Remo cocked an eyebrow. "Never heard of him. And I'd be surprised if they really heard of him on the moon either. "
Chiun shook his head for emphasis. "Master Shang," he insisted. "He is known as the Master who walked to the moon."
"Oh, that explains it," Remo said. "I knew the Masters in the old days didn't have spaceships but naturally they didn't need them 'cause they just walked to the moon."
"I will ignore your insolence except to point out that absolute certainty is generally the refuge of the nincompoop."
"Nincompoop or not, the first man on the moon was Neil Armstrong and he was an American and that is an absolute certainty. And why are we talking about the moon? We were talking about things that you know and I don't and it's pretty obvious now that you know absolutely nothing about the moon," Remo said. "Less than nothing."
"I will tell you the story of Master Shang," Chiun said. "It was in the days of the Han dynasty in China. Master Shang was the ruling Master in those days but he was not a great Master, except for this one feat.
"Now Master Shang often performed services for the Emperor of China in those days. This was when the Chinese could generally be counted on to pay their bills and before they became the pack of beggars and thieves they are today. At any rate, this Chinese emperor's throne was sore beset by enemies, princelings and pretenders who coveted his gold and his women, for he had a queen and many concubines, that being the tradition among emperors of China at the time, they always being a licentious and immoral people.
"Master Shang made the arduous journey from the village of Sinanju on the West Korea Bay to this emperor's court to eliminate some foe or another but each time he obliterated an enemy of the throne, more enemies would spring up.
"One day, Master Shang said to the emperor, 'Lo, but your enemies wax like the stars in the September sky. Each year I am summoned to dispatch them and each following year their numbers increase.'
"The emperor replied, 'Is this not good, because then you have more work from my court?'
" 'No,' said Shang. 'This is bad, for soon the court of China will have more enemies than subjects.'
"The Emperor of China thought on this and said, 'What is your suggestion, Master of Sinanju?' "
Chiun paused to take the stone from Remo's hands and to set it on the floor between them.
"Then the Master Shang told the emperor, 'Take the women of your enemies into your court. Make them yours and thus, by blood, your enemies will become your relatives.'
"The emperor considered this for a day and a night. Then he answered, 'Your idea has merit, Master of Sinanju. But what shall I do with my concubines? Already they overflow the royal palace.'
" 'Set them free,' said the Master of Sinanju, who had looked with favor upon one of the emperor's concubines. 'It may be I will accept one of them in payment for my services.'
"And so the Emperor of China did this and set his concubines free and one of the women, who was called Yee, became the property of the Master of Sinanju and returned to our village with Master Shang."
"All's well that ends well," Remo said. "She must have been a beaut if the women you have there today look anything like she did."
"Nothing ended well," Chiun said. "Upon his return, Master Shang was reviled for daring to take a Chinese woman for his own. For everyone knew then, as now, that the Chinese are unclean people with bad teeth and worse dispositions and while it is permitted to work for them, one must never sleep with one.
"But the Master Shang was smitten and what could he do? This woman, this Yee, became demanding in her ways, having been spoiled by the richness of the emperor's palace. She could not fully appreciate the magnificent simplicity of Sinanju. Her insistence upon baubles grew vexing to Shang.
"Yee would ask for emeralds and Shang would give them. She would ask for rubies and they would be in her hand. Yee would ask for-"
"There's a word for Shang's problem," Remo said.
"What is that?" Chiun asked.
"Pussy-whipped," Remo said.
"You have the ability to be gross even in moments of ultimate pathos," Chiun said. "One day, Shang saw that the treasure house of Sinanju was growing empty and he went to Yee and told her, 'My wealth is less but I am the greater for your presence,' although in truth he found this woman was becoming a bother.
"One day, Yee said, 'I want something no emperor or Master has.' And Shang grew angry. 'I have given you diamonds and rubies and emeralds and pearls. What more could you ask?'
