Smith was loath to leave the topic of Anna Chutesov, but for the moment they were at an impasse. And Remo was right. Right now Vladimir Zhirinsky was the more immediate threat.
"I will issue orders to the Moscow police to pick up Zhirinsky," Smith sighed.
"You might want to hold off on that," Remo suggested. "Anna seemed pretty sure that a lot of people might throw in with him, including law enforcement. She was afraid to even have the SUV come in on this."
"SVR," Smith said. "They are successor to the KGB."
"Whatever they are, they can't be trusted," Remo said. "You better let me and Chiun take care of him. Except we can't go right now because we've got a bunch of Sinanju thieves and their Master to track down up here, and maybe a moldy old Sinanju prophecy to deal with in the bargain."
"Huh," Smith mused. "It was the SVR that I had ordered to watch Zhirinsky. Ms. Chutesov is probably correct about their divided loyalties. I will pull them off."
Even as he spoke, he reached for his desk. An alphanumeric keyboard appeared as if by magic beneath his summoning fingers. Typing swiftly, he began issuing the surreptitious orders that would suspend the surveillance orders on Vladimir Zhirinsky.
"See, Smitty?" Remo said as the CURE director worked. "She's coming in handy already."
Smith allowed the remark to pass.
"We cannot allow a lunatic like Zhirinsky to excite militaristic passions in the Russian people," the CURE director said as he typed. "The former Red Army is a shambles. For defense, Russia is relying almost exclusively on its nuclear arsenal. Even a small force operating on American soil could cause a destabilizing chain reaction with cataclysmic effects."
"Not a problem," Remo replied. "The first ten weren't anything special. Some glorified karate moves and camo suits to help them hide. We'll pull the plug on however many are left and then take a spin back to Russia for Zhirinsky."
Smith was only half listening. Peering down at his angled desk monitor, his gray face had grown troubled.
"That might prove difficult," he said. "Zhirinsky has apparently disappeared." Eyes of flint-gray scanned the translated report he had accessed from the SVR's Moscow mainframes. "It would seem he became aware of SVR interest in him and fled. His whereabouts are currently unknown."
"Sounds like they tipped him off," Remo said.
In the silence of his office, Smith nodded. "So it would seem," the CURE director agreed. Determination clenched his jaw. "We will attempt to find him from here. Mark has discovered the alias he used to travel to San Francisco earlier in the week. Perhaps he will use the same name again. In any event you and Chiun have work to do."
"Smitty?" Remo said as the older man was hanging up.
Smith returned the phone to his ear. "What?"
"You didn't know Anna was still alive," Remo began. "You didn't even know we bumped into her in Barkley, right?"
"That's true," Smith conceded.
"So what made you even think it after all this time?"
Smith placed a cautious, flat palm to the surface of his desk. "While conducting research into Vladimir Zhirinsky, Mark accessed some of our old Russia-related files. He found Anna's name among the data."
"So what?" Remo asked. "That still doesn't mean anything. She should have just been a name on a page to him. How did he know she wasn't really dead?"
The CURE director grew uneasy. He was grateful Remo was thousands of miles away and unable to see the disturbed expression that had taken root on his patrician face.
"Upon reading the details of her death, Mark had a hunch," Smith explained. He quickly added, "Now please excuse me. We both have work to do." Before Remo could pry any more, the CURE director hung up the phone.
A shadow of concern formed a brief knot in the old man's brow. Feeling sudden empathy for the lifelong efforts Mark Howard had gone through to hide his gift from the world, Harold Smith turned slowly to his computer, a thoughtful expression on his lean face.
Chapter 21
The Master of Sinanju posed imperiously on the airport tarmac. Beside him, Anna Chutesov watched the fuel line that was feeding the Kamov's hungry tanks.
No one seemed interested in the odd-looking helicopter, which was licensed to a private geological surveying company.
Chiun had been careful not to make his suspicions about Anna known to Remo, lest some misguided sense of chivalry cause him to come to the defense of his former concubine. When Remo left to phone Smith, the old man waited until he was well out of earshot before turning his attention to Anna.
