"Silence, wench," Chiun menaced.
Suk looked up at her, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Yes," he said, also in German. "She is correct, Master."
"She is a woman and is therefore incapable of correctness. You are dealing with me," Chiun warned. "Where is my property?"
"The men who escorted me here have the coins," Suk answered.
"Remo," Chiun snapped. He jerked his head toward the men who still stood back near the door. Remo went dutifully, if somewhat reluctantly, over to the door. One of the men held a small package-about the size of a cigar box. He willingly handed it over to Remo.
"Wait here," Remo ordered. He jogged back to Chiun. "Here it is," he said. His tone was painfully uninterested.
Chiun ripped the box from his hands. Tearing it open, he fussed over the coins inside. They were wrapped in two long tubes of cellophane.
"Is this all?" he asked, knowing full well that it was.
"Oh, yes," Suk said pleadingly. "They are all there."
"Very well," Chiun said. Snapping the box shut, he handed it to Remo. "Where is the other item?"
"Other item?" Suk said. He was frightened beyond reason.
"The wood carving," Remo interjected.
"Oh, that. I no longer have it."
"What!" Chiun bellowed.
The old man picked up Suk as if he weighed no more than a packet of complimentary cashews. Kimono sleeves snapping, he hurled Suk against the bulkhead of the plane. Suk slammed full force against the wall. He slid painfully into a window seat.
Chiun was on him again. Yanking the whimpering man to his feet once more, the Master of Sinanju flung Suk to the other side of the plane. As he slammed against the far wall, the nearest Plexiglas window cracked beneath Suk's elbow. His bone fared no better.
Suk shrieked in pain. He scampered back against the wall as Chiun again approached him.
"I know who has it," Suk begged, cradling his arm.
"Who?" Chiun demanded.
"A man. A German," Suk panted. "Adolf Kluge."
"Kluge?" Remo asked, coming up behind Chiun. For the first time, this wasted trip began to interest him.
"Kluge?" Chiun demanded of the air. "Who is this fiend who springs up at my every turn?" As he asked the question, he shook Keijo Suk so violently the thief's molars rattled.
"I do not know," Suk whined. "He approached me a year ago for business reasons. He wished for me to broker a deal between our government and one of his companies. Only last week did he ask me to steal the piece of wood."
"Where can we find him?" Remo asked.
"I do not know," Suk breathed. "He always called me. He was going to contact me once more when he-" he looked down, ashamed "-when he collected the balance owed me for taking the carving."
"So, Kluge expected to come into some cash," Remo said.
"What?" Heidi asked. She hadn't understood a word of what had just been said until Remo's last comment in English. "What has Kluge to do with this?"
"He's the one who has our quarter," Remo explained.
"Not for long," Chiun said. He spun back to Suk.
"Mercy," the thief begged. He was on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Chiun's lip curled as he regarded the pathetic figure before him. "You will have it though you did not earn it," he intoned.
A tight hand drew back and fired forward, slamming against Suk's chest. The thief's eyes sprang wide as his fragile heart exploded inside his chest cavity. Suk dropped forward onto the carpeted aisle of the plane, his mouth leaking a puddle of deep red.
Chiun pulled the box of taped coins from Remo. Wheeling, he marched up to Suk's waiting Korean entourage.
"You," Chiun said, pointing to one man. "Take these to my village. My caretaker will be there to collect these." A cautionary nail found a spot on the man's throat. "And be warned, I know precisely how many are there."
The official cast an eye to the body of Suk. He was unaware that he had begun nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes, Master of Sinanju. At once, Master of Sinanju."
He took the box in quivering hands, racing out the door and down the stairs. A moment later, Remo spied him out the window, running for all he was worth across the cold tarmac.
"And you," Chiun said to the other. "Remove this carrion from the Master of Sinanju's plane." He indicated the body of Keijo Suk.
"At once, Master of Sinanju," the government agent said.
As the agent hustled down the aisle and hefted the corpse awkwardly to his shoulders, Remo sidled up to Chiun.
"Your plane?" he asked.
"It is the least they can do, considering my ordeal," Chiun said. "After all, it was a representative of this despicable regime who violated the sanctity of the Master's House." Thus justified, he marched past Remo and took his usual seat over the left wing of the plane.
"I hope the despicable regime agrees with you," Remo muttered, shaking his head.
He ushered a confused Heidi Stolpe back down the aisle. The guard came past in the other direction carrying the body of the late Keijo Suk.
Chapter 16
Adolf Kluge hated living hand to mouth. As head of IV, he was accustomed to an opulent life-style. Now he was reduced to begging for every meal.
When he had taken over the stewardship of IV, one of his first acts had been to sever the organization's ties with Germany's neo-Nazi underground. He considered the years of money that had been lavished on these groups by his predecessors to be money completely wasted.
But Kluge was not without some vision. He had somehow planned for a day where he might be in the situation he found himself in now. It must have been on some instinctive level, for he certainly never truly expected it to happen. Lucky for him, his instincts had been correct.
Kluge had wisely not cut IV's ties with every neoNazi group. The ones that remained-while not eager to part with their money-were loyal to the cause and, therefore, loyal to Adolf Kluge. They shared what little they had with him.
It was only right. After all, at one time it had been Kluge's money.
Feeling the lightness of his wallet every step of the way, Adolf Kluge stepped into the lobby of Berlin's Unser Fanatischer Bank. Trying to preserve the sense of arrogance he had displayed his entire life, Kluge marched boldly over to the receptionist's desk.
"Please inform Mr. Riefenstahl that I wish to see him," he said officiously.
The woman was aware that Kluge was a large depositor at Unser Fanatischer. She immediately dialed the interoffice number of the bank manager, unaware of the hard times that had recently befallen Herr Kluge.
She found out soon enough.
When Riefenstahl answered the phone, the receptionist informed him of Kluge's request. There was a great deal of talking from the other end of the line-much more than there would have been a few short weeks before.
The receptionist grew nervous. Embarrassed, she tried to avoid eye contact with Kluge who stood-growing ever angrier-before her highly polished half-shell desk.
The bank manager was actually trying to avoid him! A far cry from the way the man had always fawned over Kluge when the IV leader controlled accounts in the millions.
It was more than Adolf Kluge could bear. Lunging across the desk, he ripped the phone from the startled receptionist's hand.
"Listen to me, you fat Prussian pig," Kluge hissed. He was so angry, his words launched spittle into the receiver. "I need access to my safe-deposit box. And unless you want me to turn you over to the national banking commission, I would suggest you drag your greasy carcass down here now!" He slammed the phone into the cradle.
Huffing and puffing and running as if the building were on fire, Otto Riefenstahl appeared down the lobby staircase twelve seconds later.
"Herr Kluge," he begged obsequiously. "Forgive the error. I was led to understand that you were someone else." As he mopped his forehead with a sopping handkerchief, he shot an appropriately dissatisfied look at the receptionist.