"Yee thought long as she looked at Shang and beyond the Master she saw something bright and shiny in the night sky and a sly smile came over her avaricious pancake-flat Chinese excuse for a face."
"No editorial comments, please," Remo said. "The legend and nothing but the legend. I want to be out of here today. "
"You can leave now," Chiun said.
"The story," Remo said.
"Legend," Chiun corrected. "So the avaricious Yee told the Master Shang that she wanted just one more thing and if he could not provide it, would she then be free to return to her people. And Shang finally understood what had been concealed from him all along: that Yee did not love him but only the things he could give her. But he also understood that he still loved her and so he gave her his promise. 'What is it you wish, my wife?'
"And Yee pointed beyond him into the night sky.
" 'That,' she said.
" 'The moon? No one can give you the moon. It is impossible. You are trying to trick me.'
" 'I will settle for a piece of the moon. A piece no bigger than my fist. Is this so much to ask?'
"Shang was beside himself for days. He did not sleep, he did not eat, for he was in love and at length he decided that if he wished to keep Yee as his wife, he must try.
"What a dork," Remo said.
"Silence," Chiun commanded. "So one clear night with a walking stick and a pack on his pack, Master Shang set out to walk to the moon. He walked north, beyond Korea, beyond the colder lands above Korea, always keeping the moon before him. He reasoned that where the moon set would be his goal. For wherever the moon went by day, he would find it.
"Master Shang walked and walked until he ran out of land on which to walk, and so he made for himself a boat and betook himself north in that boat. He ran out of food, he ran out of water to drink. There were strange animals in the water and bears who swam and were the color of snow.
"Finally, Master Shang, sick with hunger, sailed into a cold sea where the sun never set. He thought himself dead and doomed to sail the Void through eternity. Until his boat reached a strange land.
"Now this land was white, with mountains of snow. Everywhere there was snow and under it rock. The days passed and still the sun did not set but only hung low in the tired sky. There was no moon in the sky. Shang waited for days but it did not appear. And it was then that the Master of Sinanju knew that he had reached his goal."
Chiun lowered his voice to a respectful hush. "And so the legend tells us, he had walked to the moon.
"Master Shang ate the meat of the white swimming bear and broke off a rock the size of Yee's fist from a mountain of the moon. And with extra meat in his ration pouch, he sailed back from the land of the moon.
"When, months later, he returned to the village of Sinanju, he told Yee, 'I have brought you a rock of the moon. I have kept my promise.'
"And Yee accepted the rock and his story, although she cried because she knew she would never see her homeland again. Her days were not long after this and in the end, Master Shang was stricken by grief and he too died. But not in shame, for he had done a wondrous thing. And to remind future Masters of the lesson of Shang, the rock you hold in your hands, Remo, has been passed from generation to generation."
Chiun smiled benignly.
"Do you understand, Remo?"
"Chiun, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but Shang didn't walk to the moon."
Chiun looked at Remo with an unhappy glare. "You do not understand," he said sadly.<
br />
"He walked to the North Pole," Remo said. "The white swimming bears were polar bears. And at the North Pole, the sun doesn't set for six months every year. That's why it never got dark," Remo said.
"You disappoint me, Remo," said Chiun, taking away the rock of Master Shang. "I will have to keep this until you have learned the lesson of Shang. It is sad."
"All right. Time out," Remo said. "Answer me this. If Shang did walk to the moon, why isn't he considered a great Master? Answer me that. After all, it's not everybody who can walk to the moon."
"Shang is not greatly honored for a simple reason," said Chiun evenly. "He married a Chinese and this is just not done. Had he not partly atoned by walking to the moon, he would have been totally stricken from the records of Sinanju."
The telephone rang and Chiun said, "It is Emperor Smith."
"How do you know?"
"It is simple. I am here. You are here. Smith is not here. Therefore, it is Smith."
"Very good," Remo said. "What else can you foresee?" Chiun put his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes as if peering into the future.
