"So Bal-Mung," Chiun continued, "who at that time was considered good, journeyed far from his home to toil in the employ of a great king. This king was named Siegfried and he did rule the people known as the Nibelungs. The king had conquered this race years before and had taken as his own their abundant treasure. This wealth was so vast that it was deemed worthy of a name. Called the Nibelungen Hoard, this store of riches and its possessor became known the world over. News of the Nibelungen Hoard spread even to these shores where Master Bal-Mung was resting between assignments. So taken was he with the stories he had been told, Bal-Mung did abandon his rest in order to venture to the land of the Nibelungs."
"He smelled the cash all the way from Korea," Remo interjected.
"I did say, Remo, that he was good," Chiun reminded him. "And so Bal-Mung and his servant did travel far across the great desolate mass of land to the west. For weeks they trekked through dangerous terrain. The people they met grew paler of skin and rounder of eye. The Master's servant was greatly afeared of these cloud-skinned men, afraid that his master had led him to the land of the dead, and that these were ghosts whose curse it was to walk the frigid land with eyes of an improper wideness. But Master Bal-Mung did allay the fears of his youthful companion. Sinanju had worked for whites for many years, having toiled in Greece and Rome. But to his servant, this was all new and so he continued on in fear.
"Eventually they did find the court of King Siegfried, and the Master did offer his services as protector of both sovereign and gold."
"I'll bet I know which one he was more interested in," Remo grumbled.
"The gold, of course," Chiun sniffed.
"No surprise there."
"And there should not be, for as I have told you, up until now Bal-Mung had demonstrated the qualities of a Master of Sinanju destined for posthumous greatness."
"So did he get the gig?" Remo asked.
"Of course," Chiun said. "The reputation of Sinanju had spread even to this barbaric part of the world. The king immediately retained Master Bal-Mung as his royal protector. You have heard, no doubt, that Siegfried possessed a powerful sword, as well as a cloak of invisibility."
"To tell you the truth, the only Siegfried I know was on 'Get Smart,'" Remo admitted sheepishly.
"Your lack of education aside," Chiun continued dryly, "history records that the Nibelungen king owned both of these items. History-as so often happens when it is recorded by whites-is wrong. The name of Siegfried's powerful sword is said even by those in the West to have been called Balmung. It is a distortion of the Master's name but not of his performance as defender of King Siegfried."
"I assume he was also Siegfried's cloak of invisibility?" Remo asked.
"That is true," Chiun confirmed. "At that time, the ability to shield oneself in darkness was long known to Sinanju. So the two things for which the greatness of Siegfried's rule are improperly credited are in fact rightly attributable to Sinanju. All hail the House of Sinanju."
"Okay, you've given me the background," Remo said. "But how did Bal-Mung the Good become Bal-Mung the Not-So-Good?"
"Master Bal-Mung did labor in the service of King Siegfried for many years. So many, in fact, that Siegfried did come to think of him as a friend."
"Whoops," Remo said. "I'll bet that cost him a pretty penny."
Chiun nodded. "It is a mistake to assume friendship in a royal assassin," Chiun agreed. "And it is right to take advantage when a king relaxes his guard. If only to instruct future kings on the folly of this presumption."
"Bal-Mung shafted him big-time, didn't he?" Remo said knowingly.
"It was agreed upon as a final tribute to the greatness that is Sinanju, that the entire wealth of the Nibelungen Hoard be bequeathed to Sinanju upon Siegfried's death. With the provision that the death come late in life and be of causes not unnatural."
"I presume Bal-Mung somehow got the shit end of the stick," Remo offered.
"Siegfried was murdered by a knave named Hagan at the behest of the dalkyrie Brunhild. There is his battle helmet," Chiun said, indicating with a sweep of his hand the shelf behind him on which sat the ancient rusted headgear and its attendant falcon. "Found near his slain body."
"So we forfeited the loot," Remo said.
Chiun seemed genuinely surprised. "Why should we have?"
"Well, it's pretty obvious. You said natural causes late in life. The guy was murdered."
