Blue Smoke and Mirrors td-78

by Warren Murphy

  Then Remo noticed a rheostat on the thing's lower stomach. About where a belt buckle would be. Remo blinked. It was attached to a belt after all. A white one. For some reason, the belt's edges were indistinct, just like the outlines of the creature. It all blended in.

  "Chiun, look at him closer. Do you have trouble with your eyes?"

  "My eyes are perfect," Chiun snapped. But when he stared at the creature, he had to look away. He batted his hazel eyes and looked again.

  "This creature is attempting to trick my eyes," Chiun said, kicking at it again.

  "Hmmmm," Remo said. He put his hand over the thing's face. The. head retreated a little, but only a little. Remo passed his hands up and down before the blister, testing it. The blank face moved up and down, following Remo's gestures.

  "I think it can see us."

  "Of course," Chiun said testily. "It is not blind. How could it know to hide within a tree if it could not see?"

  "But it doesn't have any face-that I can see," Remo added. He looked at the head more closely.

  "Do not bother me with trivial details," Chiun spat. He puffed out his cheeks and blew gusty breaths at the creature, as if trying to blow out a candle. His mighty

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  efforts made his face redden, but otherwise had no effect.

  Remo stared. The blister was opaque. He could not see into it. He wondered what the thing thought it was doing by just standing there. Before, it had run. Was it taunting them now? Remo pretended to draw back, but on a hunch, sent his fist crashing for the face.

  The creature quailed as if struck a mortal blow. But it shook its head and resumed its defiant stance.

  Remo took Chiun aside.

  "We can see it. But we can't touch it."

  "There is no scent either."

  "Look, I know it seems spooky, but I don't think it's a ghost."

  "Of course it is not a ghost. Remo, do not be ridiculous. Ghosts do not look like that thing. It is electrical."

  "That's my conclusion. So what do we do?"

  "Let us attempt to communicate with it," Chiun said, girding his kimono skirts and marching back to the waiting creature.

  "Why don't you let me try?" Remo offered. "You're pretty upset, I can tell."

  "Can you speak fluent Russian?"

  "You know I can't."

  "Then this is my task. For I speak excellent Russian, as does this creature."

  "How do you know that?"

  "The word it spoke on two occasions," Chiun said. "Krahseevah. It is Russian for 'beautiful.' "

  "Beautiful? Beautiful what?"

  "Simply 'beautiful.' Like a sunset or an Ung poem. It is an exclamation of appreciation."

  As they approached the creature, a red light suddenly glowed in the center of its belt rheostat. It lit up like a resentful red eye.

  The creature looked down. It started. Abruptly it

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  turned and clumped off stiff-leggedly. It waved its arms as if on fire.

  "Come on," Remo shouted.

  They overhauled the creature easily. They kept pace with it. Every so often, Chiun reached out in a futile attempt to grab it. Remo simply kept pace. The bulbous face continually bent down to the glow from the rheostat buckle.

  "I got a hunch about this," Remo called.

  The creature dodged toward a stand of trees by the side of a road.

  "Damn," Remo said. "Once he's in those trees, he's going to pull one of those vanishing acts of his."

  "If you are so concerned about that," Chiun said querulously, "then you attempt to stop him. I am the one doing all the work."

  "Where the hell is Robin, I wonder?" Remo asked, looking over his shoulder.

  He saw the helicopter almost as soon as he heard the wop-wop-wop of its rotor. It was Robin. She was bearing down on them, the chopper's skids skimming the nap of the ground.

  "Don't look now, Chiun, but Robin's got her feathers in an uproar," Remo shouted. "Better duck!"

  Remo hit the ground. Chiun danced out of the way as the helicopter, twisting like an angry wasp, swept overhead. It went through the running creature and lifted just clear of the trees.

  When it circled back, there was no sign of the creature. There was only the shadow-clotted stand of trees.

  The helicopter circled angrily. Then, as if relenting, it settled to the ground.

  "It's in that bunch of trees," Remo said, opening the door.

  Robin sat staring through the Plexiglas bubble.

  "Robin?"

