Holy Terror

by Warren Murphy

  “You know, I don’t think I like you,” said Dor.

  “I could beat you by telephone,” said Hunt.

  Dor looked at him, at the studied insolence in Hunt’s eyes, so different from the look of bland confusion that was there when he first entered the room. The maharaji decided he could ignore the challenge in order to harness Hunt’s talent. He said:

  “One hundred thousand dollars. Kill them both.”

  “Their names?”

  “All we’ve heard so far is Remo and Chiun. They’re probably in San Francisco.”

  “Too bad for them,” said Hunt, and he enjoyed saying it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Today, Remo thought, Joleen was almost human.

  She had spent the previous evening sitting quietly, listening intently, as Chiun had gently lectured the girls of the San Francisco Divine Bliss Mission; then late at night she had tried to join Chiun on his sleeping mat in the large bedroom that had been given to Remo and Chiun.

  But Chiun had flitted her away with a swish of his hand, and she had settled for Remo and climbed into his bed, and because he was tired and wanted to sleep, Remo serviced her, just so that he did not have to listen to her talk.

  The cab episode yesterday had weakened her insane devotion to Maharaji Gupta Mahesh Dor, and their sojourn in bed last night must have weakened her even further, Remo decided, because today she was talking like a human being and not like a recorded announcement.

  Chiun, meanwhile, had spent the morning complaining that insects had bothered him all night, while he tried to sleep, and when Remo said they had not bothered him, Chiun had suggested that they would not bother one of their own.

  Now they sat in the front seat of a rented car, Joleen sandwiched between Chiun and Remo.

  “I do not understand,” said Joleen.

  “Hear, hear,” said Remo.

  “If you are a Master,” she said, “what then is the maharaji?”

  “For small people there are small things,” said Chiun. “For large people, there are large things. It is the same with masters.”

  Joleen did not answer. She clamped her mouth tightly and thought. Chiun looked across her body toward Remo.

  “Where are we going?” asked Chiun. “I did not know we could reach Sinanju by automobile.”

  “We are not going to Sinanju. Now knock it off.”

  “I think this one is cruel,” Joleen said to Chiun, nodding her head toward Remo.

  “Ah, how well you know him. See, Remo. She knows you. Cruel.”

  “Don’t forget arrogant,” said Remo.

  “Yes, child,” Chiun said to Joleen. “Do not forget arrogant. Or, for that matter, slothful, inept, lazy, and stupid.”

  “Yet he is your disciple,” she said.

  “To make beauty from a diamond is given to many men,” said Chiun. “Ah, but to make beauty from a pale piece of pig’s ear is something else. That takes the skill of a master. I am still trying to make him seem human. Beauty will come later.” He folded his arms.

  “Could you make beauty of me?” she said.

  “More easily than of him. You have not his bad habits. He is a racist.”

  “I hate racists,” Joleen said. “My father is a racist.”

  “Ask the racist where we’re going,” said Chiun.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking us out for some fresh air. All that incense and bowing and scraping was getting me down.”

  “See. He is an ingrate too,” Chiun confided. “People willingly open their doors to him, and he downgrades their gift and their hospitality. What an American. If he tells you he will take you back to Patna, do not believe him. White men never keep their promises to others.”

  “Hey, Chiun. She’s as white as I am. She’s from Georgia for Christ’s sake.”

  “I don’t think I want to go back to Patna anymore,” Joleen announced suddenly.

  “See,” said Chiun. “She is different from you. Already she grows in wisdom, while you have learned less than nothing in the last decade of your years.”

  Remo pulled the car to the curb. “All right, everybody out. We’re going to walk.”

  “See,” said Chiun. “How he orders us about. Oh, perfidy.”

  Chiun stepped onto the sidewalk and looked around. “Is this Disneyland?” he asked aloud.

  Remo, surprised, looked around him. A small carnival to benefit St. Aloysius Roman Catholic Church had been erected on an asphalted parking lot a half-block away.

