By Eminent Domain td-124

by Warren Murphy

  The old man's face was deadly serious.

  "You cannot always stomp and tear your way through life, Remo," the Master of Sinanju warned. "If you are not using me as a set of walking bolt cutters, you are attacking with your own clumsy mitts. While I know you stubbornly refuse to grow your nails to their proper length, be on guard. For the false Master of legend might."

  Remo sighed. "Let's see about that," he said with tired determination. He turned to Anna. "Does this soldier of yours have long fingernails or short?"

  It was one of the few times in his life he could remember seeing Anna Chutesov react with surprise. The moment her face fell, he knew he was right.

  Anna quickly regained her composure.

  "Just because he is Russian does not make him my responsibility," she said.

  "No, him being your responsibility makes him your responsibility," Remo replied. He shook his head, annoyed. "You think I'm blind, deaf and dumb, Anna? I remember what that crazy Russian general said back in California just before he died. He said you'd stolen something from us. And you kept trying to shoot him before he could talk, just like the guys you've been shooting left and right here. It's that dumbass Mactep program you told us about. The one where the Russian government tried to blackmail us into going to work for them. When that failed, they put their best agent on the case. You. And the first thing you did was track down that nutbar Purcell in order to train your unholy army of the night. That's why you're here. To try to put the toothpaste back in the tube and keep us from finding out in the process. You double-crossed us, Anna. And don't lie, because in spite of what you, Chiun and the whole damn world might think, I'm not stupid."

  As he spoke, Anna appeared to grow very small and cold. The weight of more than ten years of betrayal seemed to suddenly fall like lead onto her shoulders, her body sagging -beneath its great burden.

  "It is not what you think, Remo," she said softly. "The decision to do this was taken out of my hands long ago."

  Beside Remo, Chiun's face grew shocked. "Do my ears hear true?" the old man gasped. "It is you who has stolen food from the mouths of the children of Sinanju?"

  Anna's shoulders sank lower. She raised her head, defiant eyes of blue now filled with shame. "Yes," she said.

  The wizened Korean's eyes saucered. "Perfidy!" he whispered. "Jezebel! Viper in our very midst! I knew you were harboring a secret, woman, but this?" He spun on Remo. "If you value the sanctity of our traditions, you will slay this treacherous female at once," he commanded.

  Remo's head was bowed. He was very quiet as he considered his teacher's words. The world around him seemed to still. The airport below, the men, the helicopters-all were background noise. A chorus of nothing.

  When he at last raised his head, his eyes were filled with some unreadable emotion.

  "This is bad, Anna," he said in a voice soft and cold.

  She winced at his words.

  "Bad?" Chiun scoffed. "It is an outrage. If you will not slay her, I will." When he took a step toward Anna, he found Remo's outstretched arm blocking his way. "You cannot protect her, Remo," he warned. "Not with what she has done. Tradition in this matter is clear."

  Remo was trying to think. "I know," he snapped. "Dammit, I know." When he looked back to Anna, he shook his head. "This is bad, Anna," he repeated, in a voice more frightening given the quiet conviction with which the words were delivered.

  And that was all. He turned from her and headed down the hill.

  Chiun shot her an evil look. With a shake of his head that snapped the flaps of his winter hat, he followed his pupil down to the airport.

  At the top of the hill near the torn-apart fence, Anna stood alone. For a long moment she seemed to be trying to gather strength.

  It had happened. After so many years of skulking and guilt, her worst fear had become a reality. And in the keenly analytical mind of Anna Chutesov, the outcome-at least for her-was now inevitable.

  She finally moved, trudging down the hill on feet of lead: In the corners of her ice-blue eyes were frozen tears.

  Chapter 29

  Piles of plowed snow lined the runway. Low-lying buildings offered cover for their approach. They made it down to the tarmac's edge undetected, stopping behind a pile of dirty snow.

  "How many guys were trained, exactly?" Remo asked Anna once she'd caught up to them.

  "One hundred and sixty-two," Anna admitted. Both Masters of Sinanju knew she was telling the truth.

  "Are they all in Alaska?"

