Remo snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah, right. Three reasons. It got too cold. They were cold-blooded. So they couldn't stay warm when the ice age came."
"Wrong again."
"Okay," Remo said sourly, "let's hear your theory."
"It's not my theory. But never mind that. It boils down to an asteriod or comet strike. It threw up dust particles that blocked out the sunlight, killing off the plants that the herbivores subsisted on, and when the carnivores that ate the herbivores had no food source, they died out, too."
"Prove it."
"Geologists have discovered a worldwide layer of iridium deposited in the earth's soil about sixty-five million years ago, coinciding with the end of the Cretaceous, when the dinosaurs began dying off. Iridium is rare on earth, and could only have gotten into the soil from an extraterrestrial object striking the planet and dispersing the particles in the atmosphere. There's a 110-mile crater down in the Yucatan Penninsula called Chicxulub, which is the probable impact point. If you don't believe me, you can look it all up."
"Anything else I should know while my childhood memories are burning to the ground?" Remo said glumly.
Nancy smiled. "Let me see. We now think dinosaurs were smarter than previously believed. And faster. Much faster."
"That thing back there obviously excepted."
"Well, we haven't seen it gallop, but it is possible."
Remo snorted. "Give me a break. It's too fat to gallop."
"You are out of date, aren't you? Apatosaurus is much more agile than the old Brontosaur was thought to be. According to tendon scars found on their fossil skeletons, they could rear up on their hind legs to reach food in the tall conifers and ginkgo trees of the Upper Jurassic."
"Crap. Crap and double crap. That thing would have trouble getting out of bed. It's the original 'I've fallen down and I can't get up' dinosaur. That's why there are no more dinosaurs. They were slow and dumb. Mammals beat them at the evolution game."
"Wrong again. Dinosaurs may have been superior to mammals. At their height, they occupied every ecological niche above the size of a chicken. If not for a cosmic accident, they would still be dominant."
"I don't believe it."
"I don't believe you," Nancy shot back. "You're a grown man and you have the belief system of an eleven-year-old boy."
"I do not believe either of you two," Chiun sniffed. "You are both carrying on like two children, and making less sense. And I do not understand half the words you are speaking."
"Well," Remo said defensively, "any way you slice it, it's not a dragon."
"In that," Nancy said, "you and I are in rare agreement."
"It is an African dragon," said Chiun. "There are Chinese dragons, and English dragons, and African dragons. The meat that sheathes its mighty bones is not important. Only the bones themselves."
"And you may not have one," Nancy said quickly. "Get that through your sweet little skull, please."
"Ingrate."
"What about the one whose name I can never remember," Remo said suddenly. "The lizard with the sail on his back."'
"Dimetrodon?"
"That's him. He was a lizard, right?"
"Oh, I wish you hadn't brought Dimetrodon up."
"Why not?"'
"He's not even considered a dinosaur anymore."
"What was he-blackballed for biting?"
"No, he was an early mammal-like reptile."
"Next, you're going to tell me Tyrannosaurus Rex was a kangaroo," Remo said sourly.
"A woman who would deny a dragon its proud heritage is capable of anything," Chiun said in a bitter tone.
Chapter 13
Word travels fast in the bush.
By the time the train rattled toward the shantytowns that lay scattered outside of Port Chuma, the rails were lined with curious Gondwanalanders.
They cheered the locomotive's chugging approach. Cheers of delight, awe, and surprise attended the sighting of the great flatcar and its saurian cargo.
At each point, the Master of Sinanju waved to the admiring crowds. They waved back with enthusiasm.
"It is good to find a land that appreciates us," Chiun told Remo. They were seated in the passenger car now. Nancy sat in a facing seat.
"I think they're excited about the dinosaur," Remo told him.
"Pah!"
"Of course, I could be wrong," Remo admitted.
"We will know when we reach the capital. Where no doubt the king waits to greet me."
