Upstairs, Moorcock started making plans to abandon the operation and get away with as much cash as he could. Something had gone wrong, of that he was sure, and it was obviously time to regroup. He could set up operations in another city easily enough, utilizing his contacts once again. This was by no means the end, but it was the end in Detroit. There were a lot of men in his employ, however, who were waiting for their payoff, and he was hoping that he could get away before any of them caught on.
So the decision was made. Tomorrow was his last day in Detroit.
Before turning in for the night, Remo and Chiun briefly went over their plans for the following day.
The next day was Friday, and according to what Walter Sterling had told them, on Friday the Church of Modern-day Beliefs held services in the morning and in the evening.
"The church will be full of people tomorrow morning, then," Chiun said.
"We could wait until the afternoon," Remo said.
"Then we run the risk of not being able to stop the shipment from leaving the automobile factory."
"That's right," Remo said.
"Then we will just have to stay with our original plan."
"Hit the church in the morning, and the plant in the afternoon," Remo said.
"Yes. We will have to try to make sure that no innocent people are hurt at the church—"
"—especially children," Remo finished before Chiun could.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Remo, Chiun, and Walter stood across the street from Moorcock's church as the Friday morning worshipers filed in.
"I don't understand the appeal of Moorcock's new religion," Remo said to Walter.
"My mother always said that it was an alternative," Walter said.
"And your father?"
Walter grinned and said, "My father always said it was a bunch of shit. Boy, if he only knew that we were really working for the minister. He was right, the religion shit was just a bunch of shit."
"Maybe not," Remo said. "I saw people dropping money in those urns he calls collection plates. I think maybe that's how he first financed his drug deals. From the looks of his church, he sure never used the money to make improvements."
"He said that the money would not be spent on commercial things but on intangibles."
"What was that supposed to mean?"
Walter shrugged and said, "Nobody ever asked him."
"He's got a mesmerizing manner, all right," Remo said. "His voice, his eyes— he's probably able to get people to listen to whatever he says, without question."
"People are sheep," Chiun said.
"He knows how to play to people, that's all. That's what every fire-and-brimstone preacher has always been able to do."
"You sound like you admire him," Walter said.
"Not at all, Walter. I just recognize what he is."
"If he had been satisfied with being a minister, none of this would be necessary," Chiun said, "but he used his ability to influence people to go too far. He has caused the death of children such as yourself, and he must be punished."
"I'm not a child."
"Believe me, kid," Remo said, "to Chiun you're a child."
The last person seemed to have entered the church, and they were about to step from cover to cross the street when Walter Sterling pulled them back.
"Oh, no!" he said.
"What's the matter?" Remo asked.
"That woman walking down the block toward the church." the kid said.
"What about her?" Remo asked.
"It's my mother."
"Your mother?"
"If she goes in— I didn't know she attended Friday services. What you and Chiun are planning…"
"Let's see if she goes in," Remo said.
The three of them watched the woman as she made her way down the street toward the church. When she reached the front steps, she ascended them without hesitation and entered the building.
"Damn!" Walter said.
"Take it easy—" Remo said.
"You can't do it, not now," Walter said. "I don't know exactly what you and Chiun are planning to do, but from hearing you talk, I think a lot of people could end up getting hurt."
"No one is going to get hurt," Chiun said.
"How can you be so sure—"
Chiun put his hand on the back of the boy's neck and said, "I am sure, and you can be sure, can't you, Walter?"
Walter's face went blank, and he nodded his head.
"Yes."
"Good," Chiun said. He exerted a little more pressure, and suddenly Walter slumped over. Remo lowered him gently to the ground, where he began to snore.
"Put him in the alley behind the fence," Chiun said. "He will be out of the way there."
After Remo had taken care of Walter, he and Chiun prepared to cross the street. This time Remo himself stopped them.
"Do you see?"
"I see," Chiun said.
A man had come out the side door of the church, carrying a black attaché case. He walked to a dark car, got in, and drove away.
"The drugs are on their way to the plant," Remo said. "By the time we get there, they should be in the fender wells of the cars."
"Let us go to church," Chiun said.
They crossed the street to the church and then moved around to the side entrance. Opening the door without a sound, they entered and stood out of sight behind Moorcock, who was already into his sermon.
"Sins of the flesh are not condemned here, my dear followers," he was saying, "as long as it is your own flesh you sin against. You may do what you will with your own body, your own mind, your own soul. That is a modern-day belief."
Remo and Chiun could see that the church was half-full. Most of the people were sitting toward the front, with the stragglers— winos and derelicts— toward the back.
Remo looked around and spotted a stairway leading up and a closed door near it. He nudged Chiun.
"Down," he said, pointing to the door.
They moved toward the door. Remo tried the knob, and it turned freely; he pushed the door open. The stairwell was dark, but at the bottom he could see a crack of light beneath another door. He led the way down, with Chiun right behind him. The stairs were wooden and rather flimsy, but he and Chiun barely touched them as they descended.
