The vehicle drove swiftly up the steady incline, engine working overtime. As it approached on the lower level, Rauch could see only the driver. There were no passengers.
When the jeep passed on the road beneath, Kluge could clearly make out the face behind the wheel. It was a woman. And there was something about her features that seemed strangely familiar.
The car disappeared behind the stabbing strip of trees and overgrown shrubs. Back near the shack, the Numbers were already aiming their guns down the road. Ready to shoot the incoming car the instant it broke cover.
It never did.
The engine continued to whine, but the car didn't drive forward. It remained hidden behind the copse of trees.
"What is she doing?" Rauch hissed nervously.
"Maybe she had to make a pit stop," suggested a voice at Rauch's elbow.
He wheeled around.
Remo was leaning against the guard shack, a placid smile decorating his hard features.
"There is no need to be vulgar," the Master of Sinanju admonished. He stood next to Remo, dressed in an orange kimono with red piping. A pair of fiery red dragons reared on their hind legs across the front of the flowing garment.
"They are here!" Rauch screamed, stumbling back to the trio of men who still stared down the road. "Shoot them!"
The three blond men spun toward Rauch. Six perfect blue eyes registered surprise when they saw the two men standing by the shed. Almost at once, three pale fingers tensed on triggers.
Rauch dove out of the way as the men opened fire. He skidded on his belly down the incline to the lower road.
A hail of bullets erupted around Remo and Chiun, ripping chunks of wood from the shack and spitting white splinters back atop the deep green plants.
"Wait a minute," Remo said unhappily as he danced around the incoming lead. "Those are the same three guys from the airport. Something's screwy here."
"Yes," Chiun agreed quickly. "While you chatter on like a stupid monkey, we are being shot at." With that, the Master of Sinanju raced across the road to the three men.
"That's news?" Remo griped. He ran after his teacher.
Chiun was first into the group of men. Dodging their blazing rifle barrels, the old Korean danced in between the two nearest men. Grabbing handfuls of blond hair in his long, tapering fingers, Chiun brought the heads together with a supersonic crack.
Perfect Aryan brains spit from perfect Aryan ears and nostrils in perfect little driblets.
As Chiun was releasing his inert bundles, Remo was flying to the third and final triplet.
The last man was spinning in place, desperate to locate his suddenly missing targets. His blue eyes had only just alighted on the smears of gray puree on the road and the placid kimono-clad figure standing above them when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He wheeled.
Remo stood beside him, his cruel features fixed in stone. "Check-out time, Goldilocks," he said.
The surviving Number saw a thick-wristed hand flutter up before his face, index finger and pinkie extended. Briefly, in the uncomplicated center of his genetically engineered brain, the last Number wondered what this man was doing. Then his survival instinct kicked in. Unfortunately, in that infinitesimally short period of time during which he was raising his rifle, Remo's hand was already shooting forward.
The blond man felt an unbelievable, blinding pressure at his eyes. Twin supernovas exploded, each bearing the distinctive swirl patterns of his attacker's fingerprints.
And then the entire universe collapsed back into ethereal nothingness.
REMO ALLOWED the body to fall from his extended fingers. There were no eyes visible in the blood-lined sockets, yet not a trace of ocular fluid or gore was visible on Remo's hand. It was as if the eyes had simply evaporated.
Remo turned from the body.
"I better go get the other one," he said.
Before he had taken a single step toward the ridge down which Veit Rauch had slid, he heard a gunshot. Exchanging tight glances, both Masters of Sinanju raced over to the hill that looked down onto the lower half of the road.
Veit Rauch's twisted body lay on the ground, Above him, gun in hand, stood Heidi Stolpe. When Remo and Chiun broke into view on the hill, Heidi twisted and crouched, aiming her gun up at them with cool professionalism. When she saw who was looking down at her, she relaxed.
"Is it safe?" she called up.
"That depends on who you plan to shoot next," Remo shouted down to her.
Heidi took this as a yes. She ran back up the road, disappearing behind the cluster of trees. A moment later, her jeep pulled into view around the far turn and headed up the hill, stopping at the bodies of the three Numbers.
As he and Chiun climbed into the vehicle, Remo said, "You must be putting your ammo dealer's kids through college."
"Does he always feel compelled to talk even when it is not necessary?" she asked Chiun.
In the back of the jeep, Chiun nodded somberly.
"And he has no sense of humor," the old Korean confided. "I spend half my time shushing him and the other half explaining the punch lines to jokes. He is not a bad son, mind you, just dour. And a chatterbox. And he sometimes eats with his mouth open."
"Look, can we just get going?" Remo begged from the passenger's seat.
"He's your son?" Heidi asked, ignoring Remo. She suddenly seemed very interested.
"That's it," Remo announced, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I'm walking." He reached for the door handle.
"Oh." Heidi glanced at Remo. "Oh, I'm sorry," she mumbled quickly, turning back to the wheel. She seemed upset with herself for becoming distracted.
She slipped the jeep in gear. But even as she eased around the bodies of the failed neo-Nazi experiment for perfection, her eyes strayed to the rearview mirror and the wizened figure in the back seat. There was something infinitely sad in the depths of her azure eyes.
The jeep continued up the winding mountain road.
ADOLF KLUGE WATCHED the jeep proceed on one of the many video monitors that lined the curving wall in the special rear room of the ancient temple.
The treetop surveillance camera tracked the vehicle as far as it could before the system automatically switched over to the next camera. The surveillance had been arranged so that once a vehicle entered the protected IV perimeter, it was never out of sight.
The jeep was moving fast.
This was it, Kluge thought. This was how IV would end.
He still couldn't completely believe that it would happen. Even though he had seen what these men could do, it was impossible to conceive that these two unexceptional-appearing men would overwhelm IV's defenses.
And yet Kluge would not have evacuated the village if he truly believed the village could survive otherwise.
Many of the monitors displayed the empty homes of the abandoned village. In streets and near the mouth of the fortress, his army of men waited patiently.
Kluge spun his chair around. Herman sat over near the radio equipment.
"Tell them they are almost here," Kluge commanded.
Herman obediently radioed the orders down to the troops.
Kluge had turned his attention back to the intruders. "Let us see if we cannot stop them before they get here," he muttered. But his voice lacked conviction.
Face somber, he flipped several silver toggle switches at a broad control panel before him. Once finished, his hand strayed to a single button, index finger hovering in place.
Eyes alert, Adolf Kluge watched the progress of the jeep.
"STOP THE JEEP," Remo ordered.
They were racing along the steep mountain road. "What?" Heidi asked. "Why?"
"Stop!" Remo snapped.
Face registering her confusion, Heidi slowed to a stop. The mountain stretched up on their left. A wooded slope dropped off to their right, overshadowed by a nearby hill.
"You feel them, Little Father?"