Remo flashed to his feet. "Sit down! You want to ruin everything?"
"But he has insulted me."
"It's just his style. They call it fire and brimstone. It's traditional. "
"I call it base and insulting," said Chiun.
"Please!"
Reluctantly the Master of Sinanju returned to his seat. Reverend Eldon Sluggard continued speaking, his head held high, his voice reverberating. He had not noticed Chiun's outburst.
"You are the maggots in the roadside garbage," Reverend Sluggard went on, "Ah know that. You know it. Admit it. Don't be ashamed. Say it with me, 'Ah am a maggot.' "
"I am a maggot," chorused the crowd.
The Master of Sinanju turned around. A sea of wrinkled, ailing faces held rapt expressions. Their mouths repeated the insane insults of the Reverend Eldon Sluggard.
"That's the bad news," said Reverend Sluggard. "But the good news is that you're no ordinary maggots. No! You're God's maggots."
"Hallelujah!" returned the crowd.
The Master of Sinanju blinked. What manner of madness was this?
"The Lord's holy maggots," howled Reverend Sluggard. "You may be squirmin' in the garbage now, but come judgment Day, you're a-gonna sprout wings and fly. "
"Praise be!"
"But God ain't gonna give you them wings until you've proved your love for him. Until you give tribute to him. Now, Ah know you're in need. Only the needy come to me. Can't pay those bills? Tell you what you do. Instead of scrimpin' a few more weeks to get enough money to pay the rent, give me that money. That's right! Give it to the Reverend Sluggard. Ah'm gonna invest it for you. And what am Ah gonna invest it in? Not in the stock market. Not in CD's. No, Ah'm gonna invest it in God. And God is gonna pay you back, yes sirree. You know that even if you scrape up your rent money, it's only gonna come due next month and you're gonna have to scrimp and save and pinch pennies all over again. But if you have faith, God's gonna give you a return on your investment. And Ah don't mean ten percent. No, Ah mean a thousand percent. You'll never have to scrimp and save again."
"Glory!"
"Now, maybe some of you say, 'Reverend Sluggard, my problem's got nothin' to do with money. Well, good for you, Ah say. Maybe it's health. Maybe you got a bad back or lumbago, or dropsy, or some such ailment. Well, you know that ain't your fault, any more than bein' poor is. It's the work of Satan! Admit it!"
"Amen!"
"Satan's put a curse on you! He's sapped your strength. He's poisoned your blood. Well, Ah got a cure for that too. And it's called faith. What's that, you say? Ah can hear your thoughts. The Lord lets me see into your minds, Ah'm so full of the Holy Spirit tonight. You say you don't have enough faith? Well, you don't have to. Because Ah got the faith. Yea, let mah faith show you the way. Now, later on Ah'm gonna come among you and start layin' hands on some of you. Do you have cancer? Ah'm gonna cure you. Do you have emphysema? Well, get ready to breathe free again!"
"This is the thrilling part," Victoria whispered.
"I've heard of faith healing," said Remo.
"And I have heard of charlatanry," snapped Chiun.
"But first," said Reverend Sluggard, "my acolytes are gonna come among you. They have envelopes. You know what they're for. They have credit-card slips and those little ka-chunka charge machines. Don't worry if you don't know how to work them. That's what my acolytes are here for."
Out of the curtained door came a handful of men and women in white garments. The men wore white suits with white shoes and ties. The women were in demure white dresses. The way the men dressed reminded Remo of his First Communion suit.
They went among the crowd. The women passed out the envelopes at one end of each wedge of seats. The men collected them after they were passed, crammed full of cash, to the other ends. Those who chose to pay by credit card were invited into the aisles, where little folding tables were set up. Credit-card machines went chunka-thunk so regularly, it was as if a million engines were at work at some relentless task.
Chiun's narrow eyes widened. Tribute. This priest was exacting tribute from his followers. He wondered what Remo had to say about this. But when he looked, Remo was watching the Reverend Eldon Sluggard with fascinated eyes.