At the bottom Remo put his ear to the door and, listening intently, became aware of the sound of a man breathing on the other side. If he opened the door violently, the man was sure to turn and possibly sound an alarm. His best bet was to open the door normally and hope that the man simply thought it was Moorcock.
Remo opened the door and saw one man standing to his left. As he stepped through the door, the man began to turn slowly, opening his mouth to speak, but he never got the words out. Remo took him from behind, and with the touch of one hand, drove the life out of his body.
He lowered the man gently to the ground and looked around. There were about half a dozen other people in the basement, but none of them heard a thing, as they were busily performing their own tasks— mixing heroin with other white substances: salt, sugar, anything that closely resembled the drug. In its pure form, heroin was deadly to anyone who used it. The purer it was, however, the more times it could be "stepped on"— or "cut"— and the more times it was cut, the more it became worth on the street, because it could be stretched that much further. With the garbage junkies were used to shooting into their arms, this stuff would be like heaven.
It was interesting to Remo that the lighting in the basement was provided by kerosene lamps on the tables and the walls. Apparently Moorcock had seen no reason to fix the electricity in the basement. The basement was not finished, either. It was just concrete floors and bare walls, and Moorcock had moved wooden tables in where his people could do their jobs. If these people had had a union, they surely would have filed grievances about the working conditions.
Remo closed the door behind them and moved the body of the dead man aside.
"This is where they prepare the vile subs
tance to be sold to children by children," Chiun said to Remo. "A doubly disgusting crime against the children of the world. These people must be punished in the severest manner."
"I agree, Chiun. Let's go."
They strode across the room to the half-dozen workers whose backs were to them. And they would have snuffed them out as effortlessly as so many candles, except that one of them chose to turn around at that moment. When he saw Remo and Chiun, he gaped and then shouted a warning to the others.
The others turned to face their imminent death, but one was quicker to think than the others. As he turned, he threw a handful of powder toward Remo. The grainy substance flew into Remo's eyes, burning and blinding him.
Remo backed up a step and gave full attention to his ears. He knew he would have to rely on his hearing to complete his task.
"They're both blind," someone yelled. "Get 'em."
Apparently Chiun was in a similar predicament, but Remo did not worry about the old man. Chiun could take care of himself. He closed his eyes tightly and listened intently.
The sound of three people rushing at him was deafening to his ultra-sensitive hearing, and the three were of such different sizes that he could easily discern one from the other.
The heaviest of the three reached him first. He allowed the man to put his hands on him, then he reached out with his own hands, found the man's throat, and crushed it like an eggshell. The man croaked and gurgled as he slid to the floor and choked to death.
The other two reached him at the same time, each taking hold of one of his arms. He did not throw them both off because he would have had to locate them again in order to finish them off. Instead, he brought both of his arms around in front of him. With the men still hanging on to him, he kicked first one in the groin and then the other. They both screamed, and as they released his arms and fell to their knees, his hands shot out and took hold of their throats, ending their lives as he had the first man's.
That done, Remo listened for the sounds of Chiun's combat. He heard nothing.
"Chiun!"
"Here," Chiun replied. Following the sound of his master's voice, Remo also became aware of the sound of water. Chiun was washing out his eyes, a prospect that greatly appealed to Remo as well.
As Remo approached, Chiun reached out to take his hands and guide them into the water. Remo bathed his face and eyes several times until the burning subsided and his vision returned.
"We underestimated—" he started to say, flushing his eyes again, but Chiun didn't give him a chance to finish.
"I did not underestimate anyone, except perhaps you," the old man said. "I allowed the powder to enter my eyes so that I could set an example for you. That is all."
Remo looked at Chiun, then nodded and said "Of course, Little Father. You were an inspiration to me."
"Of course," came the reply.
They both looked over at the dead men, and Remo saw that Chiun's three had met the same fate as his own.
"Well," he said, shaking the water from his hands, "I guess the next step is to get those people upstairs out of here, and then take care of this place. These lamps ought to serve us nicely."
"Yes," Chiun said, nodding, and then the old Oriental cocked his head as he heard something, "Someone is coming."
"I hear it," Remo said. Listening intently, he could hear noise in the stairwell, and he realized that there were two separate and distinct sets of footsteps.
They both turned to face the door as Lorenzo Moorcock entered the room, holding a terrified woman in front of him and pressing a gun to her right temple.
"Gentleman," Moorcock said, allowing the door to close behind them. "Welcome to my little factory."
"I guess we were pretty noisy, huh?" Remo said. "You came to complain?"
"On the contrary," Moorcock said. "I'm here to compliment you. You've done my work for me." Moorcock looked at the bodies of his dead employees. "Yes," he said, "and very nicely too. You saved me the trouble of killing them myself."
"Planning on pulling out?" Remo asked.
"Oh, yes, I believe the time has come for me to take my profits and move on," the minister said.
"Taking the lady with you?"
"Mrs. Sterling?" Moorcock said, tightening his arm around the woman's waist. "Oh, she insisted on coming down with me. The poor woman couldn't bear the thought of something happening to me."
"Please," the woman said at that point, her eyes pleading, "I don't understand."
