"You might be a little happier to see me, Little Father," Remo groused, annoyed that his teacher seemed more interested in the director than in him. "We've hardly spoken twice in the past two months."
"And yet you still take the time to try to blow me up."
He persisted in ignoring Remo. All at once, a dejected expression settled on his parchment face. When Remo looked, he saw that Tortilli and Duggal were walking away. Only when they vanished around a distant corner did Chiun look at Remo. "Oh, you're back," Remo deadpanned.
"Do not be childish," Chiun sniffed. Remo didn't want a repeat of the scene back at the New York lot. The truth was, it felt good to be with Chiun again. Even if the old Korean was distracted.
"They've given you a costume change, I see," Remo said more lightly, nodding to Chiun's kimono.
"The genius Tortilli told me that my uniform did not look authentic," Chiun replied.
Remo's eyes went flat. "The what Tortilli?"
"The genius director of my film." Just talking about Quintly Tortilli seemed to relax the Master of Sinanju. A smile kissed his vellum lips. "You do not know what I have been through with the buffoon who had been overseeing this project. Another day and he would have had my hero dangling from the Statue of Liberty or straddling a tree trunk. But now that is all over." He pitched his voice low. "The genius Tortilli has told me that the camera loves me. He insists the eye is drawn to me even without exotic apparel."
"Okay, let's put that whopper aside for one minute," Remo said. "What's with all this genius crapola?"
"That is how he is referred to by his peers," the Master of Sinanju said, nodding sagely. "They do not speak his name without uttering his honorific."
"Little Father, according to Hollywood people, everyone in town is a genius."
"Ah, but it is the way they intone the word when they apply it to my director," Chiun explained. "They speak the word with conviction."
"Unless you count Robert Downey Jr., there are no convictions in Hollywood, Little Father," Remo insisted. "Tortilli made a movie five or six years ago that all the critics loved but was a piece of crap, and since then he's been coasting on his name."
The Master of Sinanju snapped alert. "Listen, Remo!" he announced, suddenly intensely worried. Bony fingers gripped his pupil's forearm.
Remo was instantly alarmed. "What?" he asked, anxious.
Worried about another bombing attempt, he broadened his normal auditory range, expanding beyond the immediate vicinity. The soundproofing of the building limited his scope, but as far as he could hear there was nothing unusual out on the farther lot.
"I don't hear anything," he whispered after a moment.
Chiun brought a slender finger to his lips. "It is there," he hissed. "The Leviathan awakes. Hark! It is a fearsome green beast, Remo. The Dragon of Jealousy."
Smiling placidly, he released Remo's arm. "That's not very damn funny," Remo complained.
"I agree," Chiun said, smile unwavering. "Your enviousness of the genius Tortilli is a very serious matter. Almost as serious as your jealousy of my writing talent."
Remo exhaled an angry burst of air. "Fine," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not getting into this with you. If you think a moron's brilliant, that's your business."
"Fine," said Chiun happily.
"Fine," repeated Remo angrily. "So what does your resident genius have you doing anyway?"
Chiun raised a forewarning eyebrow. "I will tell you if you promise not to get jealous."
"That's it. I'm outta here."
As he spun to go, Remo felt a restraining hand grab on to his wrist. Chiun held him firmly in place. "I have been given a wondrous place in this film," the Master of Sinanju said without missing a beat. "Tortilli, who is a genius, has told me that it is a crucial location for any actor making his motion-picture debut." His singsong became a conspiratorial whisper. "I am to be installed on the cutting-room floor." His awesome revelation unveiled, he released his grip on Remo's arm.
Remo didn't know whether or not he was making a joke. When he saw the look of blissful enthusiasm on the old man's face, he realized that Chiun wasn't kidding.
"Who told you that?" he asked slowly. "Tortilli?"
Chiun's bald head bobbed eagerly. "He said that my scenes will be the first to go there," he said proudly.
For a moment, Remo considered telling Chiun the truth. But the Master of Sinanju seemed so elated. In the end, he decided to let Chiun enjoy his moment in the sun.
"I'm happy for you, Little Father," he said. There was a warmth to his pupil's tone that caught the Master of Sinanju off guard. A smile of appreciation curled the edges of the aged Korean's thin lips.
"Perhaps I can convince the genius Tortilli to put you on this floor of cuts, as well. Of course, you would have to take second billing to me," he added quickly.
"Pass," Remo said. "One star in the family is enough."
"You are probably right," Chiun admitted. "One brilliant actor-writer is sufficient."
"Speaking of writing, I heard an awful lot of swearing going on," Remo said. "Your handiwork?"
Chiun shook his head, "Changes were made prior to production. Tortilli says that the language is now more realistic."
"What about the premise? It looks like some kind of cop movie. After you ditched the dinosaurs and aliens, I thought it was supposed to be about assassins."
The old Asian's tone grew vague. "A script physician was enlisted to clarify certain aspects of my glorious tale."
"Out went the assassins, in came the cops," Remo said.
"Yes," Chiun replied. "But I retain screen credit."
"Smitty'll love that," Remo commented.
Chiun's eyes narrowed. "You did not tell Emperor Smith?" he asked levelly.
"Not me," Remo said. "This is your show."
Chiun nodded. "That is good. He will be honored when it is released, of course. For any increase in my flame will only shine more light on him."
"As the head of an ultrasecret agency working outside the confines of the Constitution, I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Remo agreed.
Chiun stroked his thread of beard. "I had something about that in the original story but, sadly, it was lost in subsequent drafts," he lamented.
"To the eternal gratitude of Smith's pacemaker," Remo responded. "Speaking of Smitty, I should check in. He was trying to track down whoever was behind the bombing here."
"I am curious about that, as well," Chiun said thinly. "At first, I thought our production was ruined, but then the genius Tortilli arrived on the scene. He has said that he can salvage much from that which has already been filmed and will be able to shoot around the rest."
"Chiun, you've taken a pretty big leap of faith with a guy you never met before," Remo complained.
"Have I not mentioned that he is a genius?" Chiun asked. "I must hie to him now, lest that pretender fill his brilliant head with dross." The Master of Sinanju took off in the direction Tortilli and Arlen Duggal had gone.
"I'm glad I'm not gonna be in Tortilli's shoes when this bill comes due," Remo muttered.
He turned to go. As he was leaving, he spied a script lying on a stool. On the hard leather jacket was a label reading Assassin's Loves: Taurus Project # K128. Oddly, they had changed everything yet retained Chiun's title.
Pausing, Remo glanced around. There was no one in the immediate vicinity.
He had been curious for quite some time. Chiun had been so damn secretive about the details. "What the hell," Remo said to himself.
He quickly gathered up the script, tearing it from its heavy binder. Rolling the paper into a tight tube, he stuffed the script into his back pocket.
Jamming his hands in his pockets, he began whistling tunelessly. Forcing a look of nonchalance, Remo strolled off the set toward the soundstage door.