Larry had felt a trembling in the ground, and suddenly, like the color filling the screen in The Wizard of Oz, the park came to life. Larry rushed in like a child.
He had spent the first evening overseeing adjustments. He had only to ask the Ferris wheel to change and it became the Squirrel Girl ride, complete with colorful images of Squirrel Girl on each hub.
When the last attraction, the sprawling Moon Walk, had been modified, Larry was satisfied.
"We'll make millions," he cried. "What should I charge for admission?"
"Nothing," said the voice of Mr. Gordons, which this time came from the Moon Walk entrance, which Gordons had designed so that no one could leave the park without enjoying it.
"Nothing? How will I make money?"
"You will make money on the concessions," said Mr. Gordons. "But it is important that large numbers of people pass through Larryland."
"Larryland? I was going to call it Lepperland."
"Lepperland has an unfortunate connotation," pointed out Mr. Gordons, whose voice now crackled from the Buster Bear statue as Larry made his rounds. Larry quickly got used to the voice coming from different places. He had worked in a fantasy world so long that nothing surprised him. Not even the fact that the entire park was a thinking android.
"I had my heart set on Lepperland," he complained. "Names are important. I learned this in my last occupation. "
"What was that?" Larry asked, curious. "I was a car wash."
"You mean, you worked in a car wash."
"No," said Mr. Cordons. "I was the car wash."
"Oh."
And because Mr. Gordons had provided Larry Lepper with his dream, Larry had not complained or objected. He had rushed out to place ads in the newspapers so that when the first rush of families came, he was all set to greet them in his Buster Bear suit.
That had been just one hectic day before. Now Larry was taking a break from being Buster Bear and enjoying the view from his private tower.
"Ah, what could possibly go wrong now?" Larry said aloud.
The voice of Mr. Gordons came from the air-conditioning vent. "There is trouble in Larryland, Larry Lepper," it said.
"What trouble?" Larry asked, bringing his face close to the vent.
"Several men are coming in through the entrance, carrying automatic weapons."
Larry looked down. Lines of cars stretched out from the parking lot like beetles on a conveyor belt. Cars honked impatiently. And across the tops of a string of vehicles stomped several men in gaudy tourist clothes.
They pushed their way through the crowd. They carried beach towels and Larry didn't have to guess as to what the towels concealed. He knew from the two-handed way the towels were carried, one hand under and the other on top, holding the towels in place.
"What do I do?" demanded Larry Lepper.
"Find out what they want. It is imperative that there be no disruption in the functioning of this theme park."
"My thinking exactly," said Larry Lepper resolutely. Larry Lepper donned his oversize Buster Bear head and waddled down the winding steps, his heart in his mouth. He wondered if the Mafia had come to demand a piece of the Larryland action.
Anna Chutesov was surrounded.
She stood in a sea of children, trying to isolate the radio transmission. It was important that she stay in one place long enough to get one leg of the signal. The children milled around her and it only made her acutely aware of the horror that was masked under the harlequin name of Larryland. How many of them, she wondered, would never develop into puberty because of this innocent day in the sun?
When a little girl skipped by, bumping Anna's head with a Buster Bear balloon, Anna turned on her with the fury born of frustration.
"Go away!" she hissed. "Can you not see that I am doing something important?"
The little girl stopped, looked stunned, and rushed off crying, "Mommy, Mommy."
Anna Chutesov returned to her radio locator, biting her lip. Every moment she was delayed finding the Sword of Damocles, more parents, more children, would be exposed to its microwaves. Somewhere, Anna knew, the satellite was doing its insidious work. But where? Which of these rides was stripping those who walked through it of the ability to bear children?
Anna got her first fix, and locking it into the optical viewer, started for the other end of the park.
She didn't get there. She dropped the locator, breaking it. She was looking at the object of her search.
It was a great palace of crystal and chrome. The neon sign in front said MOON WALK. It was the largest building in the park and set near the back. It had the biggest lines, which snaked around a series of posts and lines designed to keep the crowds in place. It was also the only exit from Larryland.