"Gondwanaland is ruled by a president, not a king," Nancy pointed out.
"When he is seen in my company," Chiun sniffed, "his subjects will demand that he be crowned, for it is well known in these lands that he who befriends the Master of Sinanju sleeps serene in his castle."
Nancy leaned forward and whispered to Remo. "Have you given thought to committing him?"
"Only if I want to watch men in white coats being dismembered before my eyes."
Nancy, remembering how Chiun had made short work of Colonel Mustard, said, "I assume he knows some kind of exotic martial art."
Remo nodded. "Bruce Lee taught him everything he knows."
Chiun spat noisily out the open window.
"What brought that on?" Nancy asked Remo.
"Ritual purging. I'll explain later."
"Don't bother."
Skip King came back from consulting with his Burger Berets, who had decided to ride on the roof when Chiun came on board at a water stop. He clutched his walkie-talkie, and his face was worried.
"I've been in touch with Port Chuma. Word's already reached the capital."
"Is that good or bad?" Nancy asked.
"Not good. The rabble are demanding that Old Jack stay in Africa. We're going to have to run the train straight to the docks and load him aboard the ship."
"What kind of a ship hauls dinosaurs?" Remo asked.
"A fabulous one. If there's time, we might let you see it."
"Gee, can we?"
"Ingrate," sniffed Chiun.
"What's his problem?" King asked Remo. "We let the two of you hitch a ride with us after your shocks died-even though you screwed things up."
"He likes grateful people," Remo said of Chiun.
"Who doesn't?"
"Especially grateful people who are free with their gold."
"No chance. The board would have paid him to stay away. Do you realize the archival footage we lost?"
"I keep thinking of the blood that wasn't spilled." Nancy said dryly.
"Women don't understand these things."
"King, there are problems taking Old Jack to America," Nancy said.
King grinned. "And I solved every one of them."
"I doubt it. What about the long ocean crossing?"
"It won't be long. Less than twelve hours. He'll probably sleep through the whole thing."
"What kind of a ship can cross the Atlantic in twelve hours?" Remo asked.
"A fabulous one," King said.
"Like the one that brought King Kong to New York?" Remo asked.
King made a disdainful face. "This is the nineties. We don't do boats in the nineties. But we have to be ready to move fast. There are cranes waiting to make the transfer. We'll do the press conference with that as a backdrop."
"Press conference?" Remo asked. "What happened to moving as fast as possible?"
King looked injured. "I said fast, not panicked. This is a great opportunity for the Gondwanaland people. We're going to open up Burger Triumph franchises all over this backwater as a gesture of the corporation's eternal gratitude for the president's help."
"Selling what?" Nancy asked dryly. "White-nosed monkey burgers?"
King started to frame a comeback. His fox face froze, and his beady eyes took on an inward look.
"You okay?" Remo asked suddenly.
"Not if what I think is happening is," Nancy said.
"Huh?"
"B'wana King is wondering if the board will go for the monkey burger idea."
; By the time they clicked into the dock turnaround area, the cranes were swinging into place.
A reviewing stand was set up, covered in purple-and-orange bunting-the Gondwanaland national colors, chosen by throwing darts at a paper rainbow. And attired in a purple-and-orange general's uniform and cocked leopard-skin hat was president of the twentieth century, Oburu Sese Kuku Nebendu wa za Banga.
The train nudged the rotting kapok-wood bumper that marked the terminus of Gondwanaland's only national rail line, and stopped. The engineer blew a long last whistle blast.
And Skip King leaped from his seat and said, "Okay, let's go! Camera crew-do your stuff. Half of you record the transfer. The other half have ceremony duty."
"I'd better check the ship," Nancy said. "It has to be a suitable environment, or I must veto the transfer."
King scowled. "I need you at the ceremony."
"And Old Jack needs me to look out for his welfare."
Skip King drew himself up to his full five-foot-six-inch height. "We're in civilization, now," he said levelly. "Where there is a natural pecking order and men run things. I let you get a little out of bounds back in the bush, but all that's over with now. I won't speak of it if you don't."