"I can see who will answer the phone," he said.
"Yeah? Who?"
"You, Remo."
"How do you know that?"
"It is simple," said Chiun, opening his eyes. "Because I am not going to. Heh, heh. Because I am not going to."
"Very funny," said Remo and walked across the room to answer the telephone.
"All right, Smitty. It's your dime," he said pleasantly.
"Remo?" Smith's voice was sharp. "I was calling Chiun."
"So you got me. Don't sound so disappointed. Chiun's not answering phones at the moment."
"What are you doing in Detroit? Where were you at two o'clock this afternoon?"
"With Chiun, at some car exhibition. Smitty, did you know there's a guy running around calling himself by my name?"
"Let me speak with Chiun, Remo," Smith said.
Remo tossed the phone to Chiun, who snatched it from the air and announced, "Hail, Emperor Smith. Your fears are groundless for Remo is with me and all is well."
Remo listened to Chiun's side of the conversation patiently. Normally, even from across a room, he could hear both sides of a phone call, but Chiun had the earpiece so tightly pressed against his head that Remo could not hear anything but the old man's voice.
"I cannot explain," Chiun said. "Not now. Rest assured, all will be rectified in time. Yes. No more carriagemakers will die. You have the word of the Master of Sinanju and you need no other assurances," Chiun said curtly, then hung up.
"What was that all about?" Remo asked.
"Emperor's business," Chiun said.
"Are we back to that again? Come on, Chiun. Tell me what's going on."
Chiun waved for Remo to sit and Remo lowered himself reluctantly to the floor.
"My son, you trust the Master who made you whole, do you not?"
"You know I do," Remo said.
"Then I call upon you to listen to that trust. Emperor Smith wants you to return to Folcroft. Do this. I will join you in a day. Two at most. Trust me, Remo. There are some things you should not yet know. This is one of them."
Remo sighed. "I will do as you say."
"Good," said Chiun. "Now go. I have much to do."
"I hope Smith thanked you for saving those two guys' lives today when that gunman opened fire," Remo said.
"Thanks are not necessary. It is part of my mission."
"And what's the other part?"
Chiun silently rose and placed the moon rock back into one of his steamer trunks.
He would not answer, Remo knew, so he walked to the door, but in the doorway, paused.
"Chiun. That guy with my name? Is he the reason you and Smith are so upset?"
"No," said Chiun, although it hurt him to lie to his pupil. But it was as he said. There were some things that Remo was better off not knowing.
Chapter 12
The President was disturbed; Smith could tell by his language.
"What the heck is going on, Smith? You assured me that Drake Mangan would be protected and he's dead. Now somebody tries to kill Revell and Millis too."
"We had protection there," said Smith. "Something's just gone wrong."
"Gone wrong? You're not supposed to have anything go wrong. How is that possible?"
"I'm not sure," Smith said.
The President's voice was cracking. "Not sure? Are you telling me that you can't control your people? I hope you're not telling me that because I'm tempted to give you a certain order. You know the one I mean."
"That is your decision, sir," said Smith, "but I think it would be a mistake at this time. And I've been assured that no more Detroit executives will be lost."
"They don't grow on trees," said the President. "We've lost Mangan and I don't want to lose any more."
"If you have no specific orders for me, Mr. President, I must return to monitoring the situation."
There was a heavy silence over the safe line to Washington and for a long moment, Smith thought that the order to disband was coming. Instead, the President said, "Well, okay, Smith. Do your best. What the heck. Nobody got killed today so I guess that's something and who knows, tomorrow might be better. It usually is."
"I hope so, Mr. President," said Smith as he hung up. Was the President correct? Smith wondered. Would things be better? Or were they so far out of control now that nothing could mend them? Chiun had just assured him that Remo was not the Detroit assassin, but why was Remo in Detroit in the first place? How had Remo found Chiun so quickly? Was it possible that the two of them were working together, at cross-purposes to Smith?