"How diabolical," Anna Chutesov said, hush-voiced. "In order for the people to leave, they must go through the Moon Walk. It is there that I will find what I seek."
Anna found Rshat Kirlov at an ice-cream stand trying to balance a double-scooped pistachio-nut cone. "Fool," she said, knocking the cone from his hand.
"I was hungry," Colonel Rshat Kirlov whined.
"Never mind. I think I have found the object of my search."
"I will have my men assemble for the assault."
"Let us pray such a moronic measure will be unnecessary," Anna said. "Deploy your men around the attraction called the Moon Walk. Do not-repeat, do not-let them enter. I am going inside. Alone. If I do not return at the end of twenty minutes, you will send in your two best men. Tell them they are to look for what appears to be a satellite. They are not to be fooled by appearances of frivolity. If they see such an object, they are to destroy it at all costs. If the first pair do not return, send in the next, and so on until success."
"I understand."
"No, you do not. You are taking orders and you are obeying them. Understanding is not your function."
"What happens, Comrade Chutesov, if none of my men return from this place?"
"You will go to the Soviet consulate in the city of Los Angeles. It is the large city to the north. Tell them that the Sword is inside that building."
"The sword?"
"The Sword," repeated Anna Chutesov. "Now, instruct your men. The twenty minutes begin when you see me walk through the entrance to the Moon Walk attraction. "
Anna Chutesov did not get into the long line leading to the Moon Walk. There was no time. Every delay would sterilize that many more people walking through the building. She struggled through the crowd and hopped a low concrete obstruction until she was near the head of the line. She stepped ahead of the first in line, a family of four. She wanted to warn them, but who would believe her?
Anna did not argue with the teenage boy who controlled the doors. She smiled glassily, and while the boy sputtered something about not breaking in line, Anna led him around to the side wall and squeezed his neck until he lay dead. She wished she did not have to kill him, but it was his life against that of thousands of unborn generations. Without an operator, no one could enter the Moon Walk until Anna Chutesov had neutralized its evil function.
"I smell Russians," said the Master of Sinanju.
Remo Williams paused. They had just made their way past the Buster Bear entrance gate. The crowds seemed too packed to allow passage, but Chiun told Remo to follow his lead.
The crowd probably never understood why they parted before the tiny Oriental in the white brocade kimono. Some felt an itch and moved aside to scratch it. Others felt pressure against their backs, but when they looked back, they saw nothing.
Thus it had gone until Remo had discovered himself deep within the gaiety of Larryland.
He sniffed the air. "Yeah. I smell them too," he said. Long ago, the Master of Sinanju had taught him that all people gave off distinctive odors, a mixture of body chemistry and diet. Although all these personal odors were unique, they could be categorized according to dietary influences. There was the distinctive curry-spice aroma of the East Indian, the hamburger smell of the Am
erican, and so on. Russians usually smelled of black bread and potato soup.
"There," said Chiun, pointing.
Remo saw two men in Hawaiian shirts standing about uncomfortably, towels held at hip level.
"Think they have guns?" Remo asked.
"They will need them. They reek of suspicion."
"Anna must have beat us to the punch, Little Father."
"Perhaps," said the Master of Sinanju distantly. He was not watching the Russians. He was scanning the park, looking for the most probable hiding place of the Sword of Damocles. He dismissed the tallest structure-a large tower-because he sensed no energy emanating from it. The Squirrel Girl wheel was too open. There was no place amid its skeletal works to conceal a spherical object. That left the walk-in attractions.
"I don't see Anna, but I count ten Russians, all armed, hanging around the Moon Walk," Remo said. "What do you suppose that means?"
The Master of Sinanju turned his attention on the Moon Walk. The attraction had the longest line, meaning that it was the most popular. It was also surrounded, as Remo had pointed out, by Russian agents.
Chiun faced Remo and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me, Remo, for this is important," he said.
"I'm listening," said Remo, watching the Russians out of the corner of his eye.
