Encounter Group td-56

by Warren Murphy

  "He says his name is Thad Screiber, and he claims he's a reporter," the blonde said loudly. It was clear she was speaking to the weird object.

  When the object replied in an unearthly voice, Pavel felt his flesh crawl a little.

  "You have moved the warhead to a safe location, Preparation Group Leader?" the voice demanded unemotionally.

  "Two of our people are guarding it now," Amanda Bull said.

  "We are then at a dangerous juncture in our plans to dismantle America's nuclear arsenal."

  Dismantle America's nuclear arsenal? Pavel thought incredulously. And what was this about a warhead?

  "What do we do with this reporter, World Master?" Amanda asked. "He followed us here and could wreck everything. Should I shoot him? I wouldn't mind."

  This brought some grumblings of discontent from the others in the group. The reporter swayed a little on his knees. He looked a little green, but that might have been the lights.

  "Quiet!" Amanda snapped at the others.

  "No, shooting him will accomplish nothing," the strange voice spoke.

  Everyone looked relieved, including Thad Screiber. He shut his eyes in relief and so did not see the blue needle of light suddenly stab from the UFO and impale him for a moment in eternity. The beam went completely through him at a downward angle and started a small fire on the ground behind him. Thad Screiber fell back into the tiny flames, and his dead body smothered those flames.

  "But demonstrating my power will," the World Master intoned. "Have some of you forgotten the gravity of our work? If so, then consider this: you have participated in the theft of one of your nation's most dangerous and important weapons. In the eyes of your people, you are all traitors. Only by continuing along the path I have marked and creating a new world order can you escape capture and execution. No one must stand in our way."

  The barn held a long silence in which beautiful light played along its walls and on the faces of its stunned occupants. Even Amanda Bull was shocked by the stern tone of the World Master. She recovered her composure long enough to say, "Preparation Group Number Two stands ready to fulfill its glorious destiny."

  "Excellent," the reedy voice commented. "And your destiny will be glorious, I promise you. In the new world, you will all be giants. Future generations will sing your praises. But first, we must insure that there will be a future for your tiny planet, which is my planet's mission."

  "Orders?" Amanda asked stiffly.

  "You will transport the Titan warhead to the center of the population area known as Oklahoma City and detonate it."

  Amanda swallowed hard. Ethel Sump fainted, and the others looked as if they wanted to. Pavel Zarnitsa felt none too good himself. From what he could piece together, it sounded very much as if World War III was about to be started by a bunch of Americans, on orders from a being from another planet!

  And there was no doubt in his mind that if Oklahoma City should be obliterated, America's nuclear finger would swiftly be pointed to Soviet Russia.

  Pavel knew he couldn't allow that. He was about to move from where he crouched when the barn doors were flung open and a strident voice announced, "Hail all! The Master of the House of Sinanju brings greetings to the Master of the House of Beetle Goose!"

  Chiun, resplendent in his green ceremonial robes, strode boldly into the startled group. Remo, more wary, stood at his side.

  Amanda Bull whipped her gun up toward Chiun but Remo cleared the distance between them before a shot could be fired, and suddenly Amanda was staring at her empty gun hand, which stung painfully.

  Remo extracted the clip, cleared the chamber, and tossed the weapon aside.

  "You won't be needing that," he told her.

  "Yes," Chiun called out, "no violence is necessary. We have come in peace. We have come to resume ties with the House of Beetle Goose."

  "If you have come here with peaceful intent," the World Master said, "then speak."

  "There has been a misunderstanding between our houses, World Master," Chiun said. "I wish a private audience."

  "As proof of your peaceful intent, you will allow your companion to be held prisoner during your audience."

  "Done," Chiun said. "Remo, return the woman's weapon."

  "Chiun, I don't like this. These clowns were just talking about blowing up Oklahoma City."

  "Remo!" Chiun said sharply.

  Remo reluctantly returned the automatic to Amanda, who quickly rammed home a fresh clip.

  "All right, I've got you, buster!" Amanda crowed.

  "Good for you," Remo said sourly. He was looking around for the man they had tailed here. Now where could he be?

