They watched as Remo, seemingly playing the part of a good samaritan, knocked out the window glass on the driver's side.
"Are you all right, pal?" Remo asked.
The driver was all but standing on his head and had a gusher of a nosebleed that rampaged down into his eyes.
"Get me out of here! Get me out!"
"Scared?" Remo asked solicitously.
"Yeah, yeah— get me out!"
"Want not to be scared?"
"Yeah— yeah, I do."
So Remo shot a hard finger into the man's forehead, which cancelled out his emotions. Not to mention his life.
"Your wish is granted," Remo said.
"Is he going to be all right?" someone asked as Remo walked off.
"Sure is. I gave him first aid."
The FOES office was still empty when Remo got there, but he was in a better mood. Chiun had always said that exercise was good for the spirit as well as the body. Thinking of Chiun again, Remo felt a twinge.
It was time for a long talk with Chiun.
* * *
Not fearing attack, the Master of Sinanju hadn't bothered to lock the door. Remo just walked in.
Chiun, attired in the white kimono that he seldom wore, sat writing on a piece of parchment. He did not acknowledge Remo, although Remo knew Chiun was aware of his presence.
"I have come to talk, Little Father," Remo said quietly in Korean.
"I have offended you, I know," Remo said, finding the words more difficult than expected. He cleared his throat.
"If this is the end of our travels together," Remo said, "then I will accept that fact if I must. It is not my wish to put our friendship aside, but if it is your wish, then my respect for you forces me to accept this."
Chiun gave no sign he heard, but his pen scratched less furiously.
"But just as I have my respect for you, you must respect me. I am prepared to say my last good-bye and wish to atone for my offense before we part. But because I do not know how I have offended you, I cannot do this. You must tell me. This is my parting request to you, who have been both parent and teacher to me."
When Chiun finally spoke, it was after a long silence, and he did not look up from his writing.
"That was a good speech, excellently spoken," he said tonelessly.
"Thank you," Remo said, a lump growing in his throat. Dammit! Why do I feel like this? he asked himself.
"But your voice broke toward the last," Chiun added, and resumed his writing. A long silence stretched into minutes in which neither of them spoke.
"Sit at my feet, Remo," Chiun said at last.
Remo sat, his face a mask.
"Emperor Smith has been trying to reach you."
"I don't care about Smith," Remo said.
"And your assignment? Do you no longer care about that?"
"I don't know," Remo said truthfully.
"Then what do you care about?" Chiun dropped his quill for the first time and faced Remo. His expression was unreadable.
"I care about you. I care about us."
Chiun nodded and turned his parchment over.
"Do you remember the legend of the Great Master Wang?" Chiun asked.
"There are many legends about Wang," Remo replied.
"True. But one stands above all other." Chiun placed his hands flat on his lap and spoke with his eyes closed, as if from memory.
"There is a saying in my village, 'Blue comes from indigo but is bluer.' This means that a pupil can sometimes exceed his Master. So it was with Wang in the long-ago days of Sinanju. Now, Wang was not the first of the Masters of Sinanju. No, many came before him, and many came after, and some who followed also took the name of Wang.
"Before Wang, the Master was named Hung. A good Master was Hung, and the last of the old Masters of Sinanju, who knew not the sun source. In those days the Master was followed by lesser Masters, who were known as night tigers.
"When the time came for Hung to train his replacement, he chose a young night tiger named Wang, who was my ancestor. Wang was not a difficult choice, for in the years those times were hard, and the babies of Wang's generation had mostly been sent home to the sea. Those who survived were not always healthy, although some made adequate night tigers. But only Wang, Hung saw, was worthy to train as the next Master, and Wang began that training, quickly proving himself an apt student and possessive of the promise of true leadership.
"But, woe, before Wang had been training more than one year, the Master Hung died in his sleep. There was no shame attached to this, Remo, for this Master was still young, being only seventy-five. Yet he died before his time, leaving no heir worthy of being called the Master of Sinanju. This tragedy had never before happened to the House of Sinanju."