"Then listen with your eyes too," snapped Chiun, clapping his hands so sharply that nearby pigeons took wing.
"Okay, okay."
"I have lost something important to me," Chiun scolded. "I will not lose you too."
"I can handle whatever comes," Remo said.
"Nor will I countenance your losing your seed. Someday you will have need of it, when the time comes to train the next Master after you. Look around you, Remo. Look at these people. Look at the husbands and wives and the precious little children."
Remo looked. Everywhere, he saw joy. A father picked up a small boy so he could better see a greeter dressed as Magic Mouse juggling white balls. Twin brothers took turns eating from the same cotton-candy cone, their mouths pink and sticky. It made Remo wish he was a child all over again.
"What do you see?" asked Chiun.
"I see a lot of people having fun. Makes me wish I was one of them."
"I see children who will never know the joy of a new sibling coming into their lives," intoned the Master of Sinanju. "I see parents who have created life for the final time and do not realize it. I see women who will never enjoy the miracle and wonder of birth. I see fathers who will never again behold their likeness in a baby's face. I see a desert of suffering. Meditate upon that, Remo, my son, and tell me again what you see about you."
Remo looked again.
"I see horror," he said.
"Good, for now you see true. Some of these people may be saved from such a destiny, but you must obey my every command, for there is little time."
"Say the word, Little Father," Remo said resolutely. "I'll do whatever you ask."
The Master of Sinanju nodded. "The Russians look nervous," he said. "They have many guns and there are many innocents about. You will attend to them. Use all your skill, for no bullets must fly."
"They've seen their last sunset. What about you?"
"I will search for the instrument of infertility, and Gordons. Do not follow me, for you must not risk your seed too. That is the most important part."
"I can't let you go up against Gordons alone," Remo protested.
"And I cannot let you become an empty vessel," Chiun retorted. "If you will not do this for me, or for Sinanju, then think of your betrothed, who awaits your return."
"Mah-Li," said Remo.
"Yes, Mah-Li may wish to bear your children, although why is beyond me. Keep Mah-Li in mind, lest you do something foolish. Now attend to the Russians while I search these buildings, beginning with this one. Whatever you do, whatever happens, do not follow me into any of them until I have destroyed the round sword of the Russians."
"Gotcha, Little Father," Remo promised.
And the Master of Sinanju melted into the crowd. Remo tried to follow him with his eyes, but it was impossible to spot his tiny figure moving through the masses of tall American tourists.
Colonel Rshat Kirlov understood his orders. He was to await the return of Anna Chutesov or the passing of twenty minutes. In the meantime, he was to do nothing. While he waited, he wondered why as bold a stroke as the infiltration of America by a crack KGB team would lead to a place such as Larryland. He understood that Larryland was a place like the famous Disneyland, about which he had read. Everyone knew about Disneyland, even in Soviet Russia.
Vaguely he wondered if Anna Chutesov's mission was to steal American theme-park technology. Perhaps there would soon be such places all over Mother Russia. He wondered if they would be called something like Leninland.
A seven-foot polyester bear interrupted his thoughts. "Excuse me," said the bear. "But I must ask you to check your guns at the gate. I'm sure they're not real, but even water pistols are not permitted here. We have a strict no-weapons policy. It's for everybody's safety, naturally."
"Go away," said Rshat Kirlov. "I know nothing of what you are speaking to me about."
"Look, I don't want to have to call the police."
"And I do not want you to call the police," said Colonel Rshat Kirlov, pressing the concealed muzzle of his Uzi machine pistol into the bear's fat paunch.
When Remo Williams gave up looking for the Master of Sinanju, he saw that three of the Russians had surrounded one of the official Larryland greeters, someone in a big bear suit. The trio pressed colorful beach towels against the bear suit, and were forcing the man inside to walk behind the big Moon Walk pavilion.
"Excuse me," Remo said, barging in on them. "But that's a national treasure you're assaulting."
"National-?" began Colonel Rshat Kirlov.