If there were one more death, Smith knew the President would dissolve CURE. He had always been prepared for that day. There was a poison pill that he would unhesitatingly take and a coffin ready to receive his body. A simple computer command would erase all the CURE files and Smith's final order would be to Chiun: eliminate Remo and return to Sinanju. There would be no trace of CURE's existence after that.
Well, one trace, Smith thought. One large one. America still survived, but no one would suspect that a secret agency had ever been responsible for that.
A chilling thought flashed into Smith's mind. Could he trust Chiun to eliminate Remo upon command? If not, then what would happen without Smith to control the two deadliest assassins in human history?
He shuddered and brought up his computer link.
Chiun had assured him that Remo would return to Folcroft immediately. That would at least be a sign that things were still in order. Smith logged onto the main computer net that recorded all flight reservations in and out of Detroit. The names and destinations began scrolling up. Smith stopped the file when he recognized the name Remo Cochran. It was one of Remo's cover identities. And Remo Cochran had confirmed reservations on a Detroit-New York flight.
Good. Now all that had to happen was for Remo Williams to walk through the gates of Folcroft Sanitarium. Then, and only then, would Smith feel that the situation was under control.
Remo drove to Detroit City Airport, turned in the keys to his rental car, and reminded the counter clerk to keep the other three vehicles, unused, in the lot for the next three months. "Just in case," he said.
Then Remo bought a one-way ticket to New York City on Midwest-North Central-McBride-Johnson-Friendly Air, which until its most recent merger five minutes before had been Midwest-North Central-McBride-Johnson Airways. The flight was delayed an hour so that crews could quickly repaint the new name on the plane, so Remo bought three newspapers and threw away the news, sports, and business sections and began reading the comics.
It took him twenty minutes to read the comics because he didn't understand them. When he was growing up, comic strips featured funny characters doing funny things. Now they seemed to be about what people ate for breakfast and how so-and-so needed a different haircut. Maybe someone someday, Remo thought, might do a comic strip that was funny again. Would an
yone read it? Or had the world grown too tired for funny comic strips?
He threw away the comics and the front-page headline of one of the papers he had thrown away caught his eye. It read: "GUNMAN ATTACKS AUTOMAKERS; COPS HINT IDENTITY IS KNOWN."
Remo picked up the news sections of the three papers and read them. Each had basically the same story: a gunman had attacked Revell and Millis earlier that day but was not successful. Police said that the gunman appeared to be the same one who had wounded Lyle Lavallette earlier in the week and said he had apparently entered the press-conference area with false press credentials. While police would not release the name the gunman used, it was apparently the same name he had used earlier when Lavallette was wounded at the Detroit Plaza.
Next to the story on the shootings was another which told how Lyle Lavallette had invented an automobile which got its power from household refuse and the Maverick Genius of the Auto Industry had proclaimed this the end of the Detroit gas-burners.
When Remo put the newspapers down, his face wore a stricken expression. The gunman who had attacked today had struck three days ago-while Remo was out in the desert-and had used the name Remo Williams at that time too. Why hadn't Chiun told him? What were Chiun and Smith trying to keep from him?
Remo ripped the articles from the paper and jammed them into his pocket.
"I thought you were leaving town," the rental agent said when Remo reappeared at the booth.
"Changed my mind," Remo said. "I'm going to take one of my three cars. Give me the keys."
"Fine, sir. Here they are. Would you like to rent a replacement car to leave in the lot?"
"No. The two I've got there should be enough. I need directions to American Automobiles."
"Just take the Parkway west. You'll see the signs," the clerk said.
Remo nodded and left the airport. He was so angry that, as he drove, his fingers dug into the warm plastic of the steering wheel as if it were taffy. Chiun had lied to him. There was something going on, something that both Chiun and Smith were hiding from him. But what could it be? Who was this gunman who was using his name? Remo could have gotten him today if it had not been for Chiun grabbing Remo's ankle and preventing him from giving chase.
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