Remo had heard this story before, but listened patiently.
"And the people of the village gathered around the body of Hung," Chiun continued. "And with much wailing and weeping, they consigned his body to the earth, setting a marker upon it which said: HERE LIES HUNG, THE LAST MASTER OF SINANJU.
"And so it seemed. The glory of the finest house of assassins the world had ever nurtured was no more.
"The people of Sinanju huddled by their fires, for winter was fast approaching, and they asked themselves, 'What are we to do now that there is no Master to protect us and feed our bellies and our children's bellies?'
"And some said, 'We will have to send the babies home to the sea again.'
" 'But there are so few babies even now,' said others.
" 'Perhaps we should leave this wretched village for the south.'
" 'Oh, woe,' they cried. 'To no longer be Sinanju. To no longer be above all others. If only Hung had not died too soon. If only Wang had learned more.'
"And so they grieved and complained to one another, not one of them offering any solution to their plight. And Wang, young and beset by the guilt the others had forced upon him, went off with his thoughts to the hills east of Sinanju.
"There he meditated for five days. Although he had been taught proper diet, Wang ate only rice hulls and grass roots because he wished to purge his mind of all distraction. After three days, he forebore all food and concentrated on proper breathing alone, an art which was known then, although not refined.
"After five days, Wang's meditation bore no fruit. He had no solution to Sinanju's grave plight. Further, his spirit was failing for he was weak from hunger and very cold. In truth, life and will were slipping from his body.
"On the fifth night, he lay on his back staring into the heavens. Above him, the stars moved inexorably, and it seemed to Wang they were cold, uncaring stars, unmindful of the tragedy gathering on the shores of the West Korean Bay. Yet at the same time Wang could see that the stars never went out; they were always burning, just like the sun. If only people could burn as bright and as long... Wang thought.
"It was then a great ring of fire came down from the skies. The fire had a message for Wang. It said that men do not use their minds and bodies as they should; they wasted their spirit and strength. The ring of fire taught Wang the lessons of control— and though Wang's enlightenment came in a single burst of flame, his mastery of what he had learned took a lifetime.
"This was the beginning of the sun source," Chiun finished, opening his clear eyes.
"You think there is some connection between that ring of fire and these UFOs?" Remo asked, frowning.
"The sun source is known," Chiun said slowly. "But the source of the sun source is not known. Many Masters have contemplated the mystery of the ring of fire which spoke to Wang, for it is the greatest mystery of Sinanju. I myself have given this much thought. And you, Remo?"
Remo shrugged. "I thought it was just a legend."
"I see. Then perhaps you are not responsible after all."
"I'm not?" Remo asked hopefully.
"When I first read of these USOs, Remo, I saw in their mystery the answer to the greatest riddle of Sinanju. It was no accident that we of Sinanju, in the hour of our direst need,
were given the gift of the sun source. A wiser power from the stars saw that our glory should not fade from this earth, and perhaps one of their USOs visited with Wang and through their skill placed the secret of the sun source into his brain.
"If this were true, then it is the duty of the Master of Sinanju to make contact with the descendants of the Master who gave Sinanju to the Greatest Master Wang. For we are bound by a common destiny."
"Let me get this straight," Remo said. "You think the things we can do with our bodies are because a flying saucer dropped in on Wang?"
"An emissary from an advanced Korean civilization," Chiun corrected.
"Korean? How do you figure Korean?"
"Very simple. Korean is the most civilized nation on this planet. It therefore follows that any advanced people on other planets are Korean, too. Besides, this Master from the House of Beetle Goose has a Korean name. He told it to me."
"He did? What is it?"
"Well," Chiun said evasively. "He pronounced it differently than you and I would. His accent was atrocious."
"Right. But what was his name?"
"He called himself Hopak Kay," Chiun said quickly.
"Hopak Kay? What does it mean?"
