Within a quarter-hour, Remo satisfied himself that no one had been waiting for him outside the hotel. He had some freedom now, and it would give him time to think. Chiun was right about his need for exercise and practice, though. While he was thinking, he would also walk.
He turned toward Market Street, three-quarters of a mile away, and melded with the darkness like a shadow.
Audrey Moreland had no special destination when she left the Shangri-la Hotel. Her things were packed, and she didn't feel sleepy. Quite the opposite, in fact. She knew that it would be a waste of time to simply lie in bed, count sheep or some such nonsense, and she didn't feel like using chemicals to take the edge off her excitement.
Eight more hours till they all convened for breakfast, and the trip would start within an hour to ninety minutes after that. She thought about the jungle and its secrets, waiting for her just beyond the glare of city lights that made the stars invisible, and wished that she was out there now, this minute, getting started on the quest.
Calm down, she thought, it's coming. If you get yourself worked up, you'll never get to sleep.
Which brought her back to thoughts of Dr. Renton Ward.
He was a handsome man, not gorgeous in the standard movie-star tradition, but she wouldn't kick him out of bed. There was a certain air about him that she didn't often sense in fellow scientists—a hidden sensuality, she thought, that would require some digging on her part to realize its full potential. There was confidence, as well, beyond the sort that basked in the reflected glow of monographs and textbooks published. Renton Ward was not so much a man of science, she decided, as he was a man.
She thought of poor old Safford then, and had to smile. She was aware of the pathetic rumors circulating back at Georgetown, hinting at some great affair between herself and Dr. Stockwell. She encouraged the absurd belief as best she could, for reasons of her own. It kept the other campus Romeos at bay, for one thing, and it also seemed to satisfy her self-styled mentor, the illusion of a love affair relieving him from any need to stumble through the motions on his own.
Tonight, ironically, had been the first time Stockwell showed her any warning signs of jealousy. Perhaps their change of scene, to the exotic East, had goaded him to speak. In any case, she knew the situation would bear watching. There was no point leading Safford on, provoking some misguided confrontation he was sure to lose.
Try as she might to focus on the object of her visit to Malaysia, Audrey's thoughts strayed back to Renton Ward. Pike Chalmers didn't like him—that was obvious—but Chalmers had a major ego problem. God's gift to women, and a one-man mutual admiration society to boot. It made her skin crawl when he stared at her, undressed her with a gaze that felt like clammy hands on her flesh. She knew exactly what he wanted, from the moment they were introduced. He'd need to be watched on the trail, where true to type he might revert to original primitive man, though she wasn't certain those progenitors deserved such a comparison. The crunch would come if Chalmers tried to act on his desires, take what he fancied and to hell with her consent.
The nightclub looked like any other tourist trap in Southeast Asia, geckos clinging to the wall around a garish neon sign, but Audrey didn't mind. It was a change from the hotel and a diversion from the omnipresent native vendors with their handicrafts, who made the city seem like one huge marketplace.
Inside the smoky, strobe-lit club, a cut-rate stereo was throbbing with the tones of Barry Manilow, advising anyone who cared that he had written songs to make the whole world sing. A smiling hostess looked around for Audrey's escort, finally grasped that she was on her own, and led her to a table near the bar.
"You are American?" the hostess asked.
"That's right. Is there a problem?"
Smiling at the very thought. "Tudak sisah," she said. "No problem."
Coming back with Audrey's rum and Coke, the hostess also brought a tiny U.S. flag, its toothpick staff embedded in a piece of cork, and placed it on the table, near the scented candle that was Audrey's only source of light besides the flashing strobes.
Of course, thought Audrey with a smile. The flag would label her a tourist so that no man in the club mistook her for a prostitute on call. In some parts of the world, the little banner would have been a magnet for hostility, perhaps inviting physical attack, but there was said to be no great dislike for Yankees in Malaysia. If all went well, she could enjoy a drink or three in peace, unwind a bit and then walk back to the hotel in time to catch some sleep before her scheduled wake-up call at half-past four.
"We're both alone, I take it."
She recognized the voice with a sinking feeling before she saw Pike Chalmers, looming like a grizzly bear beside her table. What rotten luck for her to pick the very bar where he was killing time.
Or was it simply luck? Could he have followed her from the hotel?
"What a surprise," she said, no indication in her tone that she was thrilled by the coincidence.
"Mind if I join you, then?"
"The truth is—"
"Marvelous." He pulled the second chair out, carried it around the table to her left and settled in beside her. "There we are, all nice and cozy, then."
"I can't stay long," she said.
"No problem." Chalmers flagged the waitress as she passed and ordered a double whiskey, neat. "I couldn't sleep myself," he said. "Too much excitement, what?"
"I wouldn't think there's much about a trip like this you haven't seen before."
"You never know," said Chalmers, staring at her breasts. She felt the nipples pucker with embarrassment and knew that he was bound to misinterpret the reaction. If only she had worn a jacket, or at least a bra!
"I understand you have experience in the Malaysian jungle."
"Love, I've got experience around the world. You name it—Africa, the Amazon, New Guinea, India. One jungle's fairly like another when you're on the ground. New predators to watch out for, o' course, but that's my specialty."