  “Yes,” said Remo. “It’s Disneyland.”

  “I forgive you, Remo, for being a racist. I have always wanted to visit Disneyland. Forget everything I said,” he told Joleen. “Who brings the Master to Disneyland is not all bad.”

  “But…” Joleen started to speak. Remo took her elbow. “Quiet, kid,” he said. “Just enjoy Disneyland.” He squeezed. She understood.

  Chiun’s body meanwhile was moving up and down as if he were jumping in joy, while keeping his feet planted firmly on the sidewalk. His long saffron robe looked like a pillow case into which shots of air were being jetted, causing it to rise, then deflate, rise, then deflate.

  “I love Disneyland,” said Chiun. “How many rides can I go on?”

  “Four,” said Remo.

  “Six,” said Chiun.

  “Five,” said Remo.

  “Agreed. Do you have money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “For her too?”

  “Yes,” said Remo.

  “Come, child. Remo is taking us to Disneyland.”

  “First, I’ve got to make a phone call.”

  · · ·

  Ferdinand De Chef Hunt drove slowly back into San Francisco. The city confused him with its maze like streets that seemed to run from hill to hill and then vanish.

  With help he found Union Street and with more help found the building that housed the San Francisco Divine Bliss Mission. If these two targets, this Remo and Chiun, were looking for Dor around San Francisco, they had probably stopped at the mission.

  They had.

  “They were here. They were here,” said the arch-priest Krishna. “He had a badge,” he said.

  “Where are they now?”

  “They just called. They’re at a carnival down near Fisherman’s Wharf.”

  “Do they know where Dor is?”

  “Man, how could they know? I don’t even know.”

  “If they should return tonight, don’t let them know that I was here,” said Hunt. “With luck, they won’t be returning.”

  “Am I supposed to be taking orders from you?” asked Krishna.

  Hunt extracted a folded piece of paper from his wallet.

  Krishna opened it and read the handwritten message from Dor, introducing Hunt as his chief emissary.

  “Heavy, man,” said Krishna, handing back the note. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hail to his Blissful perfection.”

  “Sure, sure, sure. When did they leave?”

  “An hour ago. If you see the Blissful Master again, tell him our mission joyously awaits his presence in our city.”

  “Right. He’ll really be impressed,” said Hunt.

  Hunt went back down the high stone stairs of the building. In a parked car across the street, Elton Snowy watched him carefully.

  “What do you think, Elton?” asked one of the two men in the back seat.

  “I don’t know, Puling, but I think we ought to follow him.”

  Hunt got into his old MG and pulled smoothly away from the curb.

  “Well, then, let’s follow him,” said Puling. “If it turns out that he’s nothing, this here building’ll still be here.”

  “All right,” said Snowy, starting the car and pulling into the street.

  “Follow that car,” giggled Puling. The man next to him let out a Dixie war whoop.

  “We gonna stomp that kidnapper,” said t
he man next to Snowy.

  Snowy sighed and drove.

  Hunt saw the big black car behind him but attached no significance to it. His mind was busy with the prospect of what was ahead, and he felt a pleasurable tingle of anticipation suffuse his entire body. He was on his way to a carnival to do what his family had done so well for so many years, and he looked forward to it. It seemed as if his whole life had been pointed toward just this moment.

  “I want to go on the boats.”

  “You can’t go on the boats. That’s a kid’s ride.”

  “Tell me where it says that,” said Chiun. “Just show me where it says that.”

  “Right there,” Remo said, pointing at a sign. “Kiddy Village. What do you think that means?”

  “I don’t think it means that I may not ride on the boats.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of looking foolish?” said Remo. He looked toward the boats, four of them, bathtub length, in a circular moat, two feet wide and holding six inches of water. The boats were connected by iron pipes to the motor in the center of the moat. A carnival worker with a dirty, ripped T-shirt and a leather band around his thick right wrist operated the motor from the gate four feet away, at which he also doubled as ticket seller and collector.

