The news was wired to Washington immediately, and just as immediately, the great debate on the wrongness of invading Sornica now disappeared. It was apparent these three columns had saved the nation.
And the missiles were there, right in the ground where even a television reporter couldn't miss them. Only the columnists held out.
"Doesn't matter," said one woman who had managed to blame Arab terrorism on the President. "Do what we did in Kampuchea where the Khmer Rouge were forcing children to murder other children. If you think this is bad, Cambodia was worse. It was like the Nazi holocaust. Millions rounded up, worked to death, slaughtered. Entire cities emptied of people."
"I remember, I welcomed the Khmer Rouge," said the columnist for the New York newspaper.
"Blame the Americans," said the columnist for the Washington newspaper.
"How can we do that? These are Russian missiles aimed at our population centers."
"When the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge came out, I blamed America because America had been bombing Cambodia. Therefore, American bombs made those people mad."
"But lots of people have been bombed without ending up slaughtering each other. Look at the British in World War II. They were bombed much worse than the Cambodians. It didn't make them savage animals."
"Don't bring in facts. Just say it. We'll be fine. When I'm really cooking I say I'm facing harsh truths. Goes over beautifully in Boston with all those colleges there. The harsher the truth, the better."
"So the harsh truth is, we're responsible for these missiles, and they are there because we are invading."
"That's facing the truth," said the Washington columnist who had faced the harshest of truths in Iran before the Ayatollah Khomeini, Cambodia before the Khmer Rouge. and Vietnam before people were willing to risk their lives by the thousands in flimsy boats to escape their liberation. In Washington, two things became blatantly apparent. One, America had been fortunate to detect the missiles, and two, no one could quite figure out the command structure that had ordered it, other than that it had something to do with that strange situation in Fort Pickens, Arkansas.
Alone, the President reached out for Harold Smith, the last, best, desperate hope of America. He had been looking into that thing.
It was good that the missiles were discovered and removed. But who knew what would happen next time? Who knew where this force would be taken? And if it could invade Sornica without authorization, what would stop it from invading Washington? Every man the President had sent down to the field to find out what was happening kept coming back with stories of a great commander. And invariably that great commander was different for each person.
Eerily, this force seemed to have better access to the American government than the President himself. It was the sort of access held by only CURE itself, and Smith, the lone man America trusted with this.
If anything happened to Smith, these computer networks were to self-destruct. And the President knew this would be in effect because when he dialed that one number that so many presidents had come to rely on, it would, for the first time in two decades, give a simple little response so many numbers got, that the number was out of service.
It would work automatically like so many disconnects did, as CURE had worked so successfully by relying on people doing things automatically without thinking of why or how they did them. And it would be over.
Or there would be Harold Smith on the line, putting this "salvation network," as the President had come to think of it, into action tracking down the new force.
The President dialed and he got the one response he never thought he would get. A busy signal.
CURE was on line and working, but he couldn't get through to it.
Remo and Anna Chutesov saw the explosion in the distance. They had arrived at the Sornica airport while it was still under control of the Sornican forces.
"The first thing we have to do is find out where Rabinowitz is so that we can stay away from him. Then if you see the most important person in your life, turn away and run. I will do the same. Because then it will mean we have seen Rabinowitz. "
"I got another problem."
"What's that?"
"The most important person in my life really is here. He was my teacher and the only real father I ever knew."
"That's a problem, because what we want to do, must do, is find out more about Rabinowitz, and the people who can tell us are your friends from that secret organization you belong to."
"I can't believe I told a Russian about that," said Remo.
"You didn't have any choice. You can't rescue them without me and I can't help you without knowing who they are. So you made a correct decision."
"I dunno," said Remo.
"We know now that Rabinowitz is more dangerous than ever on one hand because of his access to those special sources of information and on the other because a Master of Sinanju serves him. You did the only thing that could possibly help save them. And why?"
"The last answer I got on a major question was yes. All right, yes. My answer to why is yes."
"I don't understand you, Remo, and since my specialty is not pathological mental disorders, I will not attempt to try. The reason you have helped us is that we must have as much information, especially precise information on Rabinowitz, as possible. Why?"
"No," said Remo.
Anna Chutesov had sighed. In breathing she filled out her blouse delightfully, nothing overbearing in her figure, just pure sexiness in a blouse now made more sexy by her perspiration in the Sornica sun.
"We must know everything about Vassily Rabinowitz because the first time we come within eyesight of him we are going to have to know precisely how to kill him."
"That's what I said, yes," said Remo.
Anna had been impressed by the way Remo smoothly guided them through the lines. He knew where people were before she saw them. He knew their moves without thinking. A few times he explained that people with weapons had to move certain ways, it was in their nature. They were small things, but a house of assassins working through millennia picked them up along with other techniques and compiled them, each new Master building on what the other knew. Sinanju was the name of the town from which the assassins came, although Remo was Caucasian. Chiun, his trainer, knew the same sexual techniques as Remo.
"He must have taught you everything but how to breathe."