  "No. Eighteen remain in Moscow. Six are with the three Russian presidents who oversaw Mactep. Twelve more are recent trainees. They are at a safehouse near the Institute. I had not introduced them yet to the others in the program."

  "How many have we knocked off so far, Little Father?" Remo asked Chiun.

  "Thirty-two," the Master of Sinanju replied. Remo started to add the numbers in his head. Seeing that they could be there all night, Chiun exhaled annoyance.

  "That leaves 130," the old man hissed. "From that we take away the eighteen she claims are not here. Assuming she is not lying about that, too."

  "I'm not," Anna promised, shamefaced.

  "Okay, that's 114 here."

  Chiun gave him a withering look. "And what was your excuse for skipping your math lessons?" he asked thinly.

  "Didn't skip. Slept. Why, that's not right?"

  "It is 112," Chiun snapped.

  Remo turned back to Anna. "This guy who's supposed to be such hot stuff. He included with them?" She had only been half listening. Head swimming, she was seeing the world now from the end of a long, dark tunnel.

  "Skachkov is one of them," she nodded.

  "Fine," Remo said. "We take out the choppers and hopefully keep your guys contained. With any luck we can get rid of all the ones here before they skip town."

  He didn't even look at Anna.

  The two Masters of Sinanju ducked around the dirty snow pile. Anna followed. Unzipping her parka pocket, she pulled out her automatic and headed out onto the tarmac.

  Beyond the runway's edge, the three of them split up. Remo and Chiun left the nearest gunship to Anna. The two Masters of Sinanju glided toward the next helicopters, veering apart after a few yards.

  Remo's Hind had no guard. Unseen, he ducked under the belly of the helicopter. There was a panel under the tail assembly. When he popped it, he found a greasy cable.

  Remo grabbed the thick cable in both hands, snapping it in two. Running up the back of the compartment was a plastic hose. When he ripped it out, a river of oily black fluid splattered to the ground. Two more panels surrendered handfuls of multicolored wires.

  "I might not know what makes it work, but I know what makes it not," Remo muttered to himself. Dropping the wires to the frozen ground, he slipped out from beneath the Hind. On swift, silent feet, he struck off toward the next in line.

  ACROSS THE WINDSWEPT runway, the Master of Sinanju slid unseen past a pair of armed soldiers. Once he was out of their line of sight, he moved under his helicopter's tail.

  Coming up on the far side, the old Korean bounded up onto the wing. Not stopping long enough for the skirts of his kimono to settle, he jumped to the roof. Sure feet found the outer fuselage.

  Ducking below the main rotor, Chiun raced down the narrowing length of the tail. At the far end, one bony hand took hold of the crooked swept fin as the other found the thick bolt of the stabilizing rotor. With the scoring edge of his index nail he made two neat swipes across the bolt.

  That was all. Finished with his task, he floated back to the ground. He hit at a sprint. Hands and feet pumping in perfect rhythm, the Master of Sinanju moved like a great flapping butterfly to the next helicopter.

  THE HIND'S INTERIOR was cold and dark.

  No one had seen her climb aboard. Anna Chutesov made sure no one was watching as she slid the cabin door closed. She latched it tightly.

  She made her careful way up through the main cabin to the cockpit.

  The extreme nose w
as empty. Gunner and navigator were not aboard. Above, the pilot was gone, as well. Sitting alone in the chilly upper level, the copilot was securing a small instrument panel, his back to Anna. With fumbling fingers he dropped a small screw to the floor.

  When it rolled from sight, he swore softly to himself. They were the last words he ever spoke.

  Anna raised her automatic and fired a single round. The bullet struck the man in the back of the head, and the copilot fell across his chair.

  Anna dumped the body out of the way. Pocketing her gun, she slid into the pilot's seat. With swift, experienced hands she began the start-up routine.

  All around, the Hind seemed to shiver as the helicopter's engine coughed to life. As the rotors began to slowly turn, Anna watched them slice overhead. Shadows of a guillotine that seemed to drop lower and lower toward the doomed head of Anna Chutesov.

  REMO WAS TEARING the guts from his third gunship when he heard Anna's helicopter splutter awake. When he turned, he saw the Russian agent through the cockpit bubble. She was fussing with the control panel.

  "What the hell?" Remo asked.