  “Only a fool looks foolish,” said Chiun, “and only a fool twice over worries about it. I want to ride on the boats.” He turned toward Joleen. “Tell him I can ride on the boats. You two are both white, maybe you can make him understand.”

  “Remo, let the Master ride the boat.”

  “He doesn’t want to spend the 25 cents,” said Chiun. “I have sometimes seen him waste whole dollars at a time, and he begrudges me 25 cents.”

  “All right, all right, all right,” said Remo. “But we agreed on five rides. This is your fourth.”

  “Remo, I tell you this as absolute truth. If you let me go on the boat, I won’t even ask for the fifth ride.”

  “Okay,” said Remo.

  Remo went up to the ticket seller and fished a quarter from his pocket. “One,” he said.

  The ticket man smiled a gap-toothed grin at Remo. “Sure it won’t be too fast for you?”

  “It’s not for me, sweetheart. Now let’s have the ticket before I tell the police of thirteen states that I found you.”

  “Okay, wiseass,” said the ticket man. He ripped a ticket from a thick roll. “Here.” He took the quarter.

  “Do yourself another favor,” said Remo. “When this ticket is used, don’t say anything.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t make any comments and don’t try to be a smartass. Just do yourself some good and keep your big mouth shut.”

  “You know, I don’t like you. I think I’d like to work you over.”

  “I know, except you’re worried I might be related to your parole officer. Just do what I said. No remarks.”

  Remo walked away and handed the ticket to Chiun who looked disappointed.

  “None for her?”

  “She didn’t say she wanted one.”

  “Do you want one, girl? Do not be afraid,” said Chiun. “Remo is very rich. He can afford it.”

  “No, that’s all right,” she said.

  Chiun nodded, then walked toward the “Splashy-Washy,” Remo at his side. “I’m kind of glad she didn’t want to ride,” he confided. “Screaming women annoy me.”

  Chiun handed his ticket to the ticket taker, who looked at the frail old Oriental, then at Remo. Remo raised his right index finger to his lips, suggesting silence.

  “Be sure to fasten your seat belt, Papasan,” said the ticket taker. “Wouldn’t want you falling out and drowning.”

  “I will. I will,” said Chiun. He stepped forward past the ticket taker and walked around the shallow moat. He got into a blue boat, carefully arranging his robes around him on the narrow seat, then quickly got out and walked toward a red boat. Heading toward the red boat at that moment was a five-year-old girl, her face smiling, long golden hair splashing about her face, short dress bobbing up behind her rump as she skipped. Chiun saw her coming and broke into a run.

  They reached the red boat at the same time.

  Each paused.

  Chiun pointed toward the sky. “Look! Look!” he said in a voice of astonishment. “Look up there!”

  The little girl followed Chiun’s finger and looked up. As her head went up, Chiun darted by her, jumping into the red boat. When the girl looked down, he was already settled in the seat.

  Her face wrinkled up, and she seemed about to cry.

  “The blue boat is nicer,” said Chiun.

  “I want to ride in the red boat,” she said.

  “Go ride in the blue boat.”

  “But I want to ride in the red boat.”

  “So do I,” said Chiun, “and I got here first. Be gone with you.”

  The little girl stamped her foot. “Get out of my boat.”

  Chiun folded his arms across his chest. “Try the blue boat,” he said.

  “No,” she said.

  “I will not force you to ride in the blue boat,” said Chiun. “You may stand there forever if you wish.”

  “Get out of my boat,” the little girl cried.

  “Yeah, old-timer, get out of her boat,” said the ticket taker.

  Remo tapped the ticket taker on the shoulder. “You forgot already, pal,” he said. “Remember what I said? No talk. Do yourself a favor. Butt out.”

  “I’m running this ride. He should get out of the red boat.”

  “You going to tell him that?”

  “You bet your ass I am,” said the ticket taker, standing up.