"Breathing's the most important thing he taught me," Remo said. By the time they heard the major explosion far off, Anna Chutesov knew Remo loved this Chiun, and he kept repeating that they were very different. Although some people who liked to bust chops thought otherwise, according to Remo.
"What other people?"
"You wouldn't understand. But he was the one who gave me the answer 'yes.' "
"What was it 'yes' to?"
"The most important question I could ask."
"Which was?"
"I don't know. I didn't ask it. I couldn't figure out the question. So I got an answer without a question."
"Is Sinanju like Zen Buddhism?" asked Anna.
"No," said Remo. "It's Sinanju."
He guided her to lie down in a soft, leafy bank. In a short while a patrol came by, Indian faces in Soviet uniforms.
A young girl with a Kalishnikov stared directly at Anna but kept walking. She was no more than fifteen feet away. "Why didn't she see us?"
"People don't see things they're not looking for. Patrols look for movement. They don't see. They're looking for mines under their feet. Snipers somewhere. People don't see what they're not prepared to see."
"And what do you see?"
"What's there."
"Is it hard?"
"I don't know of anyone outside of Sinanju who sees what's there. Some think we're some kind of super thing, but that's not so," said Remo. "It's just that nobody else uses their bodies properly. Or minds, to be more precise. Most of the body, like the brain, is unused."
It was startling, but true. Anna Chutesov knew tha
t less than eight percent of the human brain was ever used. These people from Sinanju apparently used much, much more.
This Sinanju, not Rabinowitz, was a weapon she could use. Safer than a nuclear warhead, and absolutely precise. If they got out of this alive, she was going to get this man for Russia. And if he happened to stay around for her, well, she could live with that too, she thought, as a most contented smile crossed her face.
Then came the explosion and the rush of American troops. Remo commandeered a jeep and driver. It was amazing how he could touch one nerve and make a person do what he wanted. Including Anna, Anna thought with another broad grin.
"Remo, I want to really get you with your clothes off." she said.
"I got work," said Remo.
"What you need, Remo, is a good mind-bending screw." she said.
And from the side of the road came a wail like a siren. But no siren ever made that noise. An angry-faced Oriental in a black robe was staring at Remo and Anna, pointing at their jeep. Remo made the driver stop.
"Slut. Don't you dare talk like that to Remo. Remo. what are you doing with that white girl? Come, we must pay our respects to the Great Wang."
"I think that's Chiun," said Remo. "Do you see an Oriental?"
"With a wisp of a beard?"
"Yes," said Remo.
"Yes, I see him," said Anna.
"That's Chiun. Don't talk dirty in front of him. He doesn't like it."
"Killing is noble, sex is wrong?"
"You got it," said Remo.
"Who is she? How can I bring you to the Great Wang when you have a disgrace of a white girl with you?" Chiun asked.
"I'm white," said Remo.
"Great Wang doesn't have to know that. He could think a grandparent was Korean."
"He knows. He knows I'm white. He liked the idea."
"Liar," said Chiun.
"Who's the Great Wang?" asked Anna.
"Who is this slut with the mouth of a sailor?" asked Chiun.
"Great Wang is the one who answered the question without waiting for the question," said Remo.
"Is he from Sinanju?" asked Anna.
"The most," said Remo.
"Answer her before me. Has that wanton so crazed your mind with lust that you do not answer me before her?"
"Her name is Anna Chutesov. She is here to help."
"Have you had relations?" asked Chiun.
"I don't think so," said Anna. "Tell me about this Great Wang you so admire. Is he the one who gives you orders now?"
"The Great Wang does not have to give orders. A Master of Sinanju follows his wishes before the orders are given. "
Anna saw the strange floating movement of Chiun and it reminded her of something. That was how Remo moved through the jungles.
"Does the Great Wang move like you and Remo?" asked Anna, and suddenly Chiun was no longer speaking English but conversing in Korean.
Remo answered in the same language. "What is he saying?" asked Anna.
"He's saying why did you ask that question in particular?"
"So he knows something is wrong. He is aware of that."
"Little father," said Remo. "How much is wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong," said Chiun. "Everything is better than it has ever been. Even Emperor Smith thinks so." That name, too, sounded familiar to Anna Chutesov. But she was about to see something coming down the road that would tell her the problem was no longer in Sornica, but in Russia itself. And she had to get Remo out of here, otherwise there might not be much of a world to save, even for a Master of Sinanju.
Chapter 14
Anna saw it coming down the road.
"Oh, no," said Anna. "Those idiots."
Large trucks trundled slowly along the dirt and pitted Sornica's Route 1. On their beds were fat tubes like giant sewer pipes. In the front were cones. In back were afterburners. On the side were big red stars with Russian lettering, and even American television couldn't miss it.
They were medium-range Russian nuclear missiles, far more accurate this close to America. Far more deadly. And there was absolutely no military reason for it.
The advantage was negligible because with the number of nuclear warheads in stock, no one needed accuracy. Did they think someone would fire three nuclear missiles, wipe out three cities, and then sit down to talk?