"And for kings, there is no more natural a cause for death than treachery," Chiun said with bland surprise.
"Oh, boy," Remo said warily. He knew where this was heading. "What about late in life?" he challenged.
"There is no later point in anyone's life than the point of death," Chiun replied simply.
"Bulldookey," Remo said. "Bal-Mung lost the booty fair and square. Case closed."
"While I do not agree with your childishly silly reasoning, your conclusion is one that would have served Bal-Mung. Would that he had considered this a closed case. He would not have squandered years in search of the lost Nibelungen Hoard."
"Lost?" Remo asked. "When did it get lost?"
"Before his murder, Siegfried sent Bal-Mung off on a pointless journey to Gaul. While he was away, Siegfried hid the gold in a secret treasure cave beneath a mighty river, thought by many to be the Danube. The precise location was known only to Siegfried. It was said that those who had constructed the tunnel and moved the gold were executed in order to forever preserve the secret."
"I guess old Siegfried wasn't as big a dope as Bal-Mung thought he was," Remo said. "He stashed it away as an insurance policy."
"It did him no good," Chiun noted. "When the Master returned, he found the body of the Nibelungen king. Had Sinanju been at his side, his death would have been avoided. Bal-Mung spent the remainder of his masterhood in search of the Nibelungen Hoard. He never found it." Chiun hung his head as if this was a personal disgrace.
"So what about the thing that was stolen from here? The puzzle piece-was it Siegfried's or Bal-Mung's?"
"It is believed that it was meant for Sinanju. Before his death, Siegfried commissioned a carver to make for him a four-piece map that detailed the resting place of the treasure. A quarter of this was found by Bal-Mung near the body of the king. It had fallen in water and was doubtless overlooked by his attacker."
"So where are the other three pieces?"
"Hagan-Siegfried's murderer-was believed to have one in his possession. One was thought to have been sent to the Burgundian king Gunther, who was brother-in-law to Siegfried. Another was said to have been passed down to Siegfried's own illegitimate son. None of this is known for certain, for each piece of the puzzle was guarded to the point of paranoia by its possessors. Each one coveted the prize. Several of the principal players vanished in their attempt to search for the Hoard themselves. Bal-Mung hunted for the Nibelungen Hoard for many years but never recovered it. He finally returned to Sinanju, where he died in disgrace."
"And no one could figure out from their own section where the dough was?"
Chiun shook his head. "Each piece of the map detailed only a portion of the Hoard's true location. It was designed in such a way that, without the other three, a single piece would be useless. When this room was constructed, the Sinanju piece was placed on that shelf as a reminder of the folly of BalMung." Chiun's eyes were sorrowful as he looked at the barren shelf.
After hearing the story, Remo found it difficult to work up much enthusiasm for going after a scrap of wood. However, Chiun meant more to him than anyone else in the world. If it was important to Chiun, it was important to Remo.
"I'm sorry, Chiun," Remo said, "but I think it could be a lot worse. But my promise still goes. If you want to find whoever did this, you can count me in."
Chiun nodded. "It is important to preserve our history," he concluded. "Future generations should not forget the lesson of the foolish Bal-Mung."
"Okay," Remo said, getting to his feet. "I'll give Smith a call and see if he has any ideas."
>
Chiun rose to his feet as well, revealing the square of stone he had been sitting on. The Master of Sinanju began padding to the door.
Remo craned his neck around to look at the spot where Chiun had been sitting.
"There's been something I've meant to ask for a long time," Remo said suddenly. "What are these?" He nodded at the two stone tablets on which they had been sitting. There was some kind of ancient writing burned into the surface of each. The tablets appeared to have been shattered at one time and fastened back together. Ancient fissures crisscrossed the stone.
Chiun shrugged. "They were of some significance to the Hebrews at one time. A Babylonian prince awarded them to the House as a bonus after a relatively easy assignment. More worthless junk. My grandfather used them as bookends." With that, Chiun left the room.
Remo peered at the inscriptions in the rock. There were five separate lines on each. Ten in all.
He remembered Charlton Heston smashing similar tablets in an old movie.
