"I have absolutely no idea. But the same particles I found in the HELP victims are in Esterquest's bloodstream."
"If he ate any thunderbug," Remo said, "so will I."
"Reenter, the paradox. And here's another thing-the stuff in their blood doesn't seem connected with the thunderbug enzyme. More blood to test will verify that, but right now I'm leaning toward that theory."
"Well," said Remo, "you have a lot more of blood to draw."
"What makes you say that?"
"We just came from Snapper land. They're all dead."
"All?"
"Every finger-flicking one of them. But the Harvesters are still munching away. Except for Theodore Soars-With-Eagles. He's dead too. We found him in his tepee with the whites of his eyes all blue."
"Blue?"
"Robin's egg blue. Mean anything to you?"
Parsons pointed to the sheeted figure. "Yes. This man's eyes were blue when he was discovered in his embalming room, dying. But look-"
Parsons lifted the sheet and digitally opened the dead man's eyes. The whites were perfectly white.
"It's the only pathological clue and it goes away within minutes of death," he said.
"I've never heard of the eyeballs turning blue," Remo said after the sheet had been restored.
"In liver disease patients you can get a really striking yellow. But blue sclera-which is what it's called-is rare. Usually, it means osteoporosis-bone disease, which I can definitely rule out."
"So what's it mean?"
"If I find out, I'll let you know. Meanwhile, I'd better take a look at those Snappers you say are dead."
"Watch out for ants."
"Ants?"
"They're really active this time of year. They'll jump anything that goes near them."
"Except me," added the old Korean.
Parsons's brow furrowed. "Ants don't jump."
"These ones do," said Remo.
Shaking his head, Dale Parsons left the strange pair.
Chapter 17
Outside the tent, where he could hear himself think, Remo said, "As soon as word of the dead Snappers spreads, we're going to be in white water, media sharkwise."
"You are speaking Imbecile," said Chiun. "Speak English."
"We'd better clear out."
"It will grow dark soon, we will not be seen if we do not wish to be seen."
"I need a shower, remember?"
The Master of Sinanju's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You need a cold shower, for you have lust in your eyes."
"Don't let's get started, Chiun. Come on."
They found their car and drove back to the motel in silence.
"You have any ideas about what's going on?" Remo asked after a while.
"Only the brilliant Thrush Limburger can explain it, but where is he?"
"One thing's for sure, he's not anywhere around here. He's too fat to hide inside anything smaller than the Goodyear blimp."
"He is not hiding. He has been spirited away by the secret fiends who are at work in these woods."
"Well, secret fiends or not," Remo said, looking around, "someone or something killed Theodore and that coroner. Something that turns their eyeballs blue temporarily."
"Poison."
"Huh?"
"Poison," repeated Chiun. "That is what the word virus means: poison."
"No, it doesn't. A virus is a bug."
"A bug is a bug."
"A virus is kinda like a microscopic bug. If it gets into your system, it reproduces and takes it over until nothing works. Kinda like congressmen."
"In Latin, a language that is good despite the fact that it is no longer spoken," said Chiun, "the word virus means poison."
Remo looked thoughtful. "I had some Latin when I was a kid. A lot of English words come from Latin, but they don't always mean the same thing as they did to the old Romans."
"You were taught Latin by pagans," Chiun sniffed.
"Those nuns at St. Theresa's taught me a lot."
"Trivia," Chiun sniffed. "They filled your empty head with trivia and superstition. I taught you everything that matters."
"I remember it a little different, Little Father." Remo suddenly remembered something. "Want me to drop you off at the Chinese restaurant?"
Chiun stroked his wispy beard. "Not unless you are going to eat too."
"I figure I'll eat later," said Remo.
"Then I prefer to starve. I am no better than a bug-eater if you prefer the company of that currymongering woman to that of the one who raised you from the muck and ignorance of the nunnery."
Remo sighed. He pulled into the bungalow just as it grew dark.
"Look," he said, getting out. "Eat or don't eat. Just don't lay any guilt trip on me because I want to enjoy a little female companionship once in a while."
"You are welcome to females by the score. As long as they are appropriately colored."
"You mean white?"
"No. Korean. Have I ever told you that the Korean woman is the fairest flower of them all?"
"Yes, and I can dig up my own female companionship, thank you."
"I am going to my room," said Chiun. He eyed his pupil for a reaction.
"Okay by me," said Remo in an unconcerned voice.
"To sleep," added Chiun.
"Pleasant dreams," said Remo.
"If my slumber is troubled by the sound of rutting, I will make myself heard."
"You make yourself heard every night with that goose-honking of yours."
Chiun drew himself up to his full five-foot height. "Slanderer! I do not snore!"
"And I tell no lies."
The Master of Sinanju flounced into his bungalow, slamming the door after him. Remo slammed his door too.
But a few minutes later, Remo was humming. He had hot water and it felt good coursing soapily down his lean, hard body. He was going on a date. He had not had a date-a real date-in years. Women he had had. Dates, no. It was nice to think he could still date, have a good time and get away from work. Especially this assignment.
By the time the knocking came at the door, Remo was whistling.
His whistle trailed off into a startled squawk when he threw open the door.
For there stood Jane Goodwoman, stark naked. More stark than naked, although she was totally naked. She was very stark.
"What are you doing here?" Remo demanded.
Jane Goodwoman smiled as wide as a Cadillac grille. "I got your note, lover!" She threw out her arms and her breasts wobbled like mismatched pink jello molds, setting her hoop earrings jangling.
"What note?"
"The one you sent to my hotel that said 'I love you madly.' "
"I hate you absolutely," said Remo. "Therefore, I sent no mash notes."
Jane Goodwoman gathered up her E-cup breasts, shoved there into Remo's face and demanded, "How can you hate these?"
Looking at the mass of flesh slopping over Jane Goodwoman's clutching hands, Remo remarked, "I didn't know tits could have thyroid problems."
Jane Goodwoman turned red and threw her hand back to slap Remo in the face. Remo was too quick. He slammed the door. The slam and the smack of her hand hitting the door blended into a single short, sharp sound.
"This despicable harassment will be in tomorrow's Blade!" she called through the quivering door.
"Get stuffed. Just be sure you spell my name right. It's Salk. S-A-L-K. With the FDA. And it is Association."
"Bastard!"
"At least I had one parent who owned up to having me."
The sound of a car going away was a relief. It was almost eight. Nalini was due any minute. Remo went over to the connecting wall with Chiun's duplex and slammed it hard enough to loosen plaster.
"Nice try, Little Father, but you blew it. She couldn't wait till eight."
The sound of snoring came loudly. It was not the usual goose-honking, so Remo knew Chiun was faking it, surrendering dignity in return for avoidance of blame.
When she came, Nalini entered the room like a balmy breeze. Her sari was a livid pink and clung to her willowy body like ocean foam. Framed by her shawl, her dusky face was like some dark-hearted lotus blossoming.