything you weren't. In fact, I had to do remarkably little to turn you against Sheridan. You always resented him. You resent anyone who's stronger than you, with more strength of character than you. Like Sheridan. Like me." Garibaldi was favoring his arm-and badly.
"Don't even say your name in the same breath as his."
"You know it's true. Congratulations, by the way-I see you've had my Asimov removed. Lyta? Of course, Lyta. Only she would have been strong enough. Funny, Mr. Garibaldi, how your bigotry takes a backseat when it serves your own interests. Letting another dirty telepath into your mind must have been-"
Garibaldi lunged, and Bester was ready. After all, he had been living and fighting with only one arm for almost half a century. Garibaldi, for all of his size and training, was clumsy.
Bester sidestepped, snapped a hard jab into Garibaldi's wounded shoulder. The ex-security chief choked out half a scream, which cut off when Bester snapped a vicious knife-hand into the base of his skull. Garibaldi dropped to the pavement.
"What, did you think this would be easy, Mr. Garibaldi? You have to work for revenge. I could tell you things..."
Garibaldi was on his hands and knees, coughing. Bester kicked him as hard as he could, angling his toe up to catch the solar plexus.
* * *
Garibaldi felt ribs crack and tasted blood