Not wishing to think about the possible significance of what he and Chiun had been using as stools, Remo quickly exited the Sinanju library.
Chapter 14
A good night's sleep had done nothing for Smith's persistent headache. It had, however, beaten back the fatigue he had been feeling for more than two weeks.
He arrived at Folcroft late, coming in at the lazy hour of 7:00 a.m. He had just taken his seat behind his desk and was opening his drawer for the morning's first dose of aspirin when the blue phone rang.
He tucked the receiver between shoulder and ear. "Yes," he said crisply as he twisted the aspirin bottle cover.
"Only me, Smitty," Remo's voice announced. "Chiun and I need a little favor."
"What is it?" Smith asked. He tossed two pills back into his dry throat. Quickly he picked up a glass from his desk and swallowed a mouthful of tap water.
Remo hurriedly explained the Sinanju legend of Bal-Mung and the objects taken from Chiun's home. In conclusion, he said, "So I guess what we need to know is if there's some way you can track either the coins or the wood carving."
"That might be possible," Smith said. He turned on his computer, quickly logging on. He continued to talk even as he typed. "Do you believe there might be a connection between this and Four?"
"Why should I?" Remo asked.
"I assumed that was the point of your call," Smith explained. "The story you have described is the Nibelungenlied. It is an epic German poem of around 1200 A.D."
"Chiun, you didn't tell me these people were German," Remo said off the phone.
"Forgive me, but I assumed in you a level of cultural erudition," Chiun's squeaky voice called from the distance. "Obviously an error on my part."
"I wouldn't get too full of myself," Remo grumbled. "That ain't exactly Masterpiece Theatre you've been watching to death lately."
"I found them," Smith interjected, drawing Remo's attention back to the phone.
"Everything?" Remo asked, surprised at the speed with which the CURE director had tracked the items.
"Just the coins," Smith said. "Following the German pattern, I thought to begin my search there. They were offered to a rare coin dealer in Berlin by a Korean cultural representative. The merchant was concerned that the coins might be stolen, so he brought in the authorities. When their authenticity was confirmed, the Korean was remanded to the custody of his embassy. With no explanation for how he came by them, he was sent back to North Korea to face disciplinary measures for their possession."
"Where are the coins?"
"They are being sent along with him. The Korean government requested them for use in the trial. With the cultural official's diplomatic immunity, they were useless to the Germans as evidence."
"What's his name and when does he arrive?" Remo asked.
"Keijo Suk," Smith said. "His plane lands in Pyongyang at three o'clock, your time."
"Thanks, smitty," Remo said. "I owe you one." He hung up the phone. "Did you get all that?" he asked, turning to the Master of Sinanju.
"I did," Chiun said. He was standing impatiently near the front door, arms tucked inside the folds of his kimono sleeves. "However, he did not mention the carving."
"They probably didn't think too much about it," Remo reasoned. "The coins would be more important to them. Anyway, it won't do any good to sit here and think about it. Let's shake a leg."
Remo headed for the door. When he pulled on the handle he was surprised to find that he had yanked into the house someone who had been grabbing the knob from the other side. The intruder tumbled forward into him.
Remo grabbed the toppling stranger by the shoulders, setting her on her feet. He was about to demand that she identify herself when he realized he recognized her face.
"Hello, Remo," said Heidi Stolpe. She smiled guiltily.
"I DID NOT MISLEAD you completely," Heidi promised.
They were racing along the highway away from Sinanju in a government car Remo had liberated earlier that day from the Pyongyang airport parking lot. Remo was behind the wheel. Heidi sat beside him in the front. Chiun had positioned himself like royalty in the center of the rear seat.
"I was in South America in search of fugitive Nazis," she continued.
"But that was only part of it," Remo said angrily. Frozen mud fields whipped past the speeding car.
"Not at first," she insisted. "But eventually, yes. You see, I am a descendant of Gunther, whose sister Kriemhild was married to Siegfried."
"Your relatives must have the stupidest-looking headstones in Nibelung," Rerno said. "Wherever the hell that is."