"You know more than you are admitting," Chiun announced bluntly. His eyes beneath the brim of his hat were accusing.
Anna was studying the helicopter refueling. "Why am I not surprised that you would be suspicious of me?"
"Because you are not stupid," Chiun replied. "And it is in your nature to lie when it suits you. Just as it is in my son's nature to be too trusting. Especially when it comes to you. You blind him to your deceptions."
The smile that brushed Anna Chutesov's pale cheeks was sad. "You invest too much power in me," she said softly. "The time when that might have been true was long ago."
Years before Anna Chutesov had been able to manipulate the many men who worshiped her. But by rejecting her, Remo had changed all that. Blue eyes grew wistful at the memory.
"It is not your wiles, but Remo's sentimentality that is the problem," Chiun insisted. "He sees you for what he thinks you were. If only he could see you for but a moment through my eyes." His face remained impassive. "He would blame me if any harm were to befall you by my hand, so I cannot force the truth from you. Therefore you may keep your silly secret, on one condition. Tell me if Remo is at risk."
Anna considered for a long moment. At last she relented, her shoulders sinking almost imperceptibly. "The only immediate risk to either of you is that which I have already told you," she admitted quietly.
Chiun could see she was telling the truth. Accepting her words with a nod of his bald head, he turned back to face the helicopter. Wind whipped the skirts of his kimono.
Anna was relieved when he pried no further. Eyes of ice turned from the Master of Sinanju, facing once more the Kamov.
"You have both changed since last I knew you," she said softly. As she spoke, she still did not turn to the old man.
Chiun took a few seconds to reply.
"Remo is no longer the child he once was," the tiny Asian admitted. "He has achieved the level of full Master."
"Ah," Anna said, nodding. "That is why you cede authority to him. How long ago did he succeed you as Reigning Master?"
Chiun's jaw clenched. His sliver of beard whipped wildly in the wind. "He has not yet assumed the mantle of Reigning Master," he admitted tightly.
Anna glanced, curious, at the old Korean. "I do not wish to offend, but should he not have done so by now? After all, at your age..." She let her voice trail off.
But Chiun was through answering her questions. "These are private matters, not to be discussed with outsiders," he said stiffly. "Remo's former concubine or not, if you wish to keep your tongue, I would advise you to keep your theories of Sinanju succession to yourself."
He offered the Russian agent his frail back. The old man stared out across the airport, a figure of ancient wisdom lost in deep thought. The darkness of the long and lingering Alaska winter night weighed heavy on his bony shoulders.
It was clear she had inadvertently struck a raw nerve. Biting her lip, she left the old man to his private thoughts.
Ten minutes later the fuel line was just being detached when Remo appeared through a side door in one of the low terminal outbuildings. He hurried to rejoin Anna and Chiun.
"I talked to Smith," he said, his voice tense. "Looks like Zhirinsky's pulled a disappearing act." Anna's expression made it clear that this was in no way good news.
"How long has he been gone?" she asked.
"Don't know. Didn't ask. Does it matter?"
"It does, depending on where he is going
," she said, her tone troubled. "You were careful to keep me out of your discussions with your Dr. Smith?"
Remo grew sheepish. "Well..." he said.
Anna's voice grew flat. "You didn't," she accused.
"I didn't," Remo said quickly. He just as quickly reconsidered. "I guess I sort of did. But only after he did it first. Smitty's got this new assistant, Anna. Somehow the little nit figured out you weren't dead." Chiun's curiosity was piqued. "How did Prince Mark divine such a thing?"
"I dunno." Remo shrugged. "Probably just dumb luck." When he turned to Anna, he found that the Russian agent's beautiful face had taken on a cavedin look. "Don't sweat it, Anna," he said. "I told him that Chiun and I are hands-off in the killing-you department. When this is over, I'll talk him into letting us go back to our old arrangement."
Anna shook her head. "Things have changed too much since then," she said. Her soft words seemed spoken only for herself. Ice-blue eyes sought the imperious face of the Master of Sinanju.
