"I guess all of us carry our histories like crosses and our destinies like fools. But occasionally, we must succumb to logic. And the logic of our situation is that our love would destroy us. If we could only shake our duties like old dust. But we cannot. Mad dogs yet roam the world and for those we love, we must search them out, fighting all the time to keep our humanity despite the pressures to fight dogs like dogs.
"We gave each other only an hour and a promise. Let us cherish that hour in the small places which keep us kind. You are kind and good and really very gentle. Do not let your enemies ever destroy that, darling. For as surely as the Jordan flows, we shall, if we maintain that goodness, meet again in that morning that never ends. This is our promise that we will keep. I love you, Remo.
"Deborah."
Well, shit. That's a woman for you. Of course, she loved him. How else could she call him kind and good and gentle? The utter silliness of it all. Remo read the letter again and felt very good. Then he tore it up, because preventions were precautions, and lit the pieces with a match. She was obviously finishing her assignment, and Remo would, as he painfully knew, only be in the way of it. So the simple thing was to go to Dayton, and then buy a ticket to Chicago, and there find someone who vaguely looks like you and who has a passport. Then kindly, good and gentle Remo Williams would work something on the poor bastard, and be out of the country and headed toward Israel and that town in the Negev.
He would go there, find her parents, and wait. He would tell her parents to mention some phrase from the note. And she would come running home. CURE would find him though. Well, he'd work something out. All this think and counter-think had been a bother anyway. Hell, maybe he'd just find her now and they would both go somewhere.
Remo watched the last scrap of paper burn and, leaving the cottage, accidentally bumped into the door. To hell with it. Everyone bumped into doors.
He was tired now, very tired. The sun drained him and the walking drained him. He stumbled on the walk. He had pressed too hard too long and now he was running down. He was sweating now, for real. Real sweat from the afternoon heat. He stumbled again.
He looked up and saw Brewster's office. He would rest there awhile and then leave. Stephanie was at the door, but he didn't feel like talking. He tried to pat her on the head. But inexplicably his hand missed and he fell full-length on the polar bear rug. He crawled to the couch, and pulled himself up onto it. In the cool of the air conditioner he drifted off. Out.
Then there was the sleep. It was a deep, unconscious leaving. And there were dreams.
Chiun, his aged Korean instructor, saying: "Do not pass this point. Do not pass this point. Do not pass this point."
And other voices, Oriental voices. And Chiun was telling the other voices that he had not passed the point yet, so they must stand back. And Chiun wore black robes and a black headband and he was motioning that Remo should go to his special room and stay there. He should stay there until everything was all right. Chiun would sit with him. Remo had just worked too hard and too long. Remo should go into the room and Chiun would sit with him and talk to him.
And since he wasn't doing anything important at the moment other than dying, Remo decided to go into the room where Chiun was waiting. He could always die. That was Chiun talking. Funny, he thought he had been saying that. But it was Chiun saying that. Remo could die later if he wished. He could die any time he wanted. Promise? Yes. Chiun promised.
So Remo went. It was very cold in the room and Chiun looked very mean and stern. He was not here to punish Remo but to save him. But you promised I could die?
You cannot die.
I want to die.
You may not. There are things you must do because your life is precious.
Leave me alone. I want to die. You promised.
But you are in the room now, Remo, and here you are
not permitted to die.
You're a liar.
Yes, I lied to you. I hurt you.
Yes, you do.
I will hurt you more. For I am in this room with you and I am going to hurt you more. You will feel great pain.
I do not want to hurt.
Listen. You are dying. But I will not let you die, Remo. I prepared this room so that you should not die. That is why together we prepared this room. Your room, Remo. It holds your youth. Without the miracle of rest, you have lived a lifetime in three months. You are an old man, Remo. All that you took by your will and your effort has been taken back because you used it too long. But watch. We will do a trick. Come with me and do the trick. See the fire. It is hot. Hot. We will run through the fire. The trick is the fire. Come. Yes, it hurts, but come. I will go with you. Now. Into the fire.
And he was roasting alive, in incredible, flashing pain, that seared his flesh. The flames burned his feet and licked at his legs, then engulfed his entire body in a whooshing roar.
And Remo Williams was standing, yelling in the air-conditioned office and little Stephanie Brewster was beside him. The room smelled faintly of jasmine and the chill made Remo shake. Was it his imagination, the residue of the dream, or did he smell burning flesh?
Remo rubbed his forehead, and felt something crumble over his eyes. It was charred hair on his eyebrows, curled white ashes that powdered in his fingers.
Stephanie lost her terror and began clapping. "Oh, do that again. Do it again. Wonderful."
"What?," asked Remo.
"I didn't know you did magic."
"What magic?"
"You just lay down and shut your eyes and then you lit up almost like a light bulb. Oh, it was stellar. Stellar. Very unusual. That's redundant. Something isn't very unusual. It's unusual."
"How long was I here?"
"Well, I didn't have my stop watch. But I would guess two or three minutes. You looked very tired when you came in, and then you fell, and your hands were cold, and I thought you were having a coronary. But I didn't know you did magic."
"Yeah, kid. That's the biz. Look. I'm late for an appointment. Tell your dad that I'm going on vacation and I may not be back because the forum is too rough for me. Okay?"
"I'll write it down," said Stephanie. With her awkward six-year-old hands, she manoeuvred a pencil over several pieces of note paper, in a handwriting reminiscent of someone designing a rope.
"I paraphrased," she explained, starting on the first page which contained half a word. "Feelings of inadequacy impel Remo Pelham's resignation."
"You've got it, sweets."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" And Remo Williams kissed Stephanie Brewster goodbye and she crinkled her nose, explaining that his face was hot.
"That's the biz, kid," Remo said with lightness of heart, and he left with his very dry clothes crackling around him toward his appointment hi Dayton. Wait hi Israel for an agent to come home? Remo chuckled. He never would have made it out of Chicago. Well, senility is senility.
His body hurt, like a very bad sunburn, but it was a good hurt. He was breathing well and moving well and relaxed and alive. He wished Deborah all the best and assumed she would be well because, after all, she was very lucky. She would have died on Deuteronomy. That's the biz.
Still, he felt a little desire to read the note again, just once more. But it had gone up in flames and just as well. He would relax, go out of his head in Dayton, fornicate a bit, and maybe start slow in a week or two. Perhaps they would move Chiun out to him for one of the training programs. He would probably need that.