"It does not matter what it means. It is his name."
Remo scratched his head. Hopak Kay? The words sounded familiar, but Remo's command of Korean was not exactly fluent.
"What is important," Chiun continued, "is that I had made contact with this Master."
"And I screwed it up?"
"Yes, you screwed it up."
"I did not know, Little Father. I am sorry."
"Are you prepared to atone for this?" Chiun asked.
"If it is within my power," Remo replied.
"Then you will help me regain contact with this World Master?"
"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"
"Yes, Remo. I forgive you."
"Thank you, Little Father," Remo said gratefully. He no longer felt like an orphan. "It was my speech that did it, wasn't it?"
Chiun smiled. "Yes, it was your beautiful speech which touched my heart." And Chiun tore to pieces the parchment on which he had been writing, pleased that he had been spared the necessity of finishing the long letter in which he told Remo that despite all the insults and indignities he had suffered, Chiun would return to resume Remo's training since Remo was of such a level of ineptitude that without Chiun, he was in danger of being run over by a three-wheeled bicycle.
?Chapter Thirteen
"I'd better check in with Smitty," Remo said, picking up the telephone. "What did he say he wanted?"
"He wanted you to recover something that was stolen from your country," Chiun said absently.
"Oh yeah? Did he say what it was?"
"It was one of those ridiculous atomic things."
"What! You mean an atomic bomb?" Remo demanded.
"No, not one of those."
"Good," Remo said, listening to the Folcroft number ring.
"Smith called it a warhead," Chiun remarked.
"An atomic warhead's been stolen!" Remo shouted.
"Yes, I know, Remo," Smith's lemony voice came over the receiver. "I've been trying to reach you about it. And there's no need to shout. I can hear perfectly."
"Smitty, what's going on?"
"Not good, Remo. The Air Force secretly moved the damaged Titan missile today, along with its warhead, which took a different route for security reasons. The vehicle carrying the warhead disappeared en route, and its driver was found dead. He'd apparently been left, unconscious, on a road three miles from the missile base, where he was run over."
"In other words, you don't know who took this thing?"
"No, but it's safe to assume that the same group who sabotaged the Titan in the first place is responsible. Can you make contact with them again?"
"I'll try. Is the warhead alive?"
"Unfortunately, yes. It couldn't be deactivated on site. The damage to the missile precluded that. Remo, I don't have to tell you how serious this is. You'll have to find a way to bring Chiun back into this."
"I already have, Smitty," Remo said coolly.
"Good," said Smith, moving on to the next order of business. "You must locate the warhead as soon as possible. When you do, contact me immediately."
"Don't you want to know how I convinced Chiun to—"
"No," Smith said, and hung up.
"Those crazy flying saucer people have ripped off a live warhead," Remo informed Chiun.
"Yes, I believe they said something about ridding the world of those insane devices. I do not think that is so crazy."
"That depends on whether one goes off in their faces or not. They've been lucky so far. We've got to find them, and when we do we'll find that UFO, too."
"I will go put on an appropriate kimono," Chiun said.
When he returned, the Master of Sinanju wore a green ceremonial robe on which twin peacocks strutted. "Am I presentable?" he asked.
"Only if they're hiding at a circus," Remo said, but he smiled.
Chiun smiled back. Things were back to normal.
* * *
At Chiun's insistence Remo drove to FOES headquarters, even though he had been there earlier and found nothing.
"Emptiness is always temporary," Chiun pointed out.
The door was ajar when they got there, and sounds came from inside.
"Let's take him, whoever it is," Remo suggested.
"No," Chiun said. "We will wish to follow this person to our goal. Let us be unobtrusive."
"You'll have to leave the building for that," Remo remarked, eyeing the peacocks on Chiun's robe.
But they both melted into the shadows in time to avoid being seen by Pavel Zarnitsa, who was anxious to locate the farm of a certain Ethel Sump.
"Who was he?" Remo asked after he had gone.