Remo would have said more, but they were interrupted by the Kamov's pilot. The man was scurrying down from the helicopter cockpit. His face urgent, he approached Anna, spouting a stream of Russian while he ran.
He was barely finished before she was turning on the others. Her face remained without a hint of emotion.
"There has been another massacre," Anna said dully. "A small town to the west of here."
"How long ago?" Remo demanded.
"Apparently it is happening right now," Anna replied. "One of the townspeople has radioed for help." Expression still flat, she turned to her pilot, issuing a few brief Russian commands. The man turned and ran back for the Kamov.
"I forgot to ask before," Remo said as the engine coughed to life. "How many of these guys are there?" He was surprised by her answer.
"Nearly 150," Anna said, her tone lifeless.
"Looks like our work's cut out for us, Little Father," Remo said tightly.
The Master of Sinanju offered a sharp nod of agreement. Hiking up his kimono skirts, he hurried to the waiting Kamov.
The wobbly rotors had just begun to slice the chill air.
Remo began to follow his teacher, but paused. Anna still appeared to be shell-shocked.
"Don't worry," he vowed softly to her. "You're safe as long as I'm around." Giving her a reassuring smile, he turned and ran for the helicopter.
Alone for a moment, Anna shut her tired eyes.
Blocking out the cold, the wind and the growing roar of the Kamov.
"No, Remo," she said quietly to the night. "That is when I am at the greatest risk."
Shoulders hunched against the freezing wind, Anna Chutesov hurried to the waiting Kamov.
Chapter 22
Anna's pilot dropped them a mile outside town. The Russian agent and the two Sinanju Masters made their cautious way down to the village.
The small Inuit settlement of Umakarot was a snowcapped junkyard. Half-scavenged cars and trucks rose from the drifts like the bones of frozen metal beasts. Sheets of tin on tumbledown homes rattled in the wind.
And amid all the squalor lay the bodies.
In spite of the pervasive gloom, Anna could still see well enough to note that the first body they passed had been mutilated. The villager's nose had been removed. A gaping red triangle sat beneath the dead man's wide-open eyes.
The others they saw were like the first. "Zhirinsky," Anna hissed knowingly. With a tear of Velcro, she pulled her automatic from the pocket of her parka. Her eyes studied the washed-out grays and blacks that shadowed the village.
Remo and Chiun were proceeding cautiously. There was nothing in their movements that indicated either safety or danger. Anna pitched her voice low.
"Are we alone?" she asked.
"Nah," Remo replied. "We're pretty much surrounded."
From where they were walking, Remo and Chiun took note of eighteen commandos, all dressed in the same concealing off-white uniforms.
"Hey, be careful where you point that thing," Remo said.
Anna's gun barrel had strayed to his back as she studied the blank shadows. She quickly shifted it away.
"What are they doing?" Anna asked.
"Standing," Remo said. "If it wasn't for the guns they've got pointed at us, I'd say they kind of looked like snowmen. Albeit smelly, skinny Russian snowmen, one of which I think is carrying a beach pail full of noses. Yuck." His brow lowered. "Why do you suppose they haven't opened fire?"
"Perhaps they want my autograph," the Master of Sinanju sniffed as he padded along.
"Huh," Remo said. "That's weird."
"What?" Anna whispered. She had yet to see a living soul.
"One of these guys is kind of moving his hands funny," he said, making a point not to appear too interested in the soldier who loitered in the shadow of a fix-it shop. "Chiun tells me I move my hands like that, don't you, Chiun?"
The old Asian nodded. "There," he said, with a subtle chin motion. "Another does the same." When he followed the old man's gaze, Remo found a Russian standing in shadow near a tall stack of useless snowmobile chassis. To Remo's surprise, this soldier was also rotating his wrists absently.
"Now that's freaky," Remo mused. "You think Purcell taught them that to try to throw me off guard?"
"We do not know who taught them anything," Chiun cautioned. "Nor do we know how much they know. Therefore we must remain cautious."
"Fiddlesticks," Remo said. "Guy uses a gun's a guy who ain't so tough. Look, I'll prove it."