  * * *

  Chiun entered the ship of the World Master through a panel, which quickly shut after him. He stood again within the outer chamber, which suddenly filled with a golden light. It was a very peaceful light, Chiun thought.

  When the shadow of the World Master crossed the pebbled-glass screen, Chiun bowed low.

  "My ancestors smile upon this meeting," Chiun said quietly.

  "And mine," returned the World Master.

  "I have many questions," Chiun began.

  "And your persistence has earned you the right to many answers."

  "Many generations ago, one of my ancestors met with one of your people. In the hour of his greatest need, when even life itself was failing, a ring of fire descended from the heavens and a voice was heard."

  "Yes, my voice."

  Chiun's beard trembled. "Yours?"

  "Yes. My life span is greater than you could imagine."

  "Truly, then, I stand in the presence of a great Master. For it was you who made my people what they are today."

  "This is correct. Far, far in your planet's past, my world saw that this Earth held great potential. We came in our ships and with our science, propelled the apes and the monkeys on the upward evolutionary path that led to your humans."

  "Apes? Monkeys?" Chiun said bewilderedly. "You must be referring to some other things. My Korean ancestors do not come from mere apes. I have been taught that our line sprang from the pairing of the great Tangun and a bear."

  "Yes, this is true," the World Master said. "I am Tangun."

  This time Chiun's entire body trembled. "You? Tangun? You have told me that your name is Hopak Kay."

  "My full name is Tangun Hopak Kay."

  "That is a strange name," said Chiun slowly.

  "To human ears perhaps."

  "Tell me of your world," Chiun asked next. "I wish to know more of it."

  "It is a world of beauty and peace, which I know you would find to your liking. There is no hate, no crime, no wars. This is the image in which I intend to remake your world. One devoid of ugliness and evil. Where all men will live in true harmony, and the old will be cherished in their declining years."

  "Yes, that will be good for them," Chiun said absently. "But tell me more. Tell me of the sun source."

  "On my world as well as yours, the sun is a great source of energy. But we have learned to harness that energy more efficiently. All things on my planet are solar-powered."

  Chiun's hazel eyes narrowed to slits. "And your assassins. What of them?"

  "My civilization long ago advanced beyond such practices. The last of our assassins were rehabilitated through brain operations. They were rendered meek and nonviolent in this manner."

  "You have answered all my questions," the Master of Sinanju announced suddenly. "I wish to confer with my son."

  "You may do this," the World Master said, and the panel reopened. "But you must both decide if you wish to join with me in my plan to eradicate war and the evils of assassination after that."

  Chiun left the gently bobbing ship.

  * * *

  When Pavel Zarnitsa saw that everyone in the barn was distracted by the reappearance of the old Oriental from the UFO— or whatever it was— he decided it was time to make his move.

  He dashed inside, waved his pistol for all to see, and shouted at the top of hi
s lungs, "You will all stand perfectly still, please! You, drop your weapon," Pavel told Amanda, who complied hastily. "The rest of you stand aside. I am claiming this spacecraft and its secrets on behalf of my government!"

  "You fool, Pavel Zarnitsa! You will ruin everything!" The voice of the World Master was an amplified screech.

  Pavel almost dropped his weapon in shock.

  "You... you know my name?" Pavel demanded. "Who? How?"

  "You have ruined everything," the voice said, and then a low humming filled the barn.

  "Chiun! There's that sound again," Remo shouted, expecting his skin to heat up.

  But it didn't. Instead, there came a sputtering and hissing from within the floating object, which suddenly fell to the ground. White-hot sparks like the product of a dozen arc-welding torches spilled out of the object. They hurt the eyes and caused everyone to look away in pain. Smoke filled the barn. People ran and collided with one another.

  Remo, shielding his eyes, tried to find Chiun in the confusion. "Little Father," he shouted, "where—"

  "Hush, Remo. I am here."

  Remo felt a familiar hand take his. Chiun, seemingly oblivious to the smoke and sputtering light, guided them both away from the barn, which had started to blaze.