"I intend to submit a fully detailed report of your pompous behavior to the board once we're in the States. And if you don't want to have to explain a dead Apatosaurus, I suggest you keep your pecking order-not to mention your pecker-out of my project responsibilities."
King's neck turned red. The color crept up to his face. He bared his teeth in something that was not a smile.
Then Remo said, "Or you can go a few rounds with Chiun and me."
The red went out of Skip King's face so fast someone might have turned on a spigot.
"Okay," he said grudgingly. "Do your check. But I want you up on that podium when the president gives his speech."
"Thank you," Nancy said frostily.
A Captain Relish escorted them down to the docks. He was very polite and kept a respectful distance.
Nancy had expected a large freighter, possibly a container ship or even a small oil tanker.
There were ships tied up along the wharfs. But nothing large enough to float a forty-foot dinosaur.
Sitting just off the beach in the calm tidal water was a gleaming white shape that looked like a crashed 747. It resembled an airliner, but the wings were snubbed off close to the wing roots. There were no engine nacelles. But mounted high in front of the swept-back tail were two large propellers set on a single shaft.
The spine of the craft lay open to the blazing sun in two sections, and lines from great cranes dangled into them.
Remo asked. "What is that?"
"It is obvious," sniffed Chiun. "A crashed plane."
"No," said Captain Relish. "It's an ekranoplane."
They looked at him.
"It's a wingship, a wing-in-ground craft, or ekranoplane as the Russians call it."
"What do the Russians have to do with this?" Remo asked.
"They devised this baby for landing troops on foreign soil. It flies like a hovercraft, but much faster and with a bigger payload. The way it works is the tail props start her moving along the water like a boat, then those two Kuznetsov turbofans mounted on the nose ahead of the wing there blast air under the wingroots, creating lift. She skims along the deck slick as you please. Isn't that great?"
They all stared at him some more. And Remo asked, "Wouldn't it be simpler to fly like a plane?"
"Not because of the ground effect," said Captain Relish. "You see, when a plane flies high, wingtip vortices are created, producing drag. Slows the craft down. Remove the ends of the wings and fly close to the ground, and the problem is solved. When the Soviet Union went belly up, they decided to rent the monster out. This model is called Orlyonok, or Little Eagle."
"Let me see if I have this straight," Remo said. "You cut the wings off so it will fly better?"
"You got it," said Captain Relish, grinning proudly.
Remo turned to Nancy. "You should get together with him."
"Why?"
"Because you two obviously have a lot in common. What he said makes about as much sense as feathers on a Triceratops."
Nancy made her voice firm. "I am not-repeat not-authorizing that we fly Old Jack to America," she told Captain Relish. "And that's final."
"Dr. Derringer, you don't understand-"
"I understand plenty. You tell that jerk King that's my decision. And it's final."
"Uh-oh. Too late."
Nancy looked where Remo was pointing.
Two cranes were at work, carefully hoisting the dinosaur off the flatcar. The body lifted quivering, the head and tail hanging limp as if dead. The forked tongue protruded.
"Those idiots! They haven't secured the head and tail."
"I guess they're in a rush," said Captain Relish. "I hear the natives are restless."
Working in unison, the crane bore the great Halloween bulk closer and closer.
Nancy turned to Remo and Chiun.
"I need your help."
"Name it," said Remo.
"Yes," added Chiun. "Name it and a price will be determined later."
Remo winked as if to say, "Don't worry about it."
"Deal. I need you two to guide the head down safely. I know you can do amazing things, can you handle that?"
"Sure," said Remo.
"For a price to be determined later," Chiun said blandly.
"We'll worry about that then," said Nancy.
Captain Relish escorted them to an inflatable pontoon bridge that carried them over the shallow water to an open passenger door in the side of the anchored craft.
