He saw Remo standing over him, no expression on his sharply angled face, not breathing hard, not even sweating.
He closed his eyes to blot out the sight of Remo's face, but he heard Remo's voice say: "Nice race, junior. I guess I'm just one step better than you."
Remo strolled back to the bench on the infield where he found Chiun frowning at him.
"What's wrong now? I did what you said, didn't I?"
"Yes, but you did not win."
"I had something else on my mind. Besides, I only had to finish third to get to Moscow. You said save the good stuff for the Games."
"But I didn't tell you to embarrass me."
Remo started to answer, then thought better of it. Chiun would have his say, no matter what.
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"You will have to redeem me in Moscow," Chiun said. "There you can make me look like the greatest of all trainers. I will be approached to reveal my great secrets for making a lump like you into a runner. They will ask me to do television guest shots and I will make much money for my village. Maybe I will even get my own show."
"Heeeeeeeeeeere's Chiun," said Remo.
Chiun did not smile. "All this will happen in Moscow where you will atone for shaming me today."
Remo bowed gravely and said: "As you wish, Little Father."
Up in the stands, Vincent Josephs was not pleased.
"That's your super runner?" he asked Mills. "He was never in the race."
Wally Mills thought for a moment before replying. Should he tell Josephs what he thought he saw? That this Remo was busy pulling that other runner across the finish line? No. He couldn't tell him that. It was so unbelievable, he wasn't sure he believed it himself. Instead he said, "You're mistaken, Mr. Josephs. He was where he wanted to be every step of the way. He wasn't even trying for some reason, but he made sure to qualify. Did you see him close?"
Josephs conceded to himself that Mills had a point. The guy did close fast to get up for third place. Of course, the blond guy closed fast too, but he was a loser, so ignore him. Well, why not? It wouldn't do any harm to go down and talk to this Remo, convince him to sign hi advance of the Olympics just hi case he did win something in Russia.
"Maybe I'll go down and talk to him, just so this trip won't be a total waste of tune," Josephs said.
"I'll go with you," Mills said.
They made their way down to the field, hoping to catch Remo before he left,
"Hey, pal," Josephs called. "You with the t-shirt."
Remo turned, saw Josephs, and did not like what
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he saw. He saw a big cigar, a couple of flashy rings, tinted eyeglasses, a well-tailored three-piece suit that couldn't hide a fat, soft body, and a loud mouth.
"What do you want?"
"You run pretty good, pal," Josephs said. "My name's Vincent Josephs. You hear of me?"
"No," Remo said.
Josephs frowned. Well, it didn't matter. Someday the whole world would have heard of him.
"Listen, buddy, you and me might be able to make some money. Together, you know. Endorsements and things. I mean, you run pretty good in those dungarees and-"
"Chinos," Remo said. "I don't wear dungarees."
"Yeah, chinos. And loafers. Maybe you could run really fast if you wore shorts and running shoes."
"Can't," Remo told him, as he turned and walked away with Chiun. He heard the pest padding up heavily behind him.
"Why can't you?" Josephs asked him.
"It's against my beliefs to flaunt my flesh."
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Look, I don't need a promoter or an agent, thank you."
"Excuse me, what's your name, Remo, but you're wrong. You need me to make a bundle."
Chiun stopped and turned and so did Remo. Chiun shook his head. "All he needs is me," he said.
"You?" Josephs laughed and turned back to Remo. "You and me together, kid, we can do it. I'll package you and-"
"If you don't get out of here, I'll package you," Remo said.
"Calm down, kid," Josephs said, gesturing with his hands. "If you want to keep the old fella, keep him. He can do your laundry or something."
"You know, you talk too much," Remo said. He asked Chiun, "Don't you think he talks too much?"
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"Not anymore," Chiun said. Neither Josephs nor Mills sat Chiun's hand move. Only Remo's eyes could follow the motion. But suddenly Josephs felt a great pressure on his throat.
Josephs opened his mouth to cry out but no sound would come. His eyes bulged as he tried to speak but he could make no sound.
"What-what happened?" asked Mills.
"I paralyzed his vocal cords. His chatter was beginning to offend me," Chiun said.
Josephs was clutching at his throat, trying to force sound, any kind of sound, but nothing came out.
"Will he stay that way?" Mills asked.
Chiun answered blandly, "It depends on how much damage I did. I only meant it to be a temporary silencing, but his constant noise might have thrown my concentration off."
Remo shook his head at Mills. Nothing could disturb Chiun's concentration. "Temporary," Remo said. "Just temporary. Take him somewhere and tell him to relax. He'll be shooting off his mouth again in no time."
"All right, Mr. Black," said Mills. "I'll do that." He took Josephs by the elbow and led him away. Josephs still held his throat.
"I think we should go back to the hotel and let the emperor know you were semi-successful today even if you did disgrace me," Chiun said.
"You go tell him that if you want," Remo said. "I'm going to hang around and watch some of the other athletes for a while."
"Very well. But remember curfew," Chiun said.
"Yes, Little Trainer," said Remo.
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CHAPTER SIX
In an arena filled with female gymnasts, anyone with a bosom would have been a standout, but the woman Remo was watching would have stood out in any company. She was in her early twenties and stood five-foot-five and weighed 120 pounds. This made her bigger, heavier and older than any other female competitor in the gym. And more beautiful. Her dark brown hair would have fallen to mid-back if it had not been tied up in a bun, her chin was square, and her cheekbones high. Her lips were full and her teeth even and white against the light coppery tan of her skin. Her eyes, he saw when she turned her head his way, were a soft, wet brown. She had the exquisitely shaped legs of a gymnast without the bulging lumpy muscle mass.
Remo saw her as he strolled around the gymnasium and he stopped to watch. Even as he did, he reflected that this was curious behavior on his part. Among the lessons that Chiun had taught him as part of the wisdom of Sinanju had been a series of twenty-six steps for lovemaking, twenty-six steps to bring a woman to indescribable ecstasy. Remo had rarely found a woman who could go past thirteen and generally he didn't care. When the risk of failing at sex had been taken out of it, the fun went too. And so, seemingly, did the urge. Until this young woman. Remo wanted to meet her. There was something about her.
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He was impressed, too, when he watched her perform on the balance beam, the four-inch-wide piece of wood on which women did ballet and acrobatics. Her size was a disadvantage she would have to overcome, but she was good and Remo saw the potential for more than just good. She could be trained.
She finished her routine on the beam with a twisting somersault dismount, grabbed a towel and ran to the edge of the gym floor, where she stood anxiously looking toward the scorers' table. Remo stepped alongside her.