  “Where do you want the remains sent?” asked Remo.

  The ticket taker stomped off, and took a place alongside the little girl, looking down at Chiun.

  “Get out of that boat.”

  “She can ride in the blue one,” said Chiun. “And you can ride in the yellow one.”

  “She’s riding in the red one.”

  Chiun turned sideways in the seat so he did not have to look at the man’s face. “Start the ride,” he said. “I’m tired of waiting.”

  “Not until you get out of there.”

  Chiun called, “Remo, make him start the ride.”

  Remo turned his back so no one would know he knew Chiun.

  “You whites all stick together,” grumbled Chiun.

  “No snotty cracks either,” said the ticket taker. “If you don’t like this country, go back where you came from.”

  Chiun sighed and turned. “That is good advice. Why don’t you follow it?”

  “This is where I came from.”

  “No, it is not,” said Chiun. “Does not your book say, ‘From dust you came, to dust you go’?”

  Remo heard that and turned in time to see Chiun rise up in his seat, his saffron robe swirling about him. Before Remo could move, the ticket taker was spread-eagled across the bow of the small fiberglass boat, his face under the water.

  “Chiun, knock it off already,” said Remo, moving toward the boat.

  “That’s right, take his side,” said Chiun, still holding the flailing man’s head under water.

  “Let him go, Chiun,” called Remo.

  “No.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” said Remo. “No more rides.” He turned his back.

  “Wait, Remo. Wait. See. I let him go. See. He is all right. See. Tell him you’re all right.” Chiun slapped the man’s face. “Stop your stupid choking, and tell him you are all right.”

  The ticket taker caught his breath and pulled back from Chiun in fright. He looked at Remo who shrugged an I-told-you-so shrug. “Better start the ride,” he said.

  The ticket taker went back to his chair and turned the knob to the on position. The engine chugged and the boat started. The five-year-old shouted in anger. Remo took a dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “Go buy yourself some ice cream, and you can have the red boat on the next ride.”

  The girl snatched
the bill from Remo’s hand and raced away. Chiun’s boat floated gently past Remo. “I see you got rid of that sniveling little wretch,” he said. “Good for you.”

  “Better make it a long ride,” said Remo as he walked back past the ticket taker, to rejoin Joleen.

  · · ·

  By the time Ferdinand De Chef Hunt reached the amusement park, he was sure the black car behind him was following him. So he carefully parked his car in a restaurant driveway a block from the carnival, darted into the side door of the restaurant, through the dining room, and out the door on the other side of the building.

  He carefully made his way along the wooden and concrete piers for another half block until he was opposite the carnival. Glancing behind him, he saw no sign of his pursuers and walked casually across the street toward the park.

  Now to find those two men, what were their names?—Remo and Chiun.

  · · ·

  Chiun leaned over the wooden railing and carefully rolled a nickel off his fingertips. It arced forward, turning over-exactly one revolution, then landed absolutely flat on a platform slightly raised above the asphalt floor. The nickel stopped in the direct center of a small red circle, one of hundreds of red circles painted on a large piece of white linoleum. The circles were only slightly larger in diameter than a nickel. A player won a prize if his nickel landed fully on a red circle, and did not overlap into the white border.

  “Another winner,” called Chiun.

  The concession operator looked skyward as if asking for mercy.

  “This time I want the pink rabbit,” said Chiun. Behind him stood Remo and Joleen, their arms filled with plush toys, small games, stuffed animals. Remo precariously dangled a goldfish bowl, complete with occupant, from the fingers of his right hand.

  The operator took a small pink stuffed rabbit from a shelf in the rear of the booth and handed it to Chiun. “Okay, here you are. Now why not go someplace else?”

  “Why not is because I want to play this game,” said Chiun.

  “Yeah, but you’re wiping me out,” said the operator. “You’ve won nineteen prizes in a row.”

  “Yes, and I’m going to win more.”