"I did not recognize him," Chiun admitted. "He is not one of the group belonging to the blonde woman with the cavernous mouth."
"We'll follow him anyway. He's all we've got."
They let their quarry reach his rented car before they started theirs. Remo followed at a discreet distance, which was not a problem. The leading car gave off a noxious exhaust, which Remo's sensitive nostrils could follow from better than a mile.
"Good. He's going south, Chiun."
But the Master of Sinanju was too engrossed to reply. He was busy solving his Rubik's Cube for what Remo thought must have been the hundredth time.
"Haven't you gotten tired of that thing yet?" he complained.
"One does not tire of new challenges," Chiun sniffed.
"What new challenges?" Remo demanded. "You've already broken the record on that thing twice."
"But I have not solved the puzzle with my eyes closed."
"Hah! And you're not going to, either. I still haven't figured out how you do it, but no one can do it with their eyes closed."
"No?" Chiun inquired. "Watch."
And while Remo watched out of the corner of his eye, Chiun went through an elaborate series of motions like a magician proving that he had nothing hidden up his sleeve. Then he raised the cube from his lap and, tightly closing his eyes, solved the puzzle in a blur of colored squares and flying fingers.
"There. A new way. Perhaps I should go on television."
Remo bit his tongue and concentrated on the road ahead. The thick smell of exhaust fumes made him want to gag. Chiun, immensely pleased with himself, took a nap and promptly began snoring.
"Large hairy dog!"
Chiun snapped awake in mid-snore. "What is wrong, Remo? What is it?"
"Large hairy dog," Remo repeated triumphantly. "I've been trying to remember it for the last twenty minutes. Hopak Kay means 'large hairy dog' in Korean. This alien's name is Large Hairy Dog!"
Chiun's face assumed an embarrassed expression. "Do not make light of another's name. In the culture from which he comes, it is no doubt a proud and worthy name. You should take that into account."
"Since when
are you so understanding of other cultures?"
"I have always been that way," Chiun insisted.
"Try to keep that in mind the next time you want me to grow Fu Manchu fingernails."
* * *
Pavel Zarnitsa found the farmhouse that should have belonged to Ethel Sump, drove well past it, and pulled off the road. He quietly assembled his plastic pistol and walked back in the direction of the farm, with its weeds and weatherbeaten barn.
He did not pay any attention to the car that shot past him, and so did not know that it, too, parked not far down the road.
The farm was so run-down, it made Pavel a little sick when he got to it. In Russia, such neglect was practically treasonous. How did they feed people with such waste? Thinking of food made Pavel's mouth water. He would enjoy a taco very much right about now. There was a light in one window, and Pavel went toward it in a sort of crouching run. He waited in the darkness until he was satisfied that his movements had gone unnoticed. And when he peered into the house, there was no sign of people except for the light, which showed a rather unkempt parlor.
Making a circuit of the place, Pavel discovered the van, which told him that someone had to be there. He was about to investigate the barn when a weird thing happened.
The barn began to glow.
The barn had been a dark shape against some feathery redbud trees and looked ready to fall over in a stiff wind. There were missing boards and a ragged hole in the roof. Suddenly, a tremendous white light seemed to fill the barn and leak from the chinks and holes. There were a lot of these, so it made the barn all but glow.
A long, eerie sigh came from within, like a chorus of awestruck worshipers at the Second Coming.
Pavel crept toward the light, this time on his stomach. What he saw through a knothole made him forget all about his appetite.
He saw a round metallic object of many bright lights, which began to change color before his startled eye. The object floated in the exact center of the barn. It wobbled slightly, but otherwise did not move. It made no sound. It was a fantastic sight.
There were also people inside the barn. Switching eyes because of the intense light, Pavel saw that they looked human. There seemed to be about ten of them, led by a tall blonde woman in some kind of black uniform. The others were also in black, including one who hobbled on crutches, and another who knelt before the floating object. This man was not in black, and the blonde leader held a gun to his head.
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