"Absolutely," said Remo. "Don't you recognize Yogi Bear when you see him?"
"Buster," corrected Larry Lepper, inside the suit. "Buster Bear."
"Shut up," said Remo. "Now, as I was saying, this man is a big American media star, and a close personal friend of Smokey the Bear. Why don't you leave him alone?"
"What do you not mind your own business?"
"Okay," said Remo airily. "I asked nice. Didn't you people hear me ask nice?"
"Yes," said Larry Lepper nervously. "I did."
Remo decided that the Russians weren't the problem. Their weapons were. He took the weapons of the two nearest men away from them with a one-handed sweep. The third man, the one who had been speaking and the apparent leader, saw Remo hold up two Uzis in one hand and the covering towels in the other. He hesitated.
The hesitation was momentary. Remo's kick was lightning.
Colonel Rshat Kirlov felt his Uzi leap into the air. Remo caught it coming down. The towel fluttered after it, and Remo got it too.
"Now, watch carefully," Remo said. The Russians watched. So did Lepper, peering through the eyeholes concealed in Buster Bear's smiling mouth.
Remo tucked one of the Uzis under an arm and, with a steel-hard forefinger, proceeded to stuff a beach towel down the weapon's blunt muzzle like a magician loading colored scarves into a hollow wand. He tossed the weapon back at its owner and performed the same operation on the other two machine pistols before returning them.
"Ta-dah," he sang. "Nothing up my sleeves, either."
"What means 'ta-dah'?" asked Colonel Rshat Kirlov, looking at the weapon in his hand. He stared down the muzzle. It was dark. There was obviously no beach towel inside, although to the naked eye it had looked as though the crazy American had stuffed the thick towel into the gun. Colonel Kirlov knew that could not be. The muzzle of an Uzi would barely accommodate a pencil, never mind a very thick towel.
"Are your weapons clear?" he asked the other men. They nodded.
"Then use them."
Remo stood with his arms folded while three trigger fingers depressed three triggers and three hands shattered into raw bone and blood. The men did not
have time to scream. They never realized that their guns had backfired and exploded. Remo danced up to each of them and took them out with stiff-fingered strokes to their frontal lobes.
"What happened?" asked Larry Lepper dully. The three men lay on the ground.
"They died," Remo said unconcernedly. He was looking for more Russians. He saw two more, standing like Hawaiian versions of Mafia bodyguards before the Moon Walk pavilion. "Excuse me while I go kill some more."
"Nice meeting you," said Larry Lepper, grateful that he would not have to deal with the armed men.
"Give Smokey my best," Remo called back.
The sound of the exploding Uzis had gone unnoticed in the carnival sounds of Larryland, so the next pair of Russians had no idea that there had been trouble. They stood at attention, oblivious of the crowds swirling around them.
Remo slipped up from behind and took an elbow in each hand. The men felt a sudden irresistible urge to drop their weapons. They did.
Remo scooped up the Uzis and removed the clips. "There," he said. "Now that they're empty, I've got some questions for the two of you." He pointed the weapons at them.
"Excuse me," said one of the Russians. "But you are mistaken."
"I am?" asked Remo. He frowned. "Yes. Those weapons are not empty."
"Nonsense," Remo said. "You saw me take out the clips."
"There is always a round in the chamber. Be so good as to remove those before you wave them like that."
"I think you're thinking of some other weapon," Remo said.
"I am sure I am correct," the Russian said with studied politeness. "I am a soldier."
"Really?" said Remo. And because he resented the presence of Soviet soldiers in an American theme park, he did something he had not done since learning Sinanju. He pressed the trigger.
The complaining Russian folded like a broken board. "What do you know?" Remo said. "He was right, after all. I guess that means there's another round in this gun too." He pointed it at the second Russian's face.
"What do you wish to know?" the Russian asked unhappily.
"For starters, I'd like to know where Anna Chutesov is."
The Russian jerked a thumb at the Moon Walk pavilion, which glittered directly behind him.
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