Heidi persisted. "I only recently became aware of the legend surrounding the treasure. My uncle died, and I inherited my family's castle in the Harz Mountains. In his personal belongings was Gunther's portion of the block carving. It has been in my family's possession for fifteen hundred years."
"This carving. It is in good condition?" Chiun asked from the back seat. He feigned disinterest.
"The map has survived intact," she said to him. Remo could tell that Chiun was intrigued. However, the Master of Sinanju was playing it cool.
"Still," Chiun ventured, "with only two sections we are no nearer the gold."
"Not two sections," Heidi said excitedly. "Three. "
"How is this possible?" Chiun asked with a frown.
"At the Four village in South America," Heidi explained. "While the two of you were chasing after Kluge through the tunnels, I searched through the things he left behind. One of the sections of the carving had been packed in a box but not taken with him. I suppose he did not think it crucial to whatever future he has planned for his group."
"Wait a minute," Remo said. "While we were risking our necks, you were on some frigging scavenger hunt?"
"I do not have to explain myself to you," Heidi sniffed.
"Damned lucky for you," Remo replied angrily.
"How did you know Kluge would have a map section?" Chiun asked, steering them back to the most important topic.
"I did not mention that?" she asked, surprised. "According to what I have learned, he is a direct descendant of Siegfried. The block has been in his family for as long as we have owned our respective sections."
"You used us," Remo said. "You knew about Kluge all along. You used us to get yourself safely into the village."
"There is still the final quarter," Chiun insisted, pointedly ignoring Remo. "Which, according to rumor, fell into the hands of the murderer Hagen."
"That piece will be difficult," Heidi said thoughtfully. "Through my uncle's records, I traced both Siegfried's and Hagen's descendants. The last of the family of Hagan died out around the time the Nazis came to power. His land and possessions were confiscated by order of Hitler. If there was a fourth surviving piece, it was lost back then."
Chiun sank back into his seat. The glimmer of hope threatened to fade from his hazel eyes. "Then we, too, are lost," he lamented.
"Not necessarily," Heidi stressed. "We have three out of fo
ur sections. It is possible that we could piece together enough of the map to locate the treasure."
"I suppose I don't have to remind you, Chiun, that she was in Sinanju to steal our piece of the map," Remo called over his shoulder.
Chiun stroked his thread of beard pensively. "She is enterprising," the Master of Sinanju offered. "It is an attractive trait. What did you have in mind, daughter of Gunther?"
"Whatever we recover will be split ninety/ten."
"That would be acceptable," Chiun nodded. Heidi seemed surprised. "I did not think you would agree to such an arrangement. According to my family record, the House of Sinanju is quite greedy."
"Give him a minute," Remo warned.
Chiun waved a magnanimous hand. "Ours is a reputation undeserved," Chiun proclaimed. "You have done much work. You have earned your ten percent."
"Bingo." Remo grinned.
"What?" Heidi demanded.
"It is a large sum, surely," Chiun said, considering. "Perhaps I should allow you only five. What do you think, Remo?"
"Don't get me in the middle of this," Remo said. Heidi was livid. Her porcelain skin had flushed red. "If anyone is getting five percent, it is you," she challenged.
"Are you mad, girl?" Chiun asked, shocked. "You did not believe I would allow you to steal nine-tenths of my money?"
"Your money?"
Chiun grew indignant. "The treasure is the rightful property of the House of Sinanju. If I so desired, I could keep the entire amount myself."
"Without my half of the map, your quarter is useless," Heidi reminded him.
"And without my quarter, your half is useless," Chiun countered.
Heidi fumed. "Seventy/thirty," she said eventually. "The seventy goes to me," she added quickly.
"That is ludicrous," Chiun huffed. "Sixty/forty. In the favor of Sinanju."
"No," Heidi insisted stubbornly.
"As an impartial observer who doesn't give a wet fart in a windbreaker about the gold, why not split it fifty/fifty?" Remo suggested.
"Outrageous," Chiun snapped.
"Out of the question," Heidi sniffed.
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