They had a big yellow crane at the water's edge, where workmen were lashing lines to the last submerged car. The crane strained upward, and with a sucking sound the coach came up out of the water, gushing noisy strings of water from every joint and broken window.
They let it hang over the water until it finished draining. All eyes were on this scene. Lights were directed onto the coach, and it was possible to see the interior through the windows. See the tangle of humanity that floated in the sinking water as in a fishbowl that was leaking.
As the water level fell, the bodies settled down to the bottom, moving aimlessly and involuntarily like clumps of dead jellyfish.
Remo checked through the salvage debris that was stacked here and there. Piles of it lay unattended. Baggage. Briefcases. Purses. Knapsacks. Articles of clothing. Even toys.
Remo found Harold Smith's briefcase in the second pile he picked through. There was no mistaking it. Once it had been tan, but decades of wear had aged the skin and darkened it to the hue of an old saddle.
Remo claimed it, looked around to make sure he wasn't seen and, satisfied, started back for the Dragoon.
The case sloshed in his hands, drooling malodorous water. It was heavier than normal but grew lighter with each step.
Far ahead a sound pierced the night.
"Aiiee!"
Remo knew that sound. It was Chiun's familiar cry of anguish, only it had a weird, horror-struck quality now.
Clutching the briefcase, Remo broke into a run. His feet floated across the sand and into brush. From there, he sprinted through the trees. He had no eyes for anything along the way, counting on his ears to take him to the site of the anguished wail.
Whatever it was, Chiun was in trouble.
Deep trouble.
CHIUN BURST OUT of the trees before Remo could reach the exact spot.
The Master of Sinanju clutched one hand. It was wrapped tightly in the wide sleeve of his kimono as if injured.
"Chiun! What is it? What's going on?"
"I am wounded," he said in a thin, disbelieving voice.
Remo dropped the briefcase. "What!"
Chiun danced in place. "I am maimed. I am undone."
"Let me see it. Let me see it."
Chiun recoiled, one hand clutching his muffled wrist. "No, Remo. It is too horrible. The sight will drive you mad."
"I can take it, Chiun. Just let me see it."
Visions of a bleeding wrist stump jumped into Remo's head.
Chiun looked down at his feet. "Where is it?"
"Where is what?"
"We must find it. Perhaps the surgeons of this land can reattach it."
"God, no," said Remo, hearing his worst fears confirmed.
"Do not stand there like a dunderhead. Help me find it."
"Okay. Okay. Where did it fall?"
"Back there." Chiun pointed into the forest with his uninjured hand. The indicating nail gleamed like a blade of polished bone.
Remo swept past the Master of Sinanju, eyes scanning the fir needles. He spotted footprints that looked like Chiun's, but that couldn't be. The Master of Sinanju didn't leave footprints.
"I don't see it here," Remo called hack anxiously.
"Be careful where you step. Do not break it."
"Your hand?"
Chiun's voice grew querulous. "Hand? What are you babbling about, Remo?"
Remo looked up. "I'm looking for your hand-aren't I?"
"No. My hand is still attached to my wrist, as it should be."
And with a nervous flourish Chiun shook off the silk sleeve, exposing his right hand.
Remo looked. Chiun's right hand was a tense fist like a bony mallet carved from aged ivory.
"I don't get it. What happened to you?"
Chiun's face stiffened to a waxen mask. "I cannot bring myself to say."
"Come on," Remo said, approaching. "It can't be that bad. Let me see."
Chiun averted his face, offering his tightly closed fist to his pupil.
Remo took it carefully. He counted the fingers. All four looked intact. The thumb was still there, too.
Carefully Remo unbent them, opening the Master of Sinanju's fist.
"Tell me it is not as bad as it seemed in the first anguished moment of pain," Chiun moaned.
"I don't see anything," Remo said slowly.
"The longest finger. Tell me it is whole."
"It is."
"And the nail?"
"Yeah, it's- Wait a minute. It's gone."
Chiun threw a thin wrist across his forehead. "I am undone. I am shamed. I have been humiliated."
"What the hell happened?"
Chiun dragged his eyes back to his hand. They fell on the stump that was his fingernail. It projected slightly past the finger's tip, but at a slanting angle, not tapered to a point like the rest.
"It will take years to renew," he wailed.
"Well, months anyway," said Remo. "But what happened, Chiun?"
"I cannot say."
"Why not?"
"My humiliation is too great. Do not force the words from my lips. Just find the member that was once part of me."
"Okay," Remo said, relaxing slightly now that he knew Chiun hadn't really been maimed. "Give me a sec."
He found the nail easily enough now that he knew what he was looking for. It lay on the ground, clearly. visible to Remo's Sinanju-trained eyes. In the moonlight it looked strangely white, as if dead.
Remo brought it back to the Master of Sinanju, cupped in one hand.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Wrap in it warm milk," said Chiun.
"That only works with teeth," Remo said.
Chiun hovered over the cupped artifact. "Is there no hope for it, then?"
"Maybe it can be welded back on, but I doubt it."
"I cannot bear the sight of it, detached as it is."
"Maybe Super Glue would work," said Remo.
"I will not stoop to artificial nails to hide my shame. Remo, do the necessary duty for me. I beseech you."
"Do what?"
"Bury the poor thing."
"Bury a fingernail?"
"It is the only correct thing to do."
"We can do that later. Mind explaining how you managed to break this nail?"
"It is a sign that I am growing old and infirm. My Knives of Eternity have grown fragile. Never has this happened before. There is no other explanation. Not even a ronin could accomplish this on his own."
"A what?"
"If you had listened to me, this would not have happened."
"Don't blame this on me. I had to recover Smith's briefcase, okay? I didn't want a maimed rescue worker on my conscience."
"A maimed teacher is acceptable, however?"
"I didn't maim you."
"I told you Japanese were behind this tragedy, but you did not listen."
"Japanese! Where do you get that?"
In the distance a familiar rumble and growling shook the darkness.
Remo turned. "Isn't that-?"
Chiun puffed out his cheeks. "The fiend! To add insult to injury, he is stealing my dragon!"
Remo flashed toward the sound. He broke from the trees in time to see the scarlet Dragoon APC rumbling down the road.
He started after it but Chiun's voice stopped him like a cracking whip. "Remo. Come back. You do not know what you face."
"A car thief. Big freaking deal," said Remo.
Abruptly the Master of Sinanju was in front of him. He blocked the way, his face stiff and cold. "I will not risk your humiliation, too. Your honor must be unsullied if mine is to be avenged."
"What are you talking about?"
The Dragoon continued rumbling away. Remo tensed.
"Stay. I will explain."
His fists clenched tight, Remo wavered between obedience and pursuit. Ultimately obedience won. He let the air escape his lungs and followed Chiun's beckoning finger back into the dense forest of fir trees.
"You see these tracks?" Chiun said coldly.
"Looks like sandal prints."
"They are not," snapped Chiun, who then led him to a scarred fir tree.