Ruby answered that women were really smarter than men and that what Chiun said was a sexist comment. Chiun wanted to know what "sexist" meant because he had heard it often on American television.
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"Sexist is thinking women can't do things that men can do," said Ruby.
"I also think water is wet," said Chiun, who wondered if there was a title for that, too. Maybe he was a "wettist."
It took Chiun thirty-two seconds to figure out what had happened that mysterious day when the men disappeared. He explained it to Remo in Korean.
"What he say?" Ruby asked.
"He said it was a slave raid," Remo said.
"Lucius a slave? Lucius never do a lick of work in his life. Neither did anybody else who's gone."
Chiun nodded. He spoke again in Korean.
"Tell him to stop talking funny," said Ruby.
"He says it's not funny. He says you're funny. He says you have funny eyes and a funny nose. He says if we produce a male child, it will have to overcome its ugliness. It will be the ugliest child in the world."
"I know you talk English, Chiun," said Ruby, "so why not talk right."
"You're ugly," said Chiun who was now happy. What he did not mention was that he planned the male child hopefully to be smarter than Remo because Ruby was. He liked her mind. He would match her mind with Remo's body and hopefully start another Master of Sinanju correctly. Without bad habits like talking back. He also didn't mention that he didn't really find Ruby ugly, but he noticed that when he abused her, Remo took her side. And perhaps if he abused her enough, he could drive Remo close enough to her to create the new heir of Sinanju.
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"Not only was this a slave raid, but I'm sure it was just a demonstration," Chiun said.
"You talk all right when you want to," said Ruby, still miffed at Chiun.
"She's not ugly. She's beautiful," Remo said. "No flesh," said Chiun.
"You like them fat like that butterball with hair on her forehead back in Korea," said Remo. "You ain't so good looking," Ruby told Chiun. "I am trying to carry on a civilized conversation with an ugly person and you descend, girl, to name calling. Name calling is especially vicious from an ugly woman. But I will not indulge you in your baseness. You have enough problems with a face like that." Remo took a half step closer to Ruby. Chiun was pleased.
"Look," said Remo. "Let's stop the name calling and get down to business. Why do you think it's a demonstration, Little Father?"
Chiun nodded. "Can you understand English, child?" he asked Ruby.
"Sure," she said suspiciously. "I was wondering if you could hear because of those peculiar muffs on the side of your head."
"Ain' nothin' on the side of my head. Those my ears," said Ruby.
"I thought so," said Chiun. "They were too ugly for earmuffs." And then he explained that it was customary in a slave raid before a war to take some of the people of a nation and demonstrate that they could be made into slaves easily. This made the enemy's army even more fearsome. "But do not worry," Chiun said. "Why not?" asked Ruby.
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"I have been thinking of it and the issue of you and Remo might be worthwhile."
"Dammit, we not talking about children," Ruby said. "We talking about Lucius. You want a child, you go to the welfare, they got hundreds of babies. They giving them away."
"But not Remo's. He owes me a son. One male child."
"You want to get it from me, you better be getting Lucius back," Ruby said. "Where we find him?"
"You said you know people all over this part of the country?" Chiun said.
"That's right."
He stopped at a map of the United States hanging on the wall behind a light piece of glass tinted yellow from Mrs. Gonzalez's pipe smoke.
"Where don't you have contacts?" asked Chiun.
"Hardly anyplace," said Ruby.
"Show me," Ghiun said.
"That's dumb," Ruby said.
"Show me," Chiun insisted.
He nodded as Ruby jabbed her finger at the map, pointing out states and cities and who her contacts were, as she looked for an area where she didn't have a friend or an acquaintance or someone who owed her a favor.
"What about there?" said Chiun, pointing to the map. "That is one spot you did not mention."
"The great piney woods? Shoot, nobody is there. Nobody goes in and nobody comes out."
Remo smiled at Chiun.
"Ain't nothin' there," said Ruby.
"Even Remo knows," said Chiun.
"Little Father, I don't like these comments
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about my intelligence," Remo said. "I may be the only sane one among the three of us and maybe that's why I appear dumb. I don't know. But it's reached its limit. I don't want to hear it again. Enough."
Ruby looked confused. Chiun looked wounded. What had he done? He had held his tongue remarkably, despite the fact that he was surrounded by a gravel-brained white and a black-and-white mixture in a coat of light chocolate with two wounded Brussels sprouts for ears. This he said and he wondered aloud about it all the way to the edge of the great piney woods in Western South Carolina.
He wondered why they were walking in forests like animals when the true civilized assassin worked in cities.
He wondered why, like pack animals, they trudged many miles following obvious footsteps. Signs of an army were unmistakable. The heavily trod ground. The new-made paths where hundreds of men went in one direction.
To Remo and Chiun, the signs were like neon lights saying: this way to armed camp.
Chiun never wanted to say Remo was dumb and he wanted Remo to understand that. It was just that some assassins were assassins and some went on television. It was not up to Chiun, the Master of Sinanju, to say that choosing worthless uncomfortable work was dumb, and choosing wealth and fame and honor was stupid. Chiun was not about to say that. And why was Chiun not about to say that?
"Enough," said Remo. "Are you going to work? I'm going to work. Are you going to talk
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or are you going to work?" They knew the camp was near because the access routes were more worn. It was like a swelling, on the same principle insurance men discovered when they found most auto accidents occurred within twenty-five miles of the home: It was not because people drove more carelessly near home; it was because they did most of their traveling within that distance.
"I am not saying anything," said Chiun.
"Good," said Remo.
The first guards were several paces away. It was a double man in a set position and long hours had already set into their eyes. And not expecting to see anything down the pine wood path on his 'oven-hot day, they were not about to spot the Master of the Sinanju and the American who was also of Sinanju-of it, but not from it-so much now of Sinanju that he was indistinguishable from that first assassin so many centuries ago who first set forth from his poor village to bring back sustenance by his killing skills.
It was a traditional Roman camp, square with the command somewhere off to the side, so that if the walls succumbed the center could be used as a formation area for what the Romans did best- maneuver with discipline. Centuries after men stopping using spears and swords and shields, camps were still laid out in squares with the open parade grounds in the center. It made no sense, but Masters of Sinanju knew that most men fought using things they did not understand and so fought badly.
Remo and Chiun were inside the square camp without much difficulty and had an officer over a
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desk with even less difficulty. The camp was almost deserted. The officer had a replica of a New Hampshire license plate on his desk. The license said "Live Free or Die." The officer was not all that committed to such a strict interpretation of his license plate. Reasonable men were always willing to compromise, especially when one of the reasonable men felt his arms about to leave his shoulders and he didn't feel like going through life, assuming he was going to live through this, with sockets instead of fingers. He also played the piano. He owed it to his piano playing to tell everything.