  The Master of Sinanju was just flouncing up beside him. The old man's lips thinned when he spied Anna. "What's she think she's doing?" Remo demanded.

  "Betraying us," Chiun said, his tone matter-of-fact. He shot a look over his shoulder.

  The instant the tiny Korean looked away, Remo felt the pressure waves of a rifle barrel aiming his way. With it came a few shouted voices. He glanced back just as the lead Russian in an advancing squad of soldiers opened fire.

  Dodging bullets, Remo frowned at his teacher. "Care to explain yourself?" he asked as more Russians joined the first. Pockmarks peppered the nearby Hind.

  "Only the moon can hide the sun," Chiun replied, swirling like a gaily colored pinwheel around a hail of lead.

  "That a highfalutin way of saying you were spotted?"

  The old man raised a haughty brow. "If I was, it was probably due to the distraction of having to worry about how you plan to deal with your treacherous harlot."

  For this, Remo had no response. As bullets trailed him, he ducked under the Hind. Chiun followed. They had no sooner reached the far side than the shooting stopped. At the same time, they heard the distinct sound of more gunships spluttering to life. "And once more, Remo, your misplaced trust begets more betrayal," Chiun sniffed.

  "Lay off," Remo said. His senses had suddenly tripped alert. "We've got company."

  Chiun had felt it, too. The displaced air of advancing troops. Except unlike regular men, there were no accompanying footfalls or straining muscles.

  When the first cautious face peered out from under the belly of the Hind, Remo grabbed a fistful of hood and steered the Russian's head into the helicopter's side. Flesh met metal with a crunching clang.

  Several more men scurried into view, all dressed in the familiar uniforms of Anna Chutesov's Institute soldiers.

  "Their breathing is pitiful," Chiun remarked. To underscore that point, eight sharp talons pierced a chest between ribs. They reappeared dragging dangling lungs in their wake like inside-out pockets.

  "I'm thinking they're not even as good as ninjas," Remo said as he took out two more. "See? Simple thrusts at half-speed. Chuck Norris on a bad-wig day would've dodged that."

  Chiun sent a heel into a brittle sternum. "Yes," he agreed. "They lack the finesse of even the lowly Japanese. If the Dutchman is responsible for them, he is a better adversary than he is a teacher."

  Ten of the Institute men had been left to guard the airport. They flashed through the last few in no time. Remo twisted the head of the final Russian. With a blinding snap, it completed two full circles on a rubbery neck column.

  "And that's the end of that chapter," he said, clapping imaginary dust from his hands.

  More shouts in Russian. Remo wasn't sure if he should be relieved they weren't directed at either him or Chiun.

  "What now?" he complained.

  When he and the Master of Sinanju raced back to the main runway, they found the soldiers who had flown in with Vladimir Zhirinsky from Russia had taken an interest in Anna's helicopter. Some were moving to surround it.

  Inside the Hind, Anna had climbed down into the gunner's cockpit.

  "What's she think she's doing?" Remo asked. His question was answered in the next instant. Like a blaze of hellfire, a Swatter missile erupted from the outboard pylon of Anna's Hind. Hopping the launch rail, the laser-guided missile screamed across the runway, impacting with the side of another helicopter.

  The Hind exploded in a cloud of brilliant yellow. No sooner had she fired the first missile than she let a second fly. Another idling Hind was engulfed in flame. The airport shook as smoking debris rained all around.

  Anna's missiles had sent the Russian army scattering. Many raced for cover in a nearby hangar. Those who remained outside ran smack-dab into Remo and Chiun.

  The first soldier in line tried to shoot Remo. Remo prevented him from doing so. He did this by separating from the rest of his body that part of the soldier's anatomy that was responsible for telling said rest of his body to do such nasty things as shoot people or swear or think unkind thoughts.

  When they saw Remo lop off the soldier's head, the rest of the army froze. When he held the head aloft for them to examine, they gulped.

  "Okay, here's the deal," Remo announced, waggling the head. "No surrendski mean no headski, capisce?"

  Although the language was foreign, some things were universal. Forty rifles clattered to the ground, and eighty hands shot into the air.