"So I was told."
"One of my specialties, at least."
The wink made Audrey want to scream. This man was one great chauvinist cliche personified, an oinker in the first degree. She felt a sudden need to take him down a peg or two.
"I've never understood the thrill attached to killing helpless animals," she said, still smiling as an angry flush suffused his features.
"Helpless? Love, there's nothing helpless in the bush, except a man with no experience. The bloody ants and flies can kill you, never mind the tuskers, cats and buffalo. You ought to see the souvenirs I carry on my hide sometime," he told her with a yellow smile. "You might stop sympathizing with the beasts and have a bit of care for me."
"But surely, when you make a special trip to kill them with your traps and guns, whatever they do to you is self-defense."
The hunter's smile turned brittle. "Self-defense, you say? It may seem different to you on the trail, when you've got hungry jackals or a tiger sniffing at your tent flaps. You'll be bloody glad to have a man beside you then."
"Let's hope it never comes to that," she said. "If you'll excuse me—"
Audrey rose to leave, her drink untouched, but Chalmers gulped his whiskey down and bolted to his feet.
"The streets aren't safe this time of night," he told her, peering down the V-neck of her blouse. "I'll walk you home, love. Tuck you in all safe and sound."
"If you insist," she said.
"I do, indeed."
The club on Market Street held no attraction for Remo, with its smoky atmosphere and reek of alcohol. He would have passed it by without a second thought, except that Audrey Moreland chose that very moment to emerge, with canned music trailing after her and Pike Chalmers almost treading on her heels.
They made an awkward couple, standing on the sidewalk for a moment as if neither one of them could find the proper words to end a dismal date. A second glance at Chalmers, though, and Remo knew he wasn't anxious for the night to end. As for the look on Audrey's face, it could be anything
from boredom to an alcoholic daze. He didn't know her well enough to judge, beyond a vague impression that she seemed unhappy in the big man's company.
So much for aimless rambling.
Remo faded back into the shadows of a nearby alley, wailed while the mismatched couple shared a few more words, then turned back in the general direction of the Shangri-la. He gave them half a block, then fell in step behind them, pleased that he could follow someone for a change, instead of watching out to see if he was being tailed.
They covered half a dozen blocks before Pike Chalmers made his move. The street was narrower than most, lights few and far between. From twenty yards behind, Remo saw Chalmers drape his arm across the woman's shoulders, Audrey flinching from his touch as if the arm had been electrified.
"Now, love, don't be that way."
Without the background noise of Market Street, the big man's words were clearly audible.
"Don't touch me!" Audrey took a quick step backward, wobbling on her heels.
"You don't mean that," said Chalmers. "Not deep down."
"I mean exactly that, you oaf!"
"Oaf, is it? Rhymes with loaf.' I've got a loaf just right to fit your oven, dearie, or I'm very much mistaken."
Remo moved up on silent feet with the speed of wind and was immediately behind them when he spoke.
"It's a small world, after all."
Pike Chalmers swung around to face him, squinting in the dark, then sneering as he recognized the face. "Too bloody small," he said. "You'll shove off if you know what's good for you."
"Is there a problem here?"
"No problem, Doctor."
"Yes!" As Audrey spoke, she moved to stand at Remo's side, warm fingers resting lightly on his biceps. "Would you walk me back to the hotel?"
"No problem," Remo said.
"You sure of that?" asked Chalmers. "I believe you'll find there is a problem when you start to meddle in another man's affairs."
"You're drunk, friend. Maybe you should hit the sheets so you don't miss the flight tomorrow, eh?"
"I'll hit your bloody sheets, you little faggot!"
Chalmers put his weight behind the swing, but it was nothing special. Remo pulled his punch to keep the hulk alive, but it was still enough to drop him in his tracks, out cold before he hit the pavement.
Audrey gaped at Chalmers, laid out in the street. "My God," she said, "what happened?"
"I suppose he slipped and hit his head," Remo answered. "We could try and carry him to the hotel."
"Forget about it. He can sleep it off right here, for all I care."
"Well, if you're sure—"
"I'm sure. If someone rips his wallet off, it serves him right."
She looped her arm through Remo's, and they put the fallen hulk behind them, crossing over to Jalan Pudu and starting on the loop back to the Shangri-la.
"I'm glad you came along back there," she said. "It could have gotten ugly."
"You should be more careful choosing dates," said Remo.
"Bite your tongue! I wouldn't date that caveman on a bet. He saw me in the club and… oh, well, never mind. I wanted Safford—Dr. Stockwell—to get rid of him, but he's supposed to be the best at what he does."
"Which is?"
"Shoot animals," she said with thinly veiled contempt. "The great white hunter, don't you know?"
"I didn't understand this was a hunting expedition," Remo said.
"You're right, of course. It isn't. But we had to make some kind of gesture toward security and all that sort of thing. There was insurance to consider, and the truth is, I don't want to find a lion in my tent if I can help it."
"Lions live in Africa," said Remo.
"Anyway, I'm told the hired gun stays… unless he's cracked his skull and can't go on tomorrow. God, you don't suppose we'll have to push the trip back and look for a replacement?"