They were in the process of passing within a breath of one of the soldiers. Remo reached out casually, clamping on to the man's black goggles. With a yank he pulled them a foot away from the startled soldier's face and let them fly.
The goggles shot back much faster than they should have. With a thwack they struck his face, burying deep back in bone and brain.
The soldier appeared as if out of the ether, flopping to his back in the snow. He didn't move again. "See?" Remo pointed out with a knowing nod. "I told you."
Anna met the sudden appearance of the soldier with shallow shock. Her brain didn't have time to fully absorb what had happened before she felt herself being hoisted in the air. As the guns of the remaining soldiers abruptly blazed to life, Remo flung Anna to safety behind the nearby heap of half-dismantled snowmobiles.
"Stay put," Remo suggested as he twisted and twirled around the incoming spatter of screaming lead.
Leaving Anna crawling on her knees in the snow, Remo and Chiun swirled into the center of the small village. Like moths drawn to a flame, the soldiers converged.
The men continued firing even as their shielded eyes told them that they had to already have hit their targets. Any doubts they might have entertained were quickly settled by the Master of Sinanju.
Chiun launched himself at the soldiers. A flying kick to the forehead of a charging commando sent the man's head back like a swatted tennis ball. It struck the face of the man directly behind. Skull met skull in a fusion of bone that instantly turned the two soldiers into Siamese twins conjoined at the head.
"Remember, we keep one for questioning this time," Remo warned as the two men fell.
He slapped a gun barrel up into a soldier's chin. It sprang like the first spring dandelion from the top of the man's head.
"It is your turn," the Master of Sinanju replied, tossing aside a pair of kidneys. The man to whom the kidneys belonged fell to the snow, a gaping hole in his lower back.
"Sez who?" A pulverizing forearm sheered the top clean off a soldier's head. The bucket of noses he carried spilled to the snow.
"Do you recall who saved one for questioning several months ago on another of Emperor Smith's errands?" the old man asked indignantly.
Remo couldn't recall. "No," he admitted.
"In that case it is definitely your turn," Chiun concluded. With that, he swirled away in a flurry of kimono skirts.
"I think I've been had," Remo said as he wheeled into the next tight group of four Russians.
&
nbsp; They aimed their guns at Remo's chest and fired. He danced around the blast, coming up beside the startled men.
"Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. One of you has got to go," Remo sang.
His hand flashed forward and he tapped one commando dead center in the forehead. Behind thick goggles, Moe's eyes rolled back in his head. Before the other three knew what had happened, Remo had picked up the unconscious soldier and thrown him behind the pile of snowmobile chassis.
Eenie, Meenie and Miney swirled to Remo. There was a grunt of muffled Russian from beneath one ski mask.
"Mactep," the man breathed fearfully.
Remo had already been exercising greater caution with these soldiers. But with mention of the Russian word for "Master," his senses tripped higher.
Straining alertness, he tried to detect any concealed signs of life or stealthy movements in the area, anticipating the approach of Chiun's false Master of legend.
None was evident. In fact, as the soldiers raised their guns once more-now in shaking hands-their goggles were aimed squarely on Remo.
"Maybe they just know quality work when they see it," Remo mused with a shrug.
Before the men could fire, he smacked the barrels of the two on either side. Already squeezing their triggers, the two outside men blasted the man in the middle to ribbons even as they were mowing each other down in the cross fire.
As this latest trio was falling, Remo skipped on to the rest, the promise of doom writ large on his cruel face.
ANNA WAS KNEELING in the cold snow, her pistol still clasped tightly in her hand. She was forced to scramble out of the way when the soldier Remo had knocked unconscious came sliding back to join her.
Moe slid to a stop, a soft mound of snow gathering like a pillow beneath his head.
Tearing her eyes from the battle in the street, she crawled cautiously over to the man. When she saw he didn't stir, she sat her gun on her thigh and-very delicately-tugged off his ski mask and goggles.
The soldier had black wiry hair and harsh features. When she saw that it was not Skachkov, her face grew darkly disappointed.
Behind Anna, the crack of bones rose from the street. Remo and Chiun would be finished soon.
By Eminent Domain td-124 Page 14