"The cargo bay is aft," he said, leading them through an interior that very much resembled a truncated passenger jet. A door in the rear gave into the cargo area. It lay open to the dazzling African sun.
Nancy gave the area a quick once-over. She turned to Captain Relish. "I think you'd better leave. Captain. That's ten tons of reptile meat about to come down in a relatively confined space."
The captain ducked out.
The cranes' operators brought the beast over to the waiting cargo hold of the ekranoplane. They were good. They got it into exact position without unnecessary jockeying. It blocked the sun.
Slowly, the cables began paying out.
"Okay," Nancy said nervously, as the creature's shadow grew. "We shouldn't have to worry about the tail. But if the head folds under the body, it could be crushed. At the very least, the windpipe could be constricted."
"Just grab the head and keep it from the body, right?" asked Remo.
"Right. You can do that?"
"Sure."
Nancy withdrew to a safe distance, where she made white-knuckled fists on and off during the remaining part of the fifteen-minute operation.
She saw it all, and questioned none of it.
The whiplike tip of the tail touched first and began coiling like a serpent dropping into a box. It was the other end she was worried about.
The undersized head, mouth slightly open and eyes closed, inched closer and closer to the stainless steel of the bulkhead floor.
Remo and Chiun took up positions under it. Small as it was in comparison to the thick neck, the head dwarfed them both. Like construction workers guiding a girder into position, they took hold of the snout and chin and with a nod to each other, walked it away as the body continued down.
The head was heavy enough, Nancy knew. But the greater weight lay in the tremendous pumpkin-striped neck.
Somehow, the pair knew exactly what to do. They moved left when the neck began to kink right and vice versa. They seemed to have an instinct for the way the reptile's weight was redistributing itself. It was as if, Nancy thought, they used the creature's own inert muscles against itself. That, more than their eerily effortless strength, impressed her most.
When the great padded feet touched the floor, they had the neck almost fully elongated. This was the crucial part.
Then it was over. Suddenly, effortlessly. The legs folded up on either side of the great bulk of the body and the wrinkled underside touched the floor. The ship hardly jarred.
And the neck, fully elongated now, lay flat, with the head resting on its chin.
Nancy came up and looked the beast over without saying a word.
The Master of Sinanju watched her and said to his pupil, "She is not very effusive in her gratitude."
"Give her a minute," Remo said. "She has to check everything out. Like you, when we fly."
"I am not flying in this maimed air vehicle. It has no wings."
"I don't get it, either."
Nancy let out a yelp of annoyance.
They ran to meet her.
"Damn Damn Damn Damn!" she was saying.
"What?" asked Remo.
"I forgot to sex the beast."
"Oh," said Remo.
Chiun took Remo aside and whispered, "What manner of female wishes to mate with a dragon?"
"She doesn't mean it that way."
"What way does she mean it?"
"She's trying to figure out what sex it is."
"It is a female," Chiun called.
Nancy looked up. "How can you tell?"
"Male dragons have larger heads. Females but tiny ones, because they have smaller brains. Just as with human females."
"Thank you for that illuminating bit of information," Nancy said thinly.
Chiun wrinkled up his tiny nose. "She does not sound grateful."
"Give her time," said Remo.
"I am willing to be patient as long as I receive my dragon bone," Chiun allowed.
"Nobody said anything about her being that grateful."
"A toe bone then. Until the beast dies a proper death. Then I may claim the leg bone of my choice."
"Do they even have toes?" Remo asked.
"True dragons do."
"But this is art African dragon. You never know about them. Maybe you should check."
His whole face wrinkling now, the Master of Sinanju floated up to the animal's rear right leg. He bent to examine tire fleshy pad. Nancy noticed this and asked, "Looking for thorns, by chance?"
"I am seeking a toe."
"Why?"
"To see if this monstrosity has one."
"Well, it does. Several of them. Happy now?"
The Master of Sinanju straightened. He looked into Nancy's faintly humorous eyes.
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