The Reverend Sluggard was reading from the Bible. "Let me share with you this verse from Last Corinthians," he was saying. " 'He who shares his bounty with me, no matter how poor, will receive my blessin'. He who gives his last shekel to mah followers will receive plenty in return.' Amen."
"Amazing," said Remo. "He only glanced at that page. He must know the entire book by heart."
"Why not?" said Chiun. "He knows every other trick in the book."
"What's that, Little Father?" Remo asked, turning.
"Never mind. I do not converse with the deaf and blind."
When the collection of money stopped, Reverend Sluggard descended from the podium.
"Those wishin' healin', form two lines before me," Reverend Sluggard announced, raising up his many-ringed hands.
Before the words were out of his mouth, there was a surge to the aisle he stood in. Remo saw old women bent nearly double. Men in wheelchairs. People whose eye whites were greenish from diseases of the blood and organs.
A man was being helped by relatives to stand before Reverend Sluggard. His left foot was encased in bandages. He had to hop to reach the spot, his arms resting on the shoulders of two others.
"And what is your ailment, brother?" asked Reverend Sluggard.
"I got gout," the man croaked.
"Gout!" said Reverend Sluggard.
"I can't walk on my left foot. It hurts something fierce. Has for over three years now."
"You know what gout is, brother?" said Reverend Sluggard for all to hear.
"Yes."
"It's another word for Satan. I'll bet the doctor told you he can't cure you."
"That's right, Reverend."
"And you know what? He was right."
Tears of disappointment appeared in the corners of the old man's eyes.
"He can't. But Ah can. And the reason Ah can is that Ah know you can't get rid of the devil with pills or medicines. You get rid of Satan by castin' him out. And you all watch. Ah'm gonna cast out that old devil called gout. "
And placing his hands on the man's thining hair, Reverend Eldon Sluggard raised his voice to the rafters. "Powers of Satan, Ah command you to be gone. Leave this poor old man be. Spirits of Darkness, Ah cast you out!"
The old man winced with each shouted word. "Now," said Reverend Sluggard, stepping back. "Ah say to you, brother, stand free from Satan's shackles. You, on either side, let him go. He don't need your support no more."
The supporting pair let go of the man.
Without support, he was forced to put his weight on his heavily bandaged foot.
"Now, walk toward me."
"I ... I'm afraid."
"Come on, come on. Ah got enough faith for both of us. Walk!"
The old man took a hobbling step. His feet supported him.
"Look," he shouted. "Look, I'm healed. I can walk!"
"Hallelujah!"
"Sure you can walk." Reverend Sluggard grinned. "The devil's been cast out of your foot. Now you know what you gotta do next?"
"Pray!" said the old man.
"No. You go right over to that nice girl in white and you show God how thankful you are. You go and double your contribution."
The old man went obligingly. His step was firm.
"Amazing," said Remo.
"This will go on all day," said Victoria.
"Pah!" spat Chiun in a disgusted voice. He watched the old man walk over to the girl and hand her more money. Then the man went back to his seat. By the time he got to his aisle, Chiun noticed that he was beginning to favor his bandaged foot again.
But no one else noticed. Their eyes were on Reverend Eldon Sluggard. He was curing a little girl of pancreatic cancer. The little girl said she felt better when Reverend Sluggard told her she was cured. Her m
other wept for joy. A man with cirrhosis of the liver was next. Reverend Sluggard laid his hand upon the man's abdomen and shouted to the rafters. He pronounced the man cured.
The Master of Sinanju noticed a blind man in one of the lines. He was alone. He was asking to be brought before the Reverend Eldon Sluggard. He wanted to see again. His voice was pleading. Only Chiun noticed him.
Then two of the white-clad acolytes discovered the man and took him by the arms. Quietly but firmly they led him out of line and out of the Temple of Tribute. Even over Reverend Sluggard's shoutings, Chiun heard them promise that they were taking him to Reverend Sluggard, who would cure his vision.
An hour later, when the last person threw away his crutches, the blind man had not returned. Chiun knew why. You could convince anyone he was cured of an inner ailment, or that his feeble limbs were empowered once again-at least as long as his euphoria was maintained-but no one could convince a blind-man that he could see color and shape.
