"Lesson number four," Remo said coldly as the bodies slipped from his hands. "Steal from the rest or face the wrath of the best."
He heard a slippery hiss behind him. Wheeling, he was just in time to see the steaming red sack that was the tenth and final commando's internal organs slopping from out a yawning incision in his abdomen. The man joined his insides on the ground. Chiun stood above the gutted body, a look of deep disdain on his leathery face.
"Dammit, you didn't save one," Remo groused. "Neither did you," the Master of Sinanju replied. He flicked an imaginary dollop of blood off his index fingernail as he padded over to his pupil.
"Perfect," Remo scowled. "We better start figuring out a schedule for whose turn it is to save one, 'cause we sure as hell can't keep doing this all the time." He pointed at one of the dead men. "That one yelled some Russian claptrap at you before you finished him off. What'd he say?"
Chiun folded his hands inside his kimono sleeves. "'It is you,'" he replied, his voice betraying mild curiosity.
Remo looked from the body to the Master of Sinanju. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"I am Reigning Master of Sinanju. Perhaps my reputation has preceded me," the old man speculated.
"Right," Remo said skeptically. "Probably has your Topps rookie assassin trading card in a plastic collector's case on his bureau back home."
He squatted to pull the mask off the dead man. It wasn't easy, given the fact that the man's eyes were oozing down his face like a pair of runny two-minute eggs.
"Yuck," Remo complained as he tugged the mask free. He flung it to the snow. "You ever see this guy before?"
After peering at the dead man for but a moment, Chiun shook his head. "Whoever he is, he is unknown to me."
Standing, Remo surveyed the small encampment with a frown. There was no sign of how the men had gotten there. They might as well have been actual ghosts, dropped in the middle of nowhere like this.
Stooping, Remo checked a few pockets. He came up empty.
"Well, ain't this just hunky-dory," he groused.
When he glanced at the Master of Sinanju, he found that the old man wasn't listening to him. Lips puckered, Chiun had turned a shell-like ear to the south.
Remo cocked an ear the same way. The faint sound of a distant helicopter carried to his ears.
Chiun was already marching back toward the hill. "I hope it's their ride," Remo grumbled, following. "And if it is, question first, eviscerate second, got it?"
"Do not blame me if you can't keep track of your own silly plan," the Master of Sinanju called back. Up the hill and back down into the narrow gorge, they retraced their steps back out to the plain. By the time they emerged from the low hills, the helicopter had swept in close. A few hundred yards distant, it flew back and forth through the night sky.
The helicopter almost seemed to be lost. But when Remo and Chiun emerged from the hills, it suddenly found focus. Banking right, it steered a beeline for them.
"Infrared," Remo commented as they walked across the surface of the ankle-deep snow. He had detected the telegraphing signals directed from the approaching chopper.
The helicopter was of an unfamiliar design. An extra set of rotor blades rose into the sky above it. Furiously chopping at air, the helicopter quickly ate up the distance to them, coming to an angry hover above the two lonely men on the desolate plain.
Swirling clouds of snow blew out all around. "You think we're just gonna stand here looking at each other until the spring thaw?" Remo called to Chiun over the roar of the rotors.
His eyes had left the helicopter for but a moment. The instant they did, he saw a sudden look of tight concern appear on the wrinkled face of the Master of Sinanju.
Remo followed the old man's gaze back to the helicopter.
A face now peered out the small rear window. A fringe of blond hair peeked out from under a furry parka hood.
Remo's stomach sank.
An instant after he'd seen her, the face of Anna Chutesov disappeared from view and the helicopter began to descend from the frigid black sky.
Remo shot a hard look at the Master of Sinanju. "It's official," he called over the roar of the rotors. "We have a new winner in the Suckiest Week of My Life Sweepstakes."
His words swirled away in a vacuum of wind-tossed snow.
Chapter 16
Remo could tell by the grave look on Anna Chutesov's face when she emerged from the Kamov that things were even worse than either he or Chiun imagined.
She hurried over to them, the wind plastering the fur fringe of her heavy parka against her forehead. Her delicate face-used to freezing Russian winters-was bare. A scarf was knotted at her neck, spilling up around her pale chin.
"Are you gonna start showing up now every time we kack a Russian hit squad?" Remo asked her. "Because at the rate we've been going lately, you're gonna be racking up some major frequent-flyer miles."
"You killed some of them?" Anna asked by way of greeting. "Where are they?" Her tense voice was urgent.
"Nice to see you, too," Remo said dryly. "And since we've dispensed with the pleasantries, you mind telling me just what the hell you people think you're doing here?"
"The last time I checked I was a single person," Anna said thinly.
"Why buy the cow when it gives its milk away like a barnyard harlot?" the Master of Sinanju volunteered. His hands in his kimono sleeves, he appraised the Russian with bland distaste.
"I don't mean you you," Remo said to Anna. "I mean Russia you. We've got more dead Russians back there than you had running that backward country of yours back in the early eighties." He stabbed a thumb at the hills behind him.
"They are there?" Anna said, her voice intent. "How far? How many?"
"Ten," Remo replied. "About a mile and a half in."
Before he could say any more, she had turned on her heel and was marching back through the snow to the Kamov.
Remo gave Chiun a questioning look.
"Do not look at me," the old Korean sniffed. "She is your scarlet woman."
Turning wordlessly from his teacher, Remo dogged Anna back to the helicopter. Chiun padded alongside him.
"Where are you going?" Remo demanded,
"I must examine the bodies," Anna answered. "You may come along if you wish."
"That's mighty white of you," Remo said aridly. "And don't waste your time. I checked them already. No ID."
"You will forgive me, Remo, if I question your thoroughness?" Anna droned as she boarded the Kamov.
Remo's face fouled. "Who swiped your Pamprin?" he said. He tried to board the helicopter but the Master of Sinanju pushed past him, settling into the seat behind Anna's.
The Kamov was lifting off the ground even as Remo was pulling the door shut behind him. At Anna's direction, the pilot steered for the low hills.
"So what's the big Russian deal here?" Remo demanded as they swept across the plain.
"My government is not responsible for what is happening if that is what you mean," Anna replied. She was looking out the window. The first low hills dropped away behind them. "These men are renegades. There are more than just the ten you say you stopped. With any luck, this group can offer us some clue where the others might be."
"Yeah, well, we'd kind of like to know, too," Remo said. "Seeing as how these guys have somehow gotten hold of some bogus, watered-down version of Sinanju."
Anna's heart rate quickened. Both Remo and Chiun noted the change.
"I know," she admitted darkly.
"No, you don't," Remo said. "Sinanju the discipline is Sinanju the village's bread and butter. If someone steals from Sinanju, they're stealing food out of my people's mouths."
"Your people," Anna stressed.
"Yes, my people," Remo nodded. "They might be a pack of ugly, ungrateful backstabbers, but they're our pack of ugly, ungrateful backstabbers. We're responsible for them, and if someone else gets hold of Sinanju skills-any Sinanju skills-they dilute the market for the real deal. Not to mention making us look bad with their sloppy techniques. Back me up here, Little Father."