  "I went right through him," she choked. "He went through me. I didn't feel anything. He was inside this

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  helicopter. Then he was gone. It was like he wasn't real."

  "Why don't you just come out?" Rerao said solicitously. "We'll talk about it."

  He reached out to take her arm. She wouldn't budge.

  "He is a ghost, isn't he? An actual ghost."

  "No," Remo said. "He's no ghost. Come on out and I'll try to explain it to you."

  "I never used to believe in ghosts," Robin said in a stunned voice. "They didn't fit into my world. They're not in the regs."

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  When Robin Green was collected enough to step from the Bell Ranger helicopter, Remo patiently explained what he and Chiun had witnessed.

  "So you see," Remo finished quietly, "he can't be a ghost. Ghosts don't run around with battery packs strapped to their backs."

  Robin shuddered visibly. "I went through him," she moaned. "It was as if he was laughing at me. And that unnatural white face!"

  "All white faces are unnatural," Chiun said under his breath. He was staring into the silent trees.

  "Do you mind?" Remo said. Turning to Robin again, he took her by the shoulders. He looked her square in the eye. "Come on, get a grip on yourself. That was no ghost. Just because we can't explain it doesn't mean we have to be afraid of it."

  Robin looked up. Her blue eyes were miserable.

  "I don't know how to feel about this anymore," she said, her voice hollow. Her lower lip trembled uncontrollably.

  "Join the club. But if we're going to deal with this, we're going to have to do it rationally. Even Chiun doesn't believe it's a ghost anymore. He says it's Russian."

  "Russian?" Robin said sharply.

  "That word, krahseevah" Remo explained. "It's Russian. It means 'beautiful.' "

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  "He said that when he saw the jeans," Robin said slowly. "And the steaks."

  "Then he is definitely a Russian," Chiun announced. "Only a Russian would become excited over American blue jeans." He kept his narrow eyes on the trees.

  "Hah! There! Did you see?" he demanded, pointing.

  Remo's head snapped around. He saw a ghostly white light slip between two trees.

  "Okay," Remo said decisively. "He's on the move again. My guess is he'll try to confuse us with the old shell game. Instead of which shell is the pea under, it'll be which tree is the Krahseevah hiding in."

  "Krahseevah?" Chiun and Robin said in unison.

  "Anybody got a better name for it?" Remo wanted to know.

  No one did. Swiftly Remo explained his plan.

  "Robin. You get up in the air. I think our Krahseevah is in trouble. Chiun and I will try to flush him out of the trees. See if you can spot him when he tries to leave. When you get a fix, we'll just hop on and follow him."

  "What good will that do?" Robin asked doubtfully. "You know we can't touch him. How can we catch him?"

  Remo kept an eye on the tree the Krahseevah had entered as he answered. "It's like this," he said. "It knows we can't touch it, yet when we chased it, it stopped dead and let us prove that for ourselves. It could have kept on going. But I think it wanted to discourage us. Maybe it figured if we realized it was beyond our reach, we wouldn't bother to follow it."

  "It is protecting something," Chiun said quickly. "A lair, perhaps."

  "Exactly," Remo returned. "And if it's trying to get to a special place, maybe w
e can trap it there. Somehow."

  "A sound plan," Chiun said. "Let us execute it."

  "Are you with us on this?" Remo asked Robin.

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  Robin Green stuck out her chin decisively. "I'm going to clip this bird's wings," she said. "You just watch me."

  She ran to the helicopter and sent it into the air. She circled methodically.

  Remo turned to Chiun. "Okay, know which tree he went behind?"

  "Of course."

  "Good. Go for it. I'll circle in from the other side. I have a hunch he won't stay inside very long. Maybe he can't. Let's see what develops."

  Remo slipped around the edge of the stand. Then he plunged in. He moved quietly, making less sound than a stalking cat. His deep-set brown eyes adjusted to what was now pitch blackness. He would not need his night vision to spot the glowing Krahseevah, but it helped to avoid ground roots and rocks. The Krahseevah might be as stealthy as Sinanju, but Remo guessed it could hear, even if it didn't have external ears.