"Be quiet," Moorcock said sharply. Looking at Remo and Chiun, Moorcock said, "We have a small emergency device set up down here that alerted me to your presence. I turned my congregation over to a guest speaker— a common practice— and asked Mrs. Sterling to accompany me. As you can see, she insisted on doing so."
Remo was feeling frustrated. He knew he could take Moorcock on without fear of his gun, but the gun wasn't pointing at him, it was pointing at Walter Sterling's mother.
Chiun was standing quietly, calmly staring at the minister. Remo knew that this was what Chiun had been waiting for, the opportunity to kill the man who had been responsible for the deaths of the children, and he knew that the Master of Sinanju must have been feeling some frustration of his own.
"What now, Moorcock?" Remo asked.
"Well, now you and your friend will join my people on the floor. Once I've gotten rid of you, I can return to my flock, wrap up my services, and be on my way."
"Where?"
Moorcock smiled and shook his head. "This is not the movies, sir, where the bad guy tells the good guys his entire plan because their death is imminent. If you're going to die, it would serve no purpose to tell you, save to postpone your deaths."
Still smiling, Moorcock aimed the gun at Remo and fired. When he saw that the bullet had missed, he acted quickly and snapped his arm back so that the gun was pressed against Mrs. Sterling's temple again.
"What trickery is this?" he demanded.
"Bad marksmanship?" Remo suggested.
"I am an excellent marksman," the minister said. "I couldn't have missed."
Remo shrugged and said, "You have to believe your own eyes, don't you?"
"There has to be another explanation," Moorcock said. "I can adapt to any situation." He was talking to himself as much as to Remo and Chiun.
"So I understand," Remo said. "You've adjusted to your failure in politics very nicely."
"You cannot anger me," Moorcock said. He stared at them for a few moments, then said, "I have it."
"Don't breathe this way; I haven't had my shots," Remo said.
"You," Moorcock said to Remo, ignoring the remark, "will kill him," pointing at Chiun, "or I shall kill her."
"That's a good plan," Remo said, "except for one thing."
"What's that?"
"If I try to kill him," Remo said, "I'm afraid that he'll kill me."
"That will serve my purpose just as well."
"Yeah, but if he kills me, who's going to kill him for you?" Remo asked.
"You are trying to confuse me in order to prolong your own life," Moorcock said. "You will kill the old man. That shouldn't be too much of a problem for you."
Remo could feel the scorn that remark brought out in his teacher.
"Please," he said to Moorcock, "don't get him mad."
"I think perhaps you are mad," Moorcock said. "This old man can hardly be a danger to anyone."
"If that's the way you feel," Remo said, "then you kill him."
All Remo or Chiun needed was for Moorcock to take the gun away from the woman's head once more, even for a few seconds. If the minister would fire at Chiun, then one of them would surely reach him before he could turn the gun back on Mrs. Sterling.
Moorcock was pondering the problem when something happened that resolved the situation. The basement door opened violently, striking Moorcock in the back. He staggered under the blow, releasing Mrs. Sterling so that she fell to the floor.
Moorcock himself retained his footing and turned to face the doo
r. To everyone's surprise, Walter Sterling entered the room. When the boy saw the gun, he threw himself in front of his mother. Moorcock aimed the gun at him.
Chiun took full advantage of the situation, and Remo stood back and watched because this was what the Master of Sinanju had been waiting for. Remo had done the legwork. but this part belonged to Chiun.
The old Korean moved across the floor in a blur and kicked the gun from Moorcock's hand. The minister shouted and turned to find himself face-to-face with the old man he'd been ridiculing only moments ago.
"I'll kill you," he said to Chiun.
"You have killed children," Chiun explained to Moorcock, "and for that you must die a violent and painful death."
Moorcock laughed and launched a punch at Chiun. Chiun moved forward, easily avoiding the blow, and landed a blow of his own. Remo was the only other person in the room who heard the ribs on the man's left side crack. Moorcock gasped but had no time to slump to the floor before Chiun landed a second blow, shattering the ribs on the right side. Remo realized that Moorcock was about to suffer the Death of a Thousand Breaks, which was usually reserved for the very worst enemies of the House of Sinanju.
The sound of snapping bones filled the room, and before long Moorcock was lying on the floor, barely alive but still able to feel the pain from the damage that had been inflicted on him by the Master of Sinanju.
Chiun stepped back, surveyed his handiwork, and nodded. Remo knew that there wasn't a whole bone left in Moorcock's body.
"That was horrible," Mrs. Sterling said, sobbing. Her son had helped her to her feet, and she was leaning on him for support.
Chiun turned to the woman and said, "It was meant to be, madam."
Remo moved to Walter Sterling and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"What did he do to me?" Walter asked. "I woke up in an alley and—"
"Never mind," Remo said. "Walter, it's up to you and your mother to get all those people out of the building, and then you must call the police and tell them to come here."
"Should we wait—"
"After you've done that, take your mother home," Remo said. "We'll make sure that the police find evidence of what was going on here."
"All right," Walter said. He turned to his mother and told her they had to do what Remo said. Then he turned back to Remo and said, "The man who killed my father?"
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