Chiun frowned as he left the Temple of Tribute. Was this what passed for faith in America? he wondered. Was this the faith that Remo clung to despite having had his vision cleared by Sinanju, his senses made whole?
Remo and Victoria joined the Master of Sinanju in the quadrangle. The congregation was returning to the buses. Chiun noticed that one of the persons who had left their wheelchairs behind had to be helped into the waiting bus.
"Wasn't that inspiring?" Victoria said, squeezing Remo's arm.
"You know how I feel?" Remo said. "I feel exactly the way I used to feel when I would come out of confession."
"Stupid?" asked Chiun.
"No. Sort of ... purged."
"Ah. I know that feeling," Chiun remarked.
"You do? I didn't know they had anything like confession in Sinanju."
"We do not. We have something equally efficacious."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Chamber pots."
Chapter 14
The Master of Sinanju wore his concern on his gracious face.
Not that anyone cared. Especially Remo.
A week had passed. Remo was standing in the wings of the studio where Reverend Eldon Sluggard was taping the latest edition of his Get with God program. Chiun did not understand the meaning of the name and had asked Remo to explain it.
"It's slang," Remo had replied. "It means ... to be one with God. These people in the studio audience want to be one with the Lord."
"They wish to die?"
"No, of course not."
"I am confused. Is it not said in Western religions that in order to be one with the Supreme Creator, death must first occur?"
"Well, yes. But some people believe that it's possible to know God spiritually."
"How?"
"I don't know how it works. But the nuns used to talk about it all the time."
"Ah," said Chiun, "the nuns. And you believed them, although they offered no proof to you?"
"This is faith, Chiun. You don't need proof. You need faith."
"In what?"
"In God."
"Have you ever spoken to this being you call God?"
"No. But the nuns told me all about him. Just like Reverend Sluggard is doing now."
"Do you have faith in Reverend Sluggard?"
"Sure," Remo said quickly.
"And why?"
"Because he's the leader of an important movement. He does good for people. He shows them the way to become the best they can be. Everyone says so."
"And if everyone told you he was a false prophet, would you believe that as well?"
"If he's not the man of God everyone says, why would the Iranians single him out for attack? Answer that."
"And that is your proof of this man's holiness?"
"What else could it mean?" Remo demanded.
"It could be that he angered them."
"Sure he has. He's been warning us about the Moslem threat for years. He told me so. Besides, why would Smith send us to protect him? Huh?"
"I see your newfound faith extends also to Smith," Chiun said quietly. "It is unfortunate." And while Remo's attention remained on the Reverend Sluggard, the Master of Sinanju departed in silence. He repaired to the quarters that had been set aside for them. The quarters were in the great boat that Eldon Sluggard used for his living place. It was explained that Remo and Chiun had to stay close to Reverend Sluggard at all times to protect him from the godless Moslems.
Chiun had replied that the Moslems were not godless. Otherwise they would not be Moslems. Victoria Hoar had countered that Moslems believed in the wrong God.
Chiun had started to ask her how she knew there was a right God, when he realized the stupidity of his own question. There was only one Supreme Creator. Only the name by which different peoples addressed him differed. And over that, non-Koreans had made war throughout history.
Chiun entered his stateroom and went to the telephone device. Ordinarily he despised the machines. They always rang when he was watching something particularly enlightened, and the calls were usually for Remo. Normally, Remo handled all telephonic work, but this was one conversation that the Master of Sinanju did not want Remo to be privy to.
Chiun picked up the receiver and pressed O for Operator. The operator came on the line and Chiun said, "I wish to speak with Harold Smith."
"What city, please?" the operator asked politely.
"It is the city named after one of your breads."
"Bread?"
"Yes, in the province of New York."
"City or state?"