  Remo glanced back once and saw the UFO. It was partially obscured by the smoke, but he clearly saw it slowly melting into a puddle of incandescent slag. There was no sign of the being who called himself the World Master.

  ?Chapter Fourteen

  "Over here," Remo was saying. "I found one."

  "One what?" Chiun called from inside the smoldering barn. The structure had burned almost to the ground before the fire had gone out on its own. Parts of two sides still stood stubbornly.

  "One of the ones who didn't get away," Remo said, looking down at the stunned figure of Pavel Zarnitsa, whose face was black with soot.

  "He— he knew my name," Pavel said dazedly. "How could he know my name?"

  Remo, noticing his captive's accent, demanded, "You sound like a Russian."

  "I am a Polack," Pavel told him, sitting up.

  "Yeah? Well I've been to Russia, and I know what a Russian sounds like. And for my money, buddy, you sound like a Russian to me."

  "Have you ever been to Poland?"

  "Uh... no," Remo admitted.

  "Then I submit you do not know what you are speaking of."

  "Hey, Chiun, come listen to this guy. I think he's a Russian," Remo shouted.

  "I do not have to listen to him," Chiun called back. "I can smell him. He is a Russian."

  "I knew it," Remo said, lifting Pavel to his feet with one hand. "Time to come clean."

  Pavel reached for his pistol, but Remo got to it first. He squeezed hard, and the weapon fell in pieces from his hand.

  "Pretty neat trick, right?" Remo said.

  "No," Pavel said. "Anyone could do it. The weapon is plastic."

  "I'm beginning not to like you," Remo told him.

  "That is too bad for one of us," Pavel admitted unhappily.

  "You got that right," Remo said, dragging the Russian over to where Chiun picked through what was left of the UFO.

  There wasn't much left— surprisingly little for such a large object, in fact. Most of it was shiny slag— a bit like a large bob of lead that had been melted down— only whatever the metal had been, it wasn't lead, and it was still too hot to touch. There were other things, too. Pieces of machinery that had been inside the UFO. Some of these stuck out of the smooth slag like jagged teeth, but even these had withered in the intense heat.

  "If there's any body inside that mess," Remo ventured, "it must have been burned to the size of a dog. A small dog, at that."

  "There is no body," Chiun spat.

  "You think this World Master escaped with the rest of them?" Remo asked.

  "Of course," Chiun returned, folding his hands within his sleeves. "The others could not have escaped on their own. Someone led them. Someone who was not the blonde woman. "

  "Why not her?" asked Remo.

  "Because someone who would let a tiny hair grow on the bridge of her nose could not successfully lead others to safety," Chiun told him.

  "Right," Remo said, looking around. "Well, it's obvious they got away in the van— all except this guy, here."

  "I am not one of those people," Pavel pointed out.

  "I'll bet," Remo said.

  "He is telling the truth," Chiun said. "I do not recognize him as a follower of the blonde woman. Nor do I recognize the body of the white you so foolishly tried to rescue."

  "I didn't know he was dead when I went back in to get him," Remo protested.

  "If you had not gone back into the fire, I would not have had to go back also to protect you, and the others would not have escaped."

  "I'm sorry, Little Father. I know how much you value making contact with this Hopak Kay."

  Chiun spat on the ground violently. "Pah! He is well named. He is a dog and son of dog."

  "What's that?" Remo asked quizzically.

  "Nothing," Chiun muttered, and stormed off.

  Remo turned to the Russian. "And where do you fit into this?"

  Pavel Zarnitsa shrugged his shoulders and his bushy eyebrows at the same time. "I am just a Polack passerby."

  "No, you're not. We followed you here. How are you connected with these flying-saucer chasers?"

  Pavel saw no harm in answering that question, so he did.

  "I was chasing them," he said.

  "Why?"

  "To see to what they were up, just as you were. Where is the harm in that?"

  "We're Americans. You aren't," Remo said simply.

  "That does not mean I have no interest in keeping America from destroying itself."

  "America isn't trying to destroy itself," Remo said.

  "But some Americans are," Pavel countered. "We have both witnessed this. There is a nuclear device that has fallen into their hands, and into the spaceman's hands."