  He came up on a great box elder. Chiun stood guard over it.

  Chiun laid a finger to his lips as a signal for Remo to be silent.

  Remo nodded. He pointed to the tree. Chiun nodded firmly.

  They waited. After ten minutes, Remo began to have doubts. His idea was to surround the tree so they were ready when the thing made its next move. He looked around. He picked a fortunate time to look around. About thirty yards distant, a faint glow appeared on the trunk of a great elm. It was like a luminous fungus.

  "Over there," Remo said, waving Chiun along.

  The luminous spot quickly withdrew.

  When they got to the tree, they surrounded it.

  "What did you see?" Chiun demanded hotly.

  "It stuck its face out of the bark," Remo whispered. "Right . . . about . . . here." He tapped the spot.

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  Chiun peered intently. "You are certain?"

  "One way to find out."

  It was a relatively old tree, so Remo simply attacked it with the hard edge of his hand. He hammered away, each blow splitting off chunks of bark and pale wood.

  The trunk keeled over with splintering finality. Remo was set to react instantly to what was revealed. To his surprise, there was only emptiness where the elm had stood.

  "Damn!" Remo said. "He must have slipped out the back."

  Chiun's eyes raked the surroundings. "That one," he announced. He flounced to a nearby oak. He approached it angrily. With a single fingernail he split the trunk down the center. It separated, falling in two equal halves.

  But the Krahseevah was not inside that tree either.

  "Now what do we do?" Remo asked, looking around at the ranks of trees. "We can't chop them all down."

  "Why not?" Chiun demanded, attacking another oak. It fell with a thunderclap of sound.

  "Because that farmer we met probably owns this grove. Probably makes his living off them. Farmers have it tough enough these days. Hey! Over there," Remo suddenly spat out.

  They saw the Krahseevah slip between two distant trees like a will-o'-the-wisp. It melted into an oak.

  They attacked the oak with furious energy. It was dying, the roots and limbs rotten. Their blows shook it, but the wood was soft-so soft that the oak simply shed chips instead of toppling. It took them nearly five minutes of hand-and-foot chipping to reduce the dying tree to a ragged broken stump.

  Still no Krahseevah.

  "This could go on all night," Remo groaned.

  "Better that we split up," Chiun suggested. "We will have a greater chance of finding it."

  They went their separate ways. Above their heads,

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  Robin's helicopter circled and circled. Then the rotor sound began to miss and sputter.

  "Uh-oh," Remo said. He went up an elm and watched as the helicopter settled to earth. Robin flew out of it. She fell to kicking the helicopter's snout in frustration.

  "Everyone's in a bad mood tonight," he said, coming down from the branches.

  When Robin Green got tired of abusing the helicopter, she approached the trees. Remo glided up behind her.

  "Boo!" he said gently.

  She turned on him, her face angry. "Don't do that!"

  "Sorry. Run out of gas?"

  Robin nodded. "I radioed for a jeep. We're not licked yet."

  "Let's hope. We spotted it a bunch of times. But it's slippery."

  "They're bringing chain saws too."

  "Don't you think you're taking this to extremes? Somebody went to a lot of trouble to plant these trees a long time before we were born."

  "A tree is just a tree. But national security is forever. Besides, this is just a shelterbelt. It's here to keep snowdrifts off the silo-access roads."

  "Just so I'm not the one being sued. Let's go find Chiun."

  They found Chiun stalking the shelterbelt like an angry tiger. He was not happy, and looked it.

  "I think the Russian is gone," Chiun said sourly.

  "What makes you say that, Little Father?" Remo asked.

  "I have kept a sharp watch. I have seen no glowing lights. I think he has left this place."

  "If he has, then we've really lost him," Robin said morosely.

  "Might as well wait for the jeep," Remo ventured. "We're not going anyplace without it."

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  When the jeep pulled up, driven by an SP wearing fatigues and a blue beret, Robin Green ran to meet it. She rooted around in the back and then glared in the driver's freckled face.

  "What's this?" she shouted, pointing back. "One miserable chain saw?"

  "It's all I could find," the SP said. "The Air Force doesn't fight many forests."