  "While we've got their attention, ask them where the nuke is," Remo said to the Master of Sinanju. There were a lot of shrugs from the crowd. A few men replied in Russian, waving vaguely in the same direction.

  "They think it is in the center of town," Chiun said. "But they do not know where exactly."

  "Big help," Remo sighed. "Now we need a POW camp."

  At the coaxing of the two Masters of Sinanju, the soldiers were quickly herded into the hangar where the rest had sought cover. Remo was dragging the door shut when he heard the sound of a helicopter lifting off. When he wheeled around, he saw that it was one of the first that had been in line when he and Chiun came onto the airport.

  "Damn-tit, Chiun, that was yours," he griped.

  He made a move to intercept the still-hovering Hind but the Master of Sinanju took him by the wrist, holding fast.

  "Ye of little faith," the old man said calmly.

  The instant he spoke, Remo's hypersensitive ears heard a gentle ping within the roar of the gunship's engine. Sharp eyes followed the sound. Only then did Remo see the faint marks where Chiun's hardened fingernails had scored the tail-rotor bolt.

  As he watched, the metal pulled apart like taffy. It grew brittle all at once, snapping in two.

  The three-bladed tail rotor shrieked as it skipped off the swept fin, striking the ground in a spray of sparks. Chewing up frozen asphalt, it bounced across the runway, burying itself deep in the side of a stationary helicopter.

  Without its stabilizing rotor, the tail of the Hind began to spin. It completed a half circle before the tip struck pavement, drawing the spinning rotors of the listing helicopter inexorably toward. the ground.

  As the guiding edges of the blades were kissing the pavement, Remo and Chiun were ducking around the side of the hangar to avoid the chunks of flying shrapnel.

  They found the soldiers they'd locked inside the hangar trying to sneak out a side door. When Remo took off another head, the remaining men hightailed it back inside.

  "Don't make me come in there," he warned, slapping the door shut. As he banged it closed, an explosion sounded out on the runway.

  When Remo and Chiun emerged into the open, the flames from the crashed Hind fed a thick black cloud that rose into the frosty white sky. And through the smoke flew three more Hinds.

  Remo immediately spied Anna in the trailing helicopter. For a moment he thought she was going to fire on t
he other two. But as he watched, the nose of her Hind spun away. With a scream of engines, the helicopter tore off in the opposite direction. Away from the other two Hinds, away from Fairbanks. Away from Remo.

  His face darkened as he watched her make good her escape. "So much for the old team effort," he grunted.

  Before them, one of the gunships had swirled to face the hangar. The four-barrel guns in the remotecontrol turret under the nose screamed to life, chewing the ground at Remo and Chiun's feet. Frightened shouts issued from within the hangar as bullets pierced the flimsy walls.

  With an angry scowl Remo stooped, snapping up a chunk of smoking rotor blade. His body automatically compensated for the heat of the metal by producing a protective sheen of sweat on his palm. Hefting the metal fragment over one shoulder, Remo dropped his arm. With an audible snap the metal left his fingers.

  Whistling all the way, the blade segment zoomed through the air, impacting with the nose of the firing Hind. The metal tore up through the cockpit at an angle, striking the gunner square in the face. Continuing up in a deadly spiral, it made it as far as the main cockpit before coming to a final, fatal stop in the chin of the pilot.

  With a lurch the helicopter plopped back to the runway.

  By this time the second airborne Hind had gotten its bearings. Nose tilted, its weapons were aimed squarely at Remo and Chiun.

  Remo grabbed another chunk of broken rotor blade. The Master of Sinanju quickly tugged it from his hands.

  "You already had your turn," the old man clucked. Remo eyed the helicopter warily. It had not yet fired its guns, yet the gunner could still be seen through the frontal dome fussing around his instruments.

  "No fooling, Chiun," Remo warned. "I think he's going for the rockets this time."

  The Master of Sinanju held his ground. "Wait," he commanded.

  Narrowed eyes grew tighter until they became slits of wrinkled parchment as the old man studied the movements of the gunner. When the Russian finally lunged for the panel, Chiun made his move.

  The broken rotor section was up and around in a slivered heartbeat. Kimono sleeves snapping, the metal left his bony hand like a jet-propelled spear.