  "How do you know he's a spaceman?"

  Pavel paled slightly in the darkness so that Remo noticed. "He knew my name. He spoke it. How could he know this? No one knows I am here. Not even my superiors." His voice was unsteady. "He can read minds, perhaps?"

  Remo didn't know the answer to that. Chiun believed that the alien was genuine, and connected to Sinanju. Chiun wasn't always right, but Remo had never known him to make a mistake where Sinanju was concerned. Maybe he could read minds.

  "You said something about your superiors," Remo said suddenly. "Who?"

  "I cannot tell you that," Pavel insisted.

  "Yes, you can. You just need incentive. Incentive is an American idea, but I'll be glad to show you how it works."

  Remo took Pavel Zarnitsa by the left earlobe and squeezed. It looked as if Remo were just being playful, but then the Russian's expression warped like heated wax, and his knees buckled. Remo lifted, and the Russian obligingly stood on tiptoe. He did not fight, even though his hands were free.

  Instead, he said, "Oooch! Yow! Oooch!" several times very fast, and finished by admitting, "KGB! I am KGB!"

  "What else?"

  "I am not in your beautiful country to spy on you. I am here to keep an eye on Russians. I like America. Honestly. My favorite American food is tacos."

  Remo squeezed harder.

  "I read about your missiles, so I come here to see what trouble you are having. I learn enough to come here, and to know that what is happening is not good. Not good for Russians or Americans. So you see, we are on the same side, no?"

  Remo let Pavel loose, knowing he had been telling the truth.

  "We are on the same side, definitely no," Remo said. He walked over to the body of Thad Screiber, which lay blackened and singed on the ground. Remo forced his pupils to dilate so he could see the dead man's face in the darkness. Somewhere a bird called twice.

  "Know this guy?" Remo asked Pavel.

  "No. But they said he was a reporter who learned too much. The spaceman zipped him."


  "Did what?"

  "Zipped him," Pavel repeated. "Like in your science fiction movies. There was a beam of blue light. Then he fell over dead. Look. There will be a hole."

  Remo looked. The hole was there. Not large, but it went clean through. The wound was even cauterized. Some kind of death beam, Remo realized.

  "He got zapped, all right," Remo admitted. He found a wallet on the body, which identified him as Thad Screiber, of Northfield, Minnesota. Other than that, Remo could learn nothing about him. There was no indication that he belonged to the Oklahoma City chapter of FOES. Or any other chapter, for that matter. That probably meant he was what he had claimed to be, a reporter.

  * * *

  Remo found Chiun inside the farmhouse. There was a body there, too. A woman's.

  "She was one of them," Chiun said.

  "Yeah, I recognize her," Remo said. "She was the one the blonde shot by accident that first time when she tried to shoot me. Looks like they dragged her back here, and she died."

  "The body is still warm," Chiun said. "Had they sought medical attention, she might have been saved."

  "Anyway, we've got to find what's left of the group before they do more damage. The question is, where do we look?"

  "Look at maps," Pavel suggested.

  "What maps?" Remo demanded.

  "Any maps. They always leave maps around. They are very careless. This is how I know to come here. They left a map in their office. They left names and addresses. Perhaps they do the same here."

  "I was in that office twice and didn't find anything," Remo said.

  Pavel shrugged his shoulders in time with his eyebrows. "You are not properly trained."

  "You are smart for a stupid Russian," Chiun remarked.

  Remo gave them both a look, but he searched the place anyway. The trouble was that he didn't know what he was looking for. He never had been much good at this sort of thing. It was a lot easier when Smith did all the rooting around and just told Remo who the hit was, what he looked like and where to find him.

  As a consequence of his preoccupation, Remo found nothing and said so.

  "There's nothing here."

  "Now I will try," Pavel Zarnitsa offered. He ignored every area Remo had already checked, simply because he had watched Remo go through the house and knew there was nothing of worth to be found in those places. Remo had been looking for hidden materials. Pavel knew that the FOES group did not hide things. They were not that well-trained or that smart. Consequently, they had outsmarted Remo.