"You've seen one before?" Remo asked, surprised.
Chiun nodded. "I have many of them stored in a chest in the Master's House in Sinanju. I have not looked at them in a long, long time." His voice grew faraway. "My son Song used to carve them with his nails for the children of the village." The old man had taken years to tell Remo about Song, his son and first pupil who had died in training. And in that moment, Remo understood the true identity of the Master Who Never Was.
"I thought you said Song was almost nine when he died," Remo said quietly. "The boy I saw couldn't have been older than six."
When Chiun looked up, there was flitting sadness in his hazel eyes. But when he beheld the deeply sympathetic face of his pupil, his smile returned. "The Void reflects your true self," he explained. "My son who died was younger than his years because I tried to force him to grow up too quickly. It gladdens me to know that, in death, he is enjoying the childhood that I in my stubbornness would not permit him to have." He started to hand the figure back.
Remo shook his head. "You should keep it," he insisted.
But the old Korean shook his head. "I told you, I have others. This was a gift from my son in flesh to my son in spirit. Treasure always this gift from your brother, Remo."
He pressed the small stone into Remo's palm. Nodding, Remo replaced it in his pocket.
For a moment, he took out baby Karen's crucifix. A small rectangle of yellow paper fluttered to the ground.
As he studied the cross, the world suddenly seemed less cruel than it had just a few short days before. With but a ghost of lingering sadness, he started to put the cross away. Before he could, there came a gasp beside him.
"What is that?" the Master of Sinanju demanded. Remo braced himself, preparing for the usual carping about his latent Christianity.
"It's just a cross, Little Father," Remo said.
"Not that pagan idol," Chiun spit. "That. "
An accusing finger pointed to the piece of paper lying in the dirt. Remo gathered it up.
"Oh," he said. "It's my check from Deferens for the Batubizee hit."
"You accepted a check?" Chiun gasped. "A mere promise of payment? Remo, tear out my heart that I might not feel the agony of the knife you have driven into it." He pressed a hand against his chest.
"Oh, can the bad acting," Remo said, suppressing a grin. "Besides, I had him up to six million in gold."
"A likely story," the old man countered. Remo's face suddenly grew crafty. "While we're at it, how much did you get paid for all this?"
Chiun's back stiffened. "None of your business," he retorted. "And we are talking about you, not me. Do you not yet know that a check is even worse than government bills? It is a paper promise of more paper. Oh, the shame, Remo."
"It's not even like I ever intended to cash it," Remo said. Crumpling the check, he tossed it away. Before it hit the ground, a long-nailed hand snatched it from the air. Chiun laid the paper on his knee, smoothing it flat.
"We will stop at a bank as soon as we return to Bachsburg," the Master of Sinanju sniffed as he secreted the check into the folds of his kimono.
"Oh, no, we won't," Remo said. "I'm not endorsing that."
"That is not a problem," Chiun replied, fussing at his kimono sleeves. "In East Africa, baboons are known to come out of the jungle into inhabited areas."
"So what?" Remo asked warily.
Chiun raised a bemused eyebrow. "I will give a pen to one of them. Surely they can duplicate the jumble of scratches that constitute your signature."
Chapter 40
Luzuland, East Africa (AP)-An as yet unexplained underground tremor rocked this northern tribal homeland early this morning. Seismologists from nearby Bachsburg have been sent to investigate.
Preliminary reports indicate that the small earthquake has caused a slight shift in tectonic plates. As a result, a previously unknown underground river has broken through to the surface, flooding the manmade channels of an ancient irrigation system built during the days of the old Luzu Empire.
The inexplicable phenomenon, occurring as it has in a region not prone to seismic activity, has lent hope to the indigenous tribesmen. Chief Batubizee, leader of the Luzu tribe, has expressed confidence that this fresh supply of water will revive the formerly rich farmland of his ancient empire. When that day comes, the chief has promised that all debts incurred by the Luzu nation will be paid in full.