"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 proprietor, 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?"
"So which one?" Remo asked, pocketing the twenty.
"Ned's Cab. We don't have no real cab companies out here. Ned's the only hired driver you can get."
"Got his number?"
"Business card's taped to the pay phone. See for yourself."
"Great," Remo said, hopping out of the jeep. "Thanks."
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Remo went to the pay phone. He dialed Ned's Cab. Ned himself answered.
"You picked up a Russian at Ed's Filling Station," Remo said. "Do you remember where you took him?"