"I beg your pardon," Wissex said, "but not so, sir. What we assured you was that we provided the finest knife fighters there are."
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"This time I want success."
"You are getting the best," said Lord Wissex.
"Make sure," said Moombasa, and while Hassan and the other snipers marched out, Wissex finalized the contract. Five million dollars more.
Before the snipers set off, Wissex described the woman they were to seize. Apparently, there was some obstruction, he said, some bodyguards that were better than the usual thick-witted musclemen.
"You there, Mahatma, you will be in charge. I want to know what the bodyguards are like, before you destroy them. But seize the girl unharmed."
And then Wissex took out a map and showed where the woman and her bodyguards would be going. It was a small village in the Yucatan peninsula.
"They will be going to this village. Camping over probably. And then on to this area over here, where the woman may find an inscription. That might be the best point because they will all be concentrating on that inscription. Do you understand?"
"Spoken is done," said Mahatma.
There were other things Terri Pomfret didn't like besides heights and depths. She didn't like mosquitoes. Some said the Yucatan grew them with bellies like baseballs and beaks like railroad spikes.
"How come he isn't bothered? Or you?" she said to Remo. They had stopped four times for her to rest.
"Because, like the forces of the universe, mosquitoes respect the good," Chiun said. "However,
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they do not bite Remo because I have taught him tricks."
"Teach me tricks," said Terri.
"Why?" said Chiun.
"Because I'm not going any farther unless you do," she said.
"Then sit and stay here. We have promised to keep you alive, not comfortable," Chiun said.
"Why did you have to say that to him?" Remo asked Terri,
"What difference does one more insult make in a life?" Chiun interrupted. "They are like the mosquitoes. Killing one does no good, nor is it missed."
"What insult? What insult did I say?" screamed Terri. Her skin bitten, her legs raw from the sweating pants, the jungle so humid it was like swimming; and now to top it all, the Oriental was angry at her.
"Well, you wouldn't think it's an insult," Chiun said.
"Of course I don't think it's an insult. I don't even know what it is," she said.
"How crude. How white," said Chiun.
"I didn't say it," Remo said.
"No. This time you didn't. But your friend did."
Remo was mad. Terri Pomfret wasn't his friend. She was a very talky professor who had to be escorted to some make-believe mountain of gold. But early on, when he had had trouble convincing her that she would be safe, Chiun had decided that she was Remo's friend. That way, he could add her actions to Remo's and keep brimming the bowl of the world's injustices to a land, decent old man
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wishing only peace. It sometimes could keep Remo in line.
But this time, Remo had decided it was not his fault and she was not his responsibility. And he was going to do the job because it was his job. No more. She was not his friend, and he wouldn't take that baggage from Chiun. Even if she was attractive when she wasn't yelling as she was now.
"Will you, for heaven's sakes, please, please, please tell me what insult I committed. Just tell me. I won't do it again."
"It's nothing," said Chiun.
"No. Tell me. Please tell me. So I will never do it again."
"If you wish and only because you beg. I should be addressed as 'Gracious Master.''
"Certainly, Gracious Master. Absolutely, Gracious Master."
And Chiun raised a finger so that the long nail was perpendicular to his shoulder.
"Correct," he said. "See, Remo. I have just met this noisome woman and already she knows how to address me."
"I'm not calling you Gracious Master," Remo said.
"And after all I have given him," Chiun told Terri.
"Why don't you call him Gracious Master if that's all he wants?" Terri asked.
"You don't understand," Remo said. "Let's go."
"And now you're mad," Terri said to Remo.
"Sweetie, if you want to go through life with everyone liking you, better dig a hole and end it now because that isn't going to happen," he said.
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Terri slapped her neck. There was another mosquito bite. Chiun picked three leaves and told Terri to chew them.
"The Chocatl chew them from birth and mosquitoes never bother them. A good people, the Chocatl. In your calendar of 907, we serviced the Chocatl, although they were somewhat poor. We took carvings instead of gold. The Incas had gold. The Mayans had gold. But not the Chocatl. But because they showed proper respect for a Master of Sinanju, we killed the evil king who was persecuting these good people. Even though they had no gold. Only carvings."
"That's a beautiful story. But I thought the Americas were only discovered in the 1400s," Terri said.
"By white men," Chiun explained.
"Why didn't you share your knowledge with the world?" Terri asked.
"Open up a market to competitors?" Chiun said.
"I think that is very beautiful about serving someone for only carvings because that was all they could afford. It makes even assassins look noble. Not that I have anything against what you do," Terri said.
"We are often misunderstood," said Chiun. He looked at Remo, but Remo was looking up ahead. This was supposed to be a village trail, yet there were no signs of anyone having walked the path in the last few hours-which they would certainly find if they were close to a village. There were no freshly snapped twigs or pressed foliage from feet that left ever-so-minute impressions on the cells of the leaves.
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"Don't you think that is beautiful?" Terri asked Remo.
"About the carvings of the Chocatl?" Remo said.
"Yes."
"Have you seen them?" Remo asked.
"No. Of course not."
"Ask him what those carvings were made of," Remo said.
He tried to get the sense of the village up ahead as Chiun had taught him. One could feel a concentration of people if one let the body do it. You didn't force the listening or you would never hear. You let what was be, and in being, you understood it was there. But the path was widening and there was no village up ahead. How he knew, he could not explain. But like so much of Sinanju, it just was.
There was something up ahead but it wasn't a friendly village.
"What were the carvings made of?" Terri asked, chewing the leaves and happily surprised that mosquitoes now seemed to try to avoid her.
"A nothing," Chiun said. "Certainly not gold."
"He says nothing," she told Remo.
"Since when is jade nothing?" said Remo. He raised a hand for a halt.
"Jade? The carvings were jade? And you said they were nothing," Terri told Chiun.
"You can think of jade as nothing," Chiun said blandly.
"No one else does."
"When you are used to working for gold and settle for less, then jade is nothing. It is nothing compared to your lovely smile," Chiun said.
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"Do you mean that?" Terri asked. Her head turned toward Chiun, she bumped into Remo.
"Hey. You interested in living? Stop," said Remo.
"How could I not mean it?" Chiun asked Terri.
"I've been told my smile is my best feature," Terri said. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Remo was pointing for her to step back.
"It always is with the really great beauties," Chiun said.
"I've never thought of myself as a great beauty. Attractive maybe. Stunning perhaps," said Terri Pomfret. "But not really a great beauty. Not really. Not all the time, anyway."
"When the Master of Sinanju says great, he means great," said Chiun. "I have seen stunning and attractive. You are far beyond that."
"Hey, Terri. Death. Destruction. Fear. Getting killed. Valium. Heads rolling. Fingers cut off. Danger," said Remo, trying to get her attention.