"As usual he was concerned about you," Anna replied. "But physically he seemed fine."
"Really?" Remo said. His face clouded. He felt as if he'd been through the wringer. And Chiun was over one hundred years old. "I'm never gonna live this down," he sighed.
Anna understood his meaning.
"If you are worried that you should be more resilient, you need not be," she said. "You forced yourself to fight the neural disruption while Chiun did not. In fact, I doubt he could have at his age. He succumbed quickly and his body shut down, thus sparing him the effects of prolonged exposure."
"Okay, I actually got the end of that," Remo said. "But what was that neural diddle-daddle you parked out front?"
"Your special training has rewritten your entire nervous system to a heightened degree," Anna explained. "You see, feel and hear better than the average human. For lack of a better explanation, your senses are tuned to the harmonics of your surroundings, absorbing the vibrations of your whole environment."
"If this is going somewhere that's gonna make my head hurt more, I'm lying down," Remo exhaled. He pulled his elbows away, dropping flat on his back.
"It might," Anna said somberly. Her face was grave. "The weapon gathers protons from its surroundings during its charging phase. When it is fired, the protons are expelled in a particle beam, the energy from which disrupts the environment within a limited radius. Normal people within this field feel it as no more than a dissipating electrical charge. Apparently you and Chiun are affected more greatly. And since it is being used continuously now, the air around it would be polluted to someone with your skills."
"Makes storming the Bastille kind of hairy for us."
"I would say next to impossible," Anna suggested. "After you collapsed it was all we could do to get the two of you to my car. Fortunately, Feyodov has limited forces in this town. We were able to get you to safety in this boardinghouse. However, they are doubtless looking for us. It is just a matter of time before we are found."
"Not a problem," Remo said. He pushed up to a sitting position. His strength was flooding back. "We're outta here."
Anna seemed surprised. "You are not leaving?"
"You bet, baby," Remo said, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. "It's time to call in the marines. Or the Air Force. That portable-beam whatsit must be near the city hall somewhere. I'll get on the horn to Smitty and have him send a couple of bombers to boil their bong water."
"The phones do not work," Anna argued. "Your communications network is failing." She jabbed a thumb to the corner where an old black-and-white Magnavox TV sat on an overturned wicker basket. "I saw on the television that the remaining satellites have been overwhelmed by the demand. It could take you hours to get through, if ever. The damage they will cause between now and then is incalculable."
Remo sighed deeply. "Swell," he groused. "Wait a minute. The phone's out but the TV's working?"
"Just a few channels," Anna explained. "I was watching the network that was running the stupid comedian fund-raiser."
"Home Ticket Booth is still on?" Remo frowned.
Anna shook her head. "That does not matter," she dismissed. "What matters is that they have been covering the events taking place in space."
"What do you mean?" Remo interrupted. "Covering as in 'covering the news' covering?"
"Yes," Anna said impatiently. "Is that not what they do?"
"No, actually," Remo answered. "They pretty much just do movies. One good one on Saturday night, and then six days and twenty-two hours of Earnest Licks a Lamppost broken up by a half hour Making of Earnest Licks a Lamppost documentary midweek."
"Well, they are doing news now and it is not good," Anna said. "Feyodov has let his idiot employers destroy the Mir space station." Her expression was deadly serious.
Remo's brow furrowed. "So what?" he said. "Didn't you people abandon that floating Tinker Toy?"
"Only for a time," Anna said grimly. "It is back in service now. Or rather was. There were six cosmonauts on or near Mir at the time of the attack. Two that were on a capsule scheduled to dock with the station are presumed dead, as is one who was in the crew quarters. The other three are trapped in the command module. It is unlikely that a rescue effort can be mounted by my country in time to save them."
Remo tapped a thoughtful finger on the threadbare edge of the mattress. "Don't wanna seem like the coldhearted bastard that I am, but whoop-de-do. You're the clowns who gave General Feel-you-up a fistful of rubles and a pat on the fanny before setting him loose on the white elephant table at the Cold War carnival."
Anna's eyes pleaded understanding. "Don't you see, Remo?" she asked. "This attack has come from America. My government knows that. It does not matter who is in control of the weapon or whether Washington even knows of its existence. Up until now the random attacks have largely been against American technology, since America dominates space. If my nation begins to suffer losses as yours already has, it will not long tolerate them."
"Hold the phone. Are you actually saying those borscht-slurpers in Moscow would nuke us because they let one of their own jerkwad generals swipe the only hunk of hardware they ever built that works?"
Still sitting on her stool, Anna placed her hands firmly on her knees.
"These are the same men in charge who for seventy years claimed the fruits of the Revolution were always around the next corner, this while people were starving in the streets and slave laborers were being forced to erect fences to keep the entire population from fleeing. You tell me, Remo, what they will do."
Remo's face sagged and his shoulders slumped. "This is all your fault, you know," he muttered. "If you just had the decency to stay dead like a normal person, none of this would be happening."
He had no way of knowing how true his words were. Eyes downcast, he studied the floor.
As he stared at the space between his loafers, Anna reached out absently, brushing a short lock of dark hair off his forehead. It was a casual movement, more an impulse stirred by memory than a conscious thing. The instant she realized what she was doing she pulled her hand away.
"I'm-" she started to say. Her jaw clenched. "You do not need this anymore." Flustered, she picked up the old porcelain bowl, taking it over to the bureau.
Remo watched her for an uncomfortable moment. Although just shy of her fortieth birthday, she looked much the same as she had when he'd known her. Her hair was a little shorter, and there was a faint crinkling at the edges of her eyes. But her beauty was timeless.
"I'm not wearing a ring because I never got married," he announced all at once. His tone was soft. Anna had wrung out the facecloth and was hanging it over the lava lamp to dry.
"Really?" she said, feigning bland disinterest. "I had assumed there was some Sinanju rule forbidding you from wearing jewelry."
"Actually, there is," Remo admitted. "Throws off the body's natural balance. Master Lom learned that the hard way when he accidentally strangled himself with his own necklace during an exhibition in front of Nebuchadrezzar." Still sitting at the edge of the mattress, he shrugged. "Anyway, I figured you should know about that whole marriage thing."
She had her back to him. When he finished speaking, he saw her shoulders sink. "There is something you should know, as well," she said quietly. She did not turn.
Her deeply serious tone instantly sent up a red flag.
He suddenly had a mental image of a little runny-nosed version of himself tearing around some Russian playground bending the monkey bars in his bare hands and pulling all the girls' pigtails.
"I didn't knock you up, did I?" he asked worriedly.
"No," Anna said somberly.
"Whew," Remo exhaled. "Dodged a bullet there."
At this stage in his life, Remo had already had more than his fill of those sorts of surprises. "Remo, what I am about to tell you directly violates a standing order from the highest levels of the Kremlin. I am risking my life by divulging this information, but it is necessary for you to know so that you understand the urgency of the situation here. Before it was brought here, the weapon Feyodov stole was test fired. It was only one time and it was many years ago." She finally turned to face him, "My government is responsible for the destruction of the space shuttle Challenger."