"Is there a difference?" demanded the Master of Sinanju impatiently. "It is the one where Harold Smith resides." Why was it that these whites insisted on giving the same name to entirely different places? Usually names stolen from other countries. Once he had noticed a Cairo, Illinois, and a Carthage, New York, on a map. There were also a Paris, Texas, and a Troy, Ohio. Chiun once awoke from a particularly terrible nightmare in which the mothers of his village were forced to once again drown their starving babies as they did in the old times, because ignorant modern kings had been sending their emissaries to negotiate with the Master of Sinanju, Utah.
"New York City is in New York State," said the operator.
"Then it is in New York State because New York City is south of this place, which is called Folcroft."
"I don't have a listing for a Folcroft, New York," said the operator.
"I did not say the town was called Folcroft, stupid woman," Chiun snapped. "I said it was one of your bread names. Folcroft is the building."
"There is no need to shout, sir," the operator said indignantly.
"I am waiting."
"I have a listing for a Folcroft Sanitarium in Rye, New York. Is that what you want?"
"Of course. What other Folcrofts are there? Never mind," Chiun said quickly, realizing that he might have to listen to a twelve-hour recitation of all the other American Folcrofts. "I wish to speak with Harold Smith."
"And your name?"
"I am under cover and forbidden to identify myself."
"Er, one moment."
After a few seconds, a telephone ringing greeted Chiun's eager ears. The dry voice of Dr. Harold W. Smith, known in the Book of Sinanju variously as Smith the First, Smith the Generous, Smith the Frugal, and Mad Harold, said, "Hello?"
"I have a collect call for Harold Smith."
"From whom?" Smith asked suspiciously. "The gentleman refuses to identify himself."
"I do not accept collect calls from strangers," Smith snapped.
"It is not strangers, it is I," said Chiun suddenly.
"Please, sir," the operator said. "You are not permitted to talk to the other party unless he agrees to accept the call."
"I will accept," Smith said quickly. "Go ahead, Master of ... er, Master."
The operator got off the line and Chiun launched into his complaint.
"Emperor Smith, we have a problem."
"Yes?" Smith's voice was tight.
"It is Remo. I fea
r he will be unable to accomplish this assignment."
"Is he injured?"
"Yes, mentally injured. He is suffering greatly. He talks of incense and vestal virgins he knew in his earlier life, and there is a new woman who has him in her thrall. "
"I'm afraid Remo's romantic predilections are not sufficient to pull him off this assignment."
"He is being poisoned by this place. I fear that if he remains any longer, he will go over to the enemy."
"What enemy?"
"Reverend Sluggard."
"I have no information indicating that Sluggard is anything but a target of Iranian fundamentalists. What makes you say he is the enemy?"
"Anyone who speaks honeyed words that draw Remo away from the path of Sinanju is the enemy."
"I see. Are you saying that Remo is experiencing a religious conversion of some type?"
"I would not call it that. I would call it a reversion. It is all he talks about now. Faith and sin and other trivia."
"I'm sorry, Master Chiun. I agree with you that if Remo is experiencing a religious reawakening, that could cause problems for us, but right now this assignment must be carried out. Have you learned anything?"
"Yes. It was during this priest's television program. He is launching a Crusade."
"So?"
"A Crusade," repeated Chiun. "Do you not know your history?"
"Of course I do," Smith said peevishly, the insult in his voice for once matching Chiun's. He was proud of his straight-A pluses in history that started in the fifth grade and continued, an unbroken testament to Smith's studiousness and lack of a normal social life, all the way up to his graduation from Dartmouth College.
"Are you not concerned?"
"I think you misunderstand," said Smith reasonably. "Sluggard is not talking about a crusade in the sense of the old incursions into the Holy Land, but a crusade for funds."
"I have seen how he tricks people out of money, too. But I heard the words he spoke. He spoke of a holy war. "
"Many of these television ministers solicit money in different ways. And regardless of how questionable Sluggard's methods may be, our concern is not that, but in any activities that might have attracted the attention of the Iranian hierarchy."
"Then send Remo and me to Iran. We are known there. We will talk to their caliph. We will find your answers, and negotiate an excellent treaty. But in this place, we will learn nothing and perhaps lose our Remo."
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