"That is all of them," Chiun answered thinly.
"Good," Anna said, pocketing her binoculars. "You are safe, for none of them is Skachkov." Chiun's prophecy and Anna's obsession over this one commando were finally getting to Remo.
"How good is this guy?" he muttered.
"Just be careful, Remo," Anna stressed.
When he glanced in the rearview mirror, he saw a look of genuine concern on Anna's pale face.
"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just stay in the car. Chiun and I will take care of these guys."
The soldiers didn't seem very concerned about a lone vehicle approaching their conquered town. One had been talking on a stolen cell phone as Remo's truck approached. He continued his conversation as the Land Rover stopped, a blandly arrogant eye directed toward the intruders.
Only when Remo and Chiun emerged did the soldier with the phone suddenly grow interested. As the other three commandos raised their weapons, the fourth man spoke in rushed, almost reverent tones into his phone.
"What gives?" Remo asked as he swung his door shut.
As he and his pupil walked over to the men at the barricade, the Master of Sinanju cocked an ear.
"He says he recognizes you," Chiun replied. The instant he said it, the old Asian's face registered surprise.
"What?" Remo asked, noting his teacher's expression.
"He claims to know me, as well."
"Just like the one in the camp," Remo mused. "And one of the guys in that village called me Master just before I pulled his plug. Gotta be Purcell. He told them about us."
"He did not tell them everything," Chiun intoned ominously. "For he obviously did not warn them of the penalty for stealing from the House of Sinanju." Shoving in front of his pupil, he flounced over to the commandos. "Attention, thieves!" he proclaimed. "Being Russian and, thus, used to having everything of value stripped from you all your wretched lives, including gold, dignity and sobriety, you no doubt knew that this day of atonement would come the moment you first chose to steal from Sinanju. Now, although you deserve no mercy, mercy shall be granted nonetheless. I promise you, your deaths will be swift. The line forms here. No shoving."
He folded his arms imperiously over his narrow chest.
Before him, the four Russians didn't know what to make of the strange little man. The soldier on the phone was whispering into the mouthpiece when he spotted something beyond Remo and Chiun. His eyes widened.
Hissing a few final words, he stuffed the phone away.
Remo had sensed Anna exiting the truck. Before he could tell her to get back inside, the men had raised their guns to her. A single shot cracked the cold air.
The bullet fired from Anna's automatic caught the soldier with the cell phone in the chest. He flopped back onto the hood of a Dodge that was part of their barricade.
As the first fell, the rest opened fire.
"Dammit, Anna, can't you keep it in your pants?" Remo growled. He was already moving on the men. With the flat of his palm, Remo met the blazing barrel of a Kalashnikov in the infinitesimal sliver of time between fired bullets. A nudge sent the weapon launching back, severing the arm of the soldier at the shoulder. Both arm and gun flew backward, the itching finger still firing. Unfortunately for the commando, something had come between the gun and its original target.
Bullets fired from his own gun by his own traitorous arm popped the soldier's head like a ripe August melon.
"That woman is a menace," Chiun fumed, swirling in beside his pupil. A flying foot separated a head from its neck. "She has brought chaos to an orderly surrender. I don't know what you ever saw in her."
"Then you're not looking hard enough," Remo said.
There was only one soldier left. He twisted his gun between Remo and Chiun, unsure what had just happened.
"Gimme that, dummy," Remo said.
Tugging the rifle from the man's grasping fingers, he bopped the soldier on the head. The stunned commando dropped to his bottom on the cold road.
Even as the last man was falling, Anna was scurrying out from behind the Land Rover and hurrying to the barricade. Her gun was still clutched in her hand.
"We are in trouble," Anna said.
"Why? Did you run out of people to shoot?" Remo asked.
Ignoring his sarcasm, she waved her gun at the sky. Both Remo and Chiun had already heard the rumbling coming from the west. It had been soft at first, carried on the cold wind. But it was growing louder. The black dots of a fleet of Hind gunships speckled the gray sky. A sound like distant thunder rumbled closer. Passing the road a mile to the north, the attack helicopters swept into Fairbanks.
"Zhirinsky," Anna hissed.
Remo glanced at her. "You sure?"
She nodded. "He purchased several dozen Hinds from General Feyodov's black market cell. And this grand entry is just like him. The conquering hero of the Soviet Union."
"There's something I've been meaning to ask," Remo said with a scowl. "If you people know everyone who's in the damn black market, why the hell don't you arrest them?"
She smiled sadly. "Russia is now ruled by a handful of wealthy black marketers, called oligarchs," she explained. "And there is a saying now-how many oligarchs does it take to rule Russia?" When she saw Remo's blank expression, her smile only grew sadder. "All of them," she said quietly, in answer to her own question.
On the ground the dazed soldier stirred. His eyes strayed to Anna. When he saw her, something that almost seemed like guilt surfaced on his wind-burned face.
"Guess we don't need to save one anymore," Remo sighed.
"No," Anna said. "We do not."
Before another word could be spoken, Anna raised her automatic and fired point-blank into the soldier's face.
"When did they start paying you by the bullet?" Remo snarled, hopping back from the splatter.
But Anna was already turning away. Pocketing her gun, she headed back for their truck. Chiun padded in her wake.
Remo glanced down at the last soldier. When he looked back, Anna was climbing into the Land Rover. "Hmm," Remo said softly to himself.
With a thoughtful frown, he trailed the others back to the waiting truck.
Chapter 27
His years as director of CURE and as head of Folcroft Sanitarium had given Dr. Harold W. Smith a unique perspective into the mind of madness. As he and Mark Howard scanned the reports on Smith's monitor, experience would not allow the older man to share his young assistant's amazement.
"Unbelievable," Howard said. "Is this for real?"
"So it would seem," Smith replied. "The population of Fairbanks has been released. The first civilians reached Fort Wainwright's bivouacked Sixth Light Infantry Division ten minutes ago."
"Why let them go?" Mark asked, confusion filling his wide face. "Aren't they bargaining chips?"
"Not any longer," Smith said. "And if you are to survive in this job, it is vitally important for you to realize that madmen are not always as predictable as many textbooks and behavioral scientists would have you believe."
"Madmen? So you think Zhirinsky did this himself?"
Smith nodded. "This latest news came after Zhirinsky's incursion force of twelve Mil U-24 gunships were given free clearance across the Kuskokwim Mountains. They've reached Fairbanks by now. I believe Zhirinsky was on one of them."
The assistant CURE director stood beside Smith's old leather chair. As he studied the computer screen, Howard's knuckles rested beyond the edge of the capacitor keyboard.
"I've been checking to see if the Russian government is involved," Mark said. "Their president's holed up in the Kremlin. And the last two presidents have disappeared. No one knows where they are."
Smith shook his head. "I just got off the White House phone twenty minutes ago. When news of the nuclear bomb in Fairbanks broke, our President received a call from his counterpart in Russia pledging support. The Russian president has even offered troops."