But worse, far worse, the Americans would make a great display of this. The Russian generals would be humiliated by such a great loss; after all, this was not just a client state that had fallen, but Russian soldiers. Then, just like after the Cuban missile crisis, they would launch a new round of face-saving experiments. The last one had bankrupted the weak Russian economy, and the next might well mean war. There was no more money for a new generation of weapons. That was why Russia was pushing so hard lately for a freeze. Which was also why America was pushing for new weapons.
Of course there was no advantage. But men thought so.
In this case there was less advantage than in urinating up a wall to see who could go higher. That was a useless boys' contest. This one was suicide.
"She's a Russian agent of sorts," said Remo. "Looks like we got your missiles."
"You have. They have. We have," said Anna, throwing up her hands. "Men. What are you going to do with them? They have no more purpose in your hands than they did in ours. Where is Rabinowitz?"
"Your heart wishes him no good. You may not come near," said Chiun.
And to Remo, in Korean he said:
"Rabinowitz is a friend of the Great Wang. If this slut gets close to Rabinowitz, kill her."
"Sure, sure, little father. Will do."
"You didn't say it like you meant it."
"Tell me more about Wang. Could you point him out to me?"
"Haven't you seen him yourself?"
"I did. He gave me the answer."
"So you know now," said Chiun, his eyes sparkling, his face crinkling into a smile.
"Yeah. I know the answer is yes."
"That was my answer, too," said Chiun. "The first time I saw him before Fort Pickens, and when I saw him again."
"What was your question?"
"It is very personal. I don't wish to say," said Chiun. "What was yours?"
"Nothing much," said Remo.
Anna, hearing the two babble in Korean, asked what they were talking about.
"Nothing," they both said in unison.
"We should find this wonderful Mr. Rabinowitz," said Anna. "But look, Mr. Chiun. You obviously feel I am a sort of danger to him."
"How can you be a danger? Both I and the Great Wang protect him."
"Then let's find him. And I will make you this promise. We won't come within five hundred yards of him. We just want to ask a few questions. And perhaps you can take those questions to him, and bring back the answers."
"I'm not a messenger," said Chiun. "Remo can ask the questions of him."
"No," said Anna. "Definitely not. Tell Mr. Rabinowitz we have a message for him from his mother in Dulsk. Tell him I bring peace from the Soviet Union. Tell him he has won, and that we respect his strength and his power, and now we wish to sign a treaty with him personally. To assure him of his safety. Russia will assure him of his safety."
"I assure him of his safety. Who are you to assure him of his safety? You can't keep your hands off innocent young men."
Remo looked around. He hadn't seen Anna touch anyone else. She had her hand on his arm. Chiun stared at it with hostility. Remo knew that, for Chiun, this was too much affection for a woman to show in public.
A simple bow from ten feet away was considered proper by Chiun. Touching was obscene. America had once been described in his histories as a land so degenerate that people kissed strangers to say hello. Italy was beyond the pale. Saudi Arabia was all right, except they were a little lax in enforcement.
They only cut off hands. Why cut off hands, reasoned Chiun, when it was the mind, not the hand, that committed the crime? Chiun had hands and never once had they committed a crime on
their own. Nor, did he think, did anyone else's.
And so Chiun not only saw this blond woman with the beautiful, high cheekbones and devastating smile touching Remo, but Remo allowing it. Standing there, allowing, as though nothing was wrong. Degenerate whiteness coming through again, and just before he was to meet the Great Wang again.
"You are not going to walk like that toward the Great Wang," said Chiun.
"Tell me," said Remo, keeping Anna's hand just where it had been placed, "did you ever learn, little father, how to be in two places at once?"
Chiun did not answer, but stared at the hands. Finally he said:
"You're keeping that obscene slut's touch on you just to bother me."
Anna removed her hand.
"Let's hope he doesn't get pregnant by this," she said, with a sharp smile.
"I never learned to be in two places at once. One place at a time is enough," said Chiun. "More than enough. In fact, essentially wonderful."
"I wonder why the Great Wang wouldn't have taught us that trick, because while he was with you, he was with me also. "
"You didn't see the Great Wang, then," said Chiun. "How disappointing."
"He has a belly like the cold center of the universe, like all that is not of this earth. Perhaps you might want to test this Great Wang."
"He's not 'this' Great Wang. He's the Great Wang," said Chiun.
"Right," said Remo. But he knew Chiun was bothered. Chiun agreed to take them near Wang's friend Rabinowitz if the white slut could control herself.
"You're such a man, Chiun," said Anna. "You're the quintessential man, Chiun."
"Thank you," said Chiun.
"I thought you'd respond like that," said Anna.
Near the headquarters, several Russian prisoners were being herded into trucks. They looked frightened, and Anna assured them they would not be shot. She was angry that any fool would send them in here so close to America for no purpose whatsoever.
Well, she could make them have a purpose. She could quiet down this man. She might just be able to stop him from going further.
It was a tremendous defeat to Russia that he had won. "Remo, I've changed my mind," said Anna.
"Just like a woman," said Chiun. "Changing your mind. Watch out for this one, Remo. She's no good."
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