"I suspect he'll be all right," said Remo, "but I wouldn't want the headache he'll find waiting for him in the morning."
"Serves him right," said Audrey, "but enough about that creep. I understand you're from New Orleans."
"Not originally." Remo tapped into the file CURE had compiled on Renton Ward. "I've worked there for the past eight years, but I'm from Kansas, if you trace it back."
"What got you hooked on snakes?" she asked.
He smiled. "What got you hooked on plants that died a hundred million years ago?"
"Touché." She thought about it for a moment, then went on. "I guess it crept up on my blind side, Renton. I was into botany and horticulture as a freshman out in California, when I took a course on prehistoric life. It was supposed to fill a blank spot in my schedule, no big challenge, but it got me thinking. How can a species dominate the earth for several billion years, and then just fade away? I mean, if we can solve that riddle, there's a chance we still might save ourselves, you know?"
"Are we in danger of extinction?"
"Every day," she told him earnestly. "We've got pollution—air, sea and land—overpopulation and a lot of shaky fingers on the trigger that could blow us all away. So what if Russia fell apart? It's not like one regime was causing all the problems in the world. Hey, what's the joke?"
She caught him smiling, seemed about to take offense.
Remo moved to head her anger off. "No joke," he said. "It's just that you sound more like someone who should be out leading demonstrations than collecting fossils."
"I do both," said Audrey, "when I have the time. And what about yourself?"
"I mostly hang around the serpentarium and milk my snakes," said Remo.
Audrey giggled like a schoolgirl. "When you say it that way, it sounds positively lecherous."
"It gets to be a handful," he allowed.
"I can imagine. What's your favorite?"
"Snake? That has to be the king. Twelve feet of solid muscle. One dose of his venom is enough to kill a hundred men. We have a mated pair back in New Orleans."
"And you handle them?"
"I milk each of them once a month."
"You must be very brave."
"It keeps me on my toes," he said. "The other snakes are dangerous, of course—the rattlers, coral snakes, moccasins, the bushmaster—but if you mess up with the king, you're history."
"You must have magic hands."
"It's in the wrist," he said.
"You'll have to show me sometime. How you do it."
"Have you got a snake?"
"We'll improvise."
"That could be challenging," he said.
"You must keep busy in New Orleans," Audrey said. "I've read about the women there, in the French Quarter."
"Well—"
"Come on, now, Renton. Please don't tell me you're a monk."
"I don't have much free time," he said by way of explanation.
"It's a good thing that we got you, then, before you waste away. All work, no play, et cetera."
"I understood this was a working expedition, Dr.—"
"Audrey, please."
"All right."
"It is, of course, but there's no law that says we can't enjoy ourselves along the way, now, is there?"
Remo thought about it. "Not that I'm aware of."
"There you go."
They were a block south of the Shangri-la and gaining fast. When Audrey saw the progress they had made, she dropped her grip on Remo's arm and took his hand.
"You know," she said, "you saved my life tonight."
"I doubt that very much."
"My honor, then. The proverbial fate worse than death."
"Something tells me you make out all right on your own," Remo said.
"Oh, I do. But it's more fun with two."
"So I'm told."
"You deserve a reward from the damsel in distress."
"I'll have to take a rain check, Audrey. Gear to pack, that kind of thing."
"A rain check, eh?"
"If that's permissible."
"You do know where we're going, don't you?"
"Rain forest all the way," she told him, rising on her toes to kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "You get some sleep, now. Save your strength."
"I'll see you in the morning."
"And don't forget to pack your rubbers," Audrey told him. "It gets wet here in the bush."
"I'll bet it does," said Remo, and he started back toward his hotel.
Chapter Seven
"The woman has desire for you?" asked Chiun.
"It looks that way to me," said Remo.
Chiun reached out and thumped him on the forehead with a bony index finger. "Think with this head, always," he demanded. "Sex is a temptation to be overcome, an instrument to be employed for higher purposes. It is the nature of the female to deceive."
"I hear you, Little Father."
"Yes, but do you listen?"
"Well, my ears are ringing at the moment."
"Always joking, like a monkey in the zoo."
"I have to go," said Remo, glancing at his watch. "It wouldn't do for me to miss the kickoff."
Chiun was seated in his customary place before the television, even though the set was not turned on. "If you can manage to retrieve a dragon's tooth," he said, "by all means bring it back with you. They make strong medicine and fortify virility."
"What difference does it make?" asked Remo.
"We're supposed to overcome temptation and employ our instruments for higher purposes."
"Nobody likes a smart wasoo."
"You'll have to tell me what that means someday."
"When you are old enough to understand."
"I'm going now," said Remo.
"Watch the big man," Chiun suggested as the door swung shut behind him. "It was negligent of you to let him live."
You may be right, thought Remo as he waited for the elevator, passing up the stairs this morning on a whim. But killing Chalmers on the street, in front of Audrey Moreland, would have caused innumerable problems off the top, including a police investigation and delay of their departure for the Tasek Bera. As it was, the hulking Brit had either learned a lesson or he hadn't. Either way, his clumsy fighting style would pose no major challenge.
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