  "Watch your mouth, airman," Robin snapped, yanking the chain saw up onto her shoulder.

  "Go easy on him," Remo said. "He's just trying to help. And what happened to the scared little girl of a few minutes ago?"

  "I was not scared," Robin insisted. "I was thrown off my stride."

  "Whatever. Look, as I said before, we're not going to get anywhere running in all directions at once and screaming at the top of our lungs. Forget the chain saw. It would take all night to cut every one of these trees down. And I think Chiun is right. It slipped away. Once we lost the helicopter, it must have known it could make a break for it unseen. It did. Let's try to pick up the trail."

  "Where, genius? Where do we start?"

  "Yes, genius," Chiun inserted. "Where should we start? It is a large state."

  Remo turned to the driver. "Buddy, where's the nearest gas station?"

  "Civilization or Mogas?"

  "What's Mogas?"

  "Military gas depot. We got one at Grand Forks."

  "He wouldn't go there," Remo mused aloud. "Civilization."

  "About five miles north of here."

  "Good," Remo said, hopping into the passenger seat. "Take us there."

  When Robin and Chiun hesitated, Remo said, "Shake a leg. We haven't got all night."

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  They piled in the back. Chiun threw the chain saw over the side, claiming that he needed to make room for himself, but actually he wanted to get rid of the detested smell of oil.

  "Why, pray tell, are we going to a gas station?" Robin asked as they flew down the road.

  "Yes, Remo. Pray tell, why?" Chiun demanded.

  "How did you end up on her side?" Remo asked Chiun. "Never mind. Look, the Krahseevah acted pretty cocky when we first cornered it. Then that red light went on and it took off like it had ants in its pants. I think that light meant that its battery was going. My guess is that it's going to get it recharged."

  "Oh, that's absurd," Robin snorted.

  "You have a better theory?"

  Robin lapsed into sullen silence. The rushing air threw her red hair around as the jeep sped through the empty North Dakota night.

  They pulled up at Ed's Filling Station. It was a tarpaper shack with two old-fashioned pumps set in the dirt. One pump was regular, the other gave unleaded, Ed, the proprie
tor, said.

  "But the unleaded one ain't working," he added.

  "Never mind the gas," Remo shot back. "See anything of a guy in white coveralls?"

  "You mean the Russian?"

  "Russian?" Remo, Chiun, and Robin said in the same flat blank voice.

  "Yup. Leastways, he sounded Russian to me. I never met a Russian before, but he had the accent. You know, like they do on the TV."

  "Let me guess," Remo said. "He bought a battery?"

  "Good guess," Ed said. "But no. We don't sell batteries here. Just gas. He said his car broke down a ways back. Battery went dead. Needed a recharge. Smart guy. He had it slung on his back."

  "And you gave it to him!" Robin shouted in an accusing voice.

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  "What else was I gonna do? Stranded motorist like that. Of course I did. Fixed him up real good."

  "You didn't notice that he was dressed rather oddly, did you?" Robin asked, arching an eyebrow.

  "You mean the plastic suit? Sure, he looked kinda like an astronaut. He even carried a helmet under his arm. I thought it strange, all right. Why would he carry his helmet all this way? No one's gonna steal it from his car, way out here."

  "You saw his face?" Robin asked. "What did he look like?"

  Ed considered. "Nothing special about him. Friendly. Kinda on the dark side. Black hair, black eyes. Your basic Russian type, I'd say."

  "And you're obviously such an expert." Robin sneered.

  "Let's cut to the chase," Remo interrupted. "Which way?"

  "Well, he came from that direction," Ed stated, pointing south. "But when he was done, he took off in that direction." Ed pointed north. "After he made the call, that is."

  "Call?" Remo asked.

  "Yeah, asked to use my pay phone. Said sure. No harm in it that I could see. He called a cab."

  "Happen to remember the name of the cab company?" Remo said, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. "It would mean a lot to us."

  "Keep your twenty. I don't need it. I'm the only gas station for forty miles hereabouts. I do fine. Why do you think I can afford not to stock batteries?"