"My son thought you so, and so you were," Chiun said.
The figure turned slowly to him. The black hood hung low over eyes as cold as steel.
"Did you not think I was dead, as well?"
Chiun stomped his foot. "That does not matter," he insisted. "You were dishonest to make him believe you no longer lived. And now-at the most precarious time of his Masterhood-you return. Remo cannot afford you as a distraction. You will go. Now and forever. Leave this land and never return."
"You stop me only to order me to go?"
"Pah!" Chiun waved. "You were not going anywhere. You are on some fool errand for your Kremlin lords. Now that Remo has dispatched your men, you would be forced to lurch and blunder around yourself. I will not allow your path to cross my son's. I tell you now, leave not only this province, but this nation, lest you bear the wrath of the Master of Sinanju."
Two small hands reached up and the hood finally came down, revealing a short crop of honey-blond hair and a familiar high-cheekboned face.
"I cannot go. Not yet."
Chiun's expression began to harden when his sensitive ears suddenly detected swift footfalls behind him. With flashing hands, he grabbed for the door.
One bony hand clutched the handle, the other held firm to the cloaked figure's bicep when Remo came exploding from the alley mouth an instant later. The younger Master of Sinanju's eyes darkened when he spied his teacher.
"I've been looking all over for you," Remo groused. "Next time you badger me into snuffing out a Russian hit squad, I'd appreciate it if you did at least two seconds of actual work before punching off the clock for your afternoon rice break." Face still a scowl, he glanced at the figure Chiun was manhandling into the car. "Hiya," he added.
He looked momentarily back to Chiun. Then his face fell.
For an instant the world stood still. Remo's head snapped back around.
When his eyes alighted once more on the stranger's face, anything Remo might have wanted to say froze in his throat.
Eyes growing wide in shock, his jaw dropped open. He seemed desperate to speak, but could not. He looked the figure up, then down.
Remo wheeled on Chiun. The Master of Sinanju's wrinkled countenance was pinched into an unhappy knot.
"Chiun?" Remo asked, bewildered.
"Go back to the center of town and wait for me," the old man advised darkly. "No good can come of this, my son."
Remo spun back to the Institute director. "This can't be," he insisted.
With a frustrated hiss, the old Korean released his grip on the head of Russia's secret Institute. "Your eyes do not deceive," the Master of Sinanju insisted angrily.
The Russian agent nodded gentle agreement. There seemed a hint of shame in the movement.
It was almost too much for Remo to take. A swirl of emotion, confusion, amazement, spiraled around him in a crazed, impossible kaleidoscope. For what seemed an infinite moment, he lost all voice, all reason. When he finally caught up with his swirling thoughts, it was as if the one word he spoke echoed up a ten-year-old tunnel that led to the depths of his very soul.
"Anna?" Remo Williams asked. His voice was small and faraway.
And with equal emotion, buried under a practiced veneer of cold rationality, Anna Chutesov nodded sharply.
Chapter 15
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. It was Remo who finally broke the silence. "You're dead," he insisted.
"Obviously not," Anna replied. She shot an uncomfortable glance at the Master of Sinanju.
"Oh, no," Remo snapped. "No. You're not gonna worm out of this one. I saw you dead."
"Impossible," Anna said. "What you should ask yourself is, did you see me die?"
Remo opened his mouth to speak, his finger raised authoritatively. Sudden memory made him hesitate. "You see?" Anna said, nodding. "You remember. You did not see me die, nor could you have, because it is apparent that I did not."
"A situation easily remedied," offered the Master of Sinanju thinly.
"Back off, Chiun," Remo snapped. He was regaining his senses. The shock of seeing Anna Chutesov after so many years was worse than any physical blow. "But Mr. Gordons killed you," he said to Anna, some of the fight draining from him. "He was wearing your face when I kicked his mechanical ass years ago."
"Gordons," Anna nodded. "The android that was programmed by your space agency to take any form that would aid in its survival. He looked like me, you say?"
"He was you by way of Xerox and Lockheed-Martin," Remo said. "But, yeah, he looked like you when we zapped him."
"I suspected as much," Anna said, pleased with her deduction. "It determined that mine was a form that would aid its survival. It hoped to confuse you, a plan that I gather failed, given the fact that you both still live."
"Maybe it didn't fail," Remo said, suddenly cautious. "I took out its central processor." He took a step back.
"You did not," Chiun sniffed. "It was I who slew the mandroid that time."
"No, it was the amusement park that time, Little Father," Remo said. With narrowed eyes he studied Anna.
"I know where it was," Chiun said haughtily. "And we were not amused."
"No matter which one of us whacked the robot that time, we still met up with him twice. since then," Remo pointed out. "He's like the wind-up version of Freddy Krueger. He keeps coming back with a new Roman numeral tacked to his caboose. Who's to say this isn't him again?"
Chiun shook his head. "The machine man is dead," he said firmly.
"Yes, Remo," Anna begged. "Do not complicate this any further. I tried to shoot Gordons. When that had no effect, I determined that there was only one prudent course of action available to me."
"Which was?"
Anna shrugged. "I ran."
"And Gordons didn't follow?" Remo said skeptically.
"You were its enemy, not me," Anna said logically. "After I fled, it must have decided that since we were allies, it would muddy the waters by transforming itself into my likeness." She nodded appreciatively. "A strategy that I would probably take under the same circumstances."
"My point exactly," Remo said. "How do I know you're not wearing a set of tin-plated long johns under that Captain Marvel cape?"
Anna considered but a moment. When she lunged at Remo an instant later, he braced for an attack. He arrested the forward lethal movement of his own hand when-instead of striking him-Anna grabbed him by the shoulders and planted her lips firmly on his.
Remo tensed. After a few seconds he relaxed. A moment later his arms fell limp at his sides. Beside them the Master of Sinanju's wrinkled face tightened into a tangle of disgust.
"Stop that this instant," he snapped. "I endured my fill of this vulgar exhibitionism back when I did not have a heart condition." Though they were harsh, there was a worried undertone to his words.
Anna and Remo unlocked lips. Despite her best efforts, the Russian agent's pale cheeks were flushed.
"Okay, no android kisses like that," Remo admitted.
Embarrassed by her lack of physical control, Anna looked down, brushing wrinkles from her long, dark cloak.
"I am sorry to hear about your heart problem," she muttered to Chiun.
"He doesn't have anything wrong with his heart," Remo said. He was still staring at Anna in disbelief.
"Yes, I do, O heartless one," Chiun disagreed. "And it is aggravated by proximity to aging Russian harlots. Go this instant," he instructed Anna, "lest your presence alone causes me to drop dead on this very street corner."
He pulled open Anna's car door. Remo slapped it shut.
"A clone," Remo announced. "Maybe the Russians grew another you in a test tube."
"Now you are being ridiculous." Anna scowled.
"Yes," Chiun agreed. "Russia has always produced more than sufficient numbers of prostitutes without having to resort to unholy means."