Remo straightened. "Well, they wasted him without wasting any time. Serves him right, too. Murdering his own men like that."
The Master of Sinanju moved to the point under the vertical length of pipe. His wise old face frowned tightly.
"It is time to see what lies above," he said firmly.
"Want me to go first?" Remo offered.
"No," said Chiun, making a fist like a block of old bone and punching a dent at the level of his head. He reached up and made another off to one side.
Then, leaping high so that one sandaled toe caught the lowermost dent and the other the next one up, the Master of Sinanju quickly created a ladder of indentations, climbing as he went.
Remo followed. He was halfway up when he heard a metallic screech.
Past his head came a ball of twisted steel.
"What was that?" he called up.
"An inconvenient propeller."
"Must be part of a pneumatic system," Remo said, continuing on. Unlike Chiun, Remo lacked the long fingernails of the traditional Sinanju master. He had to knock deeper holes here and there.
Near the top, Chiun's voice came, high and squeaky.
"Remo! Remo!"
"Yeah?"
"I know where we are!" "Where?" "Home! We are home!" "Huh?"
Chapter 15
"Director, I have bad news."
"What is it now?" demanded the petulant, chilly voice.
"The two unfriendlies are topside."
The Director looked at his famous smiling watch. "We're two hours from opening. That should be enough time to erase them from the drawing board."
"Instructions?"
"Send the Wolf Pack after them."
"At once, Director."
"And have a mop-up team on standby to take care of the damned blood. I want topside to sparkle. And turn up the heat. I'm freezing in here."
"Yes, Director."
"Wolf Pack, you are go for the hunt."
Chapter 16
Warily, Remo emerged from the disposal pipe, not knowing what to expect.
A section of the pipe, an elbow, had been knocked aside by the Master of Sinanju. Remo found himself staring into another horizontal stretch.
He walked around it and saw that he was in a semidark concrete bunker, and that the final length of pipe was jutting from a giant piece of machinery studded with air-compressors.
"I was right." he said. "This is a giant pneumatic tube. That means it's like a vacuum in reverse."
Then he noticed the Master of Sinanju standing at a window, staring out with a pleased expression on his face. Chiun was standing at his full height now, his chin uptilted slightly, like an emperor surveying his domain.
"This doesn't look like any home I've ever seen," Remo said, approaching the window.
The Master of Sinanju stepped aside. "Open your benighted eyes to their fullest then," he said proudly.
Remo peered out the window. The expression on his face was an odd mixture of curiosity and bafflement.
He saw in the near distance the tessellated ramparts and spindly towers of a castle.
The curiosity drained from his face as the bafflement took over. His mouth dropped open. His deep-set eyes seemed to crawl out of their enshadowed orbits. He blinked. And blinked again.
No matter what he did, the castle was still there.
"What the hell?"
"Is it not magnificent?" Chiun asked, beaming.
"Huh?" Remo gulped.
"That is where we will live," added Chiun. He clapped happy hands together. "It is what I have always wanted."
"No doubt there," Remo growled, "but what is it?"
Chiun's tiny mouth went round. "You do not recognize this place?" he squeaked. "You, a child of this generous nation?"
"It looks familiar, sure," Remo admitted. "But I can't place it. I was expecting an orange grove."
"Come. Perhaps this wondrous place which Harold the Munificent has granted to the House of Sinanju contains such things."
The Master of Sinanju floated to a closed door.
Remo followed. "Smith gave you this?" he asked, small-voiced.
"It was my final demand, and he agreed to meet it."
Remo Williams was so befuddled by the disorienting experience of escaping an underground military installation, only to find above it a place Chiun called home, that he couldn't think of any comeback. He let his brain shift into neutral and went with the flow.
Chiun opened the door, and the building flooded with too-bright sunlight. They passed through and out into an immaculately landscaped fairyland that Remo instantly recognized.
"Oh my God!" he said.
Chiun drew in a long breath. "Smell, Remo. Orange blossoms." He beamed. "Here, all wishes come true."
"This is Beasley World!" Remo said, aghast.
"Yes," said Chiun happily.
"Beasley World. The Beasley World."
"Yes!"
"Somebody built a secret military installation under Beasley World!" Remo said, his voice incredulous.
"A minor annoyance which we will soon remedy," Chiun said.
Remo looked around.
The summit of Star Mountain reared up in the early-morning sun, the shadows of fast-moving clouds dappling it.
They were standing near an artificial pool. It appeared to be empty. At the far end of a long whitecobbled walk, past colorful children's rides, loomed Sorcerer's Castle, emblem of "the Enchanted Village," as Beasley World-the greatest theme park in the universe-was sometimes called.
"This is a dream," Remo muttered.
"A wonderful dream," Chiun said.
"A bad dream," Remo said. "A nightmare."
Chiun frowned. "What is wrong?"
"We can't live here. It's wide open!"
"The sun will be good for you, Remo. You look pale." The Master of Sinanju began to walk, his merry hazel eyes darting this way and that, his perfect white teeth dazzling in his tiny mouth.
Remo followed. "No, I mean this is a public place. Millions of people come through the gate every year."
Chiun shrugged unconcernedly. "I have left them Beasleyland. They may go there instead."
Remo's incredulous eyes took in an Alice-in-Wonderland panorama that was familiar to children throughout the entire world.
"I can't believe Smith gave this place to you."
"Why not? I deserve it-even if you do not."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. It isn't Smith's to give. One of the biggest corporations in the world owns all this. And from what I hear their lawyers are real piranha."
"Let them plotz," Chiun said disdainfully.
Remo looked back. The building they had just left was some kind of disguised waste-disposal collection center. The walls were covered with open-mouthed cartoon faces. The mouths were round holes, and beside one of them was a pair of covered plastic barrels. The covers were adorned with puppet heads.
"That pipe we came through was part of the trash-disposal system for this place," Remo decided aloud.
"It is very efficient," Chiun agreed. "I hereby make you Lord High Sanitation Engineer of Assassin's World."
"Assassin's World?"
"The old name needs updating."
"You weren't listening to what I said," Remo said tightly.
"What else is new?" Chiun returned carelessly.
"That means the military guys are in cahoots with the Beasley Company."
Chiun turned, his mouth going prim. "Remo! Such blasphemy! Was this man Beasley not one of your childhood heroes?"
"Sure. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Uncle Sam Beasley would never go against the wishes of Emperor Smith."
"He never heard of Smith. Besides, he's dead."
"Nonsense."
"He died back in the sixties. Everybody knows that."
"Humph," sniffed Chiun, resuming his promenade. "If this is so, then who draws the wonderful cartoons bearing his illustrious name?"
"A bunch of artists, that's who. Uncle Sam never drew the cartoons himself."