Clothes on his arm, he walked across the hall to his private bathroom. From behind the closed door came the sound of someone moving around.
Remo knocked and asked, "Who's in there?"
A boisterous voice cried, "It is I-Kula!"
"Water warm enough for you?"
"It is wonderfully cold."
"You shower cold?"
"I was speaking of the well water. It is very cold and sweet when one plunges one's face in it."
"For an extra thrill, pull the silver handle," said Remo, annoyed that his private bathroom had been usurped. Still, there were sixteen units and each had a bathroom. Finding an unoccupied shower wouldn't be hard.
Scraping sounds came from the next bathroom. The door was open and Remo peered in.
Inside, the Most Holy Lobsang Drom Rinpoche was seated beside the bathtub, stark naked, using one of Remo's spare toothbrushes to abrade caked dirt off the skull and shoulders of the dead Bunji Lama.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Lobsang Drom stuck out his tongue at Remo in greeting and said, "I am making the old Bunji Lama presentable so that he may meet the new."
"After you're done, don't forget to clean the tub."
The Tibetan. looked injured. "You are the servant here, not me."
"Fine. I'll clean the tub if you agree to bathe."
"I will bathe when the proper time comes."
"When will that be?"
"When the new Bunji Lama sits on the Lion Throne. For I took a vow that I would not bathe until that glorious day arrives."
"You took a vow of nonbathing?"
"Yes. What do devout Christians do?"
"Oh, the usual. Mass. Fasting. Celibacy. Bingo."
"I too have taken a vow of celibacy."
"When you stop bathing, celibacy stops being optional," said Remo, moving on to the next bathroom.
From the downstairs kitchen came the sound of Chiun puttering around, and Remo decided his shower could wait. On the way down the stairs he climbed into his clothes.
The Master of Sinanju did not turn at his approach. Instead, he sniffed the air, wearing a disagreeable expression on his parchment countenance.
"I see you have not showered this morning," he said in an arid tone.
"So call me a filthy Tibetan."
"You are worse than an unbathed Tibetan. You are insolent. I can stand the way you reek, but not your braying."
"Look, these people are your friends. How can you con them with this Bunji Lama mumbo jumbo?"
Chiun whirled. "Remo! How can you ask a question like that of me? The one who raised you up from the muck of this backward white land and made you into what no white has ever been?"
"I meant no disrespect, Little Father-"
"I do what I must do so that the babies of my humble village are properly fed and want for nothing. If my emperor tells me that an enemy of his waxes great in strength and must be dispatched, do I ask if this enemy truly deserves death? No. I go to the place where he dwells and although it is an unpleasant thing, I do this. For it is the obligation I took upon my frail shoulders when I assumed full Masterhood, as you one day must do. For if we fail in our obligation, no more gold will go to the barren shores of Sinanju, and the people, who cannot fish because the waters of the bay are too cold and cannot plant because the ground is always hard and untillable, will be forced to send the babies home to the sea, which is another way of drowning them so they do not suffer from privation."
"Look, I know this story by heart."
Chiun cocked his birdlike head to one side curiously. "And do you believe it?"
"Not completely."
"No! What part do you not believe?"
Remo thought a moment. "All of it."
"All?"
"Yeah. I don't think the babies have been in danger of being sent home to the sea in centuries. Maybe they never were. Maybe it's just a story your ancestors told themselves because they did things that were hard to stomach. Besides, you've got so much treasure back at the Masters of the House that you could feed all of Korea on the gold alone."
Remo waited for Chiun to explode.
"That is what you truly think?" he asked coldly.
Remo folded his bare, lean arms in quiet defiance. "Yeah. Sorry. But that's the way I figure it."
Chiun cocked his head the other way and clucked, "You are learning more quickly than I had imagined you would."
Remo blinked. "So answer my question. Why are you conning your friends? They take this Bunji Lama stuff very seriously. It's their religion."
"I do this for a very simple reason."
"Yeah?"
Chiun lifted a wise finger. "They have turned to the Master of Sinanju for help-"
"And-?"
"And they offered a roomful of gold!" said Chiun, raising both fists to the sky so fast his wide kimono sleeves dropped back to reveal bony pipe-stem arms.
"I should have known," said Remo. "Look, how about I stay home for this outing?"
"You would let your adopted father travel across this country in the company of strangers, unescorted?"
"You just want me to carry your trunks, and you know it."
"Kula will carry my trunks."
"What do I carry?"
"You," said Chiun, returning to his pot of rice, "will carry the burden of making an honored guest of this house carry my trunks."
TWO HOURS LATER, Remo was carrying Chiun's steamer trunks to the rental limousine idling in the condo parking lot. Since it was a day trip, Chiun had not insisted on bringing all fourteen. He had wanted Remo to carry five, but Remo had put his foot down.
"There's room in that trunk for maybe four trunks, and that's it," Remo had pointed out.
"Then I will make do with only four," Chiun had allowed.
Remo got the fourth one into the spacious trunk and locked it.
"Why did you lock the trunk?" asked Kula when Remo started back to the house.
"Because it's full."
"What about the Bunji Lama's trunk?"
"Damn! I forgot about that."
"How could you forget the Bunji Lama?"
"Believe me, it wasn't easy. But there's no room for him in the trunk."
"Then he will ride with us."
"I'll give it a second look. You never know."
"No, it is only fitting that the Bunji Lama ride with us."
Remo thought fast and said, "How about if I ride up front?"
"That is agreeable," said Kula.
"Good," said Remo, who hoped the glass partition between the driver's compartment and the back was airtight.
It turned out to be completely airtight. It also turned out that when the Master of Sinanju heard that Remo had insisted on sitting up front, he had dismissed the expensive rental driver so Remo could drive, and personally placed the trunk containing the Bunji Lama in the front passenger seat.
Remo found this out when he slid behind the wheel and almost gagged. He rolled down the windows, got in again and glared at the Master of Sinanju in the rearview mirror.
Chiun looked his blandest.
Remo started the limo, and soon they were humming along the Southeast Expressway, north to Logan Airport. It was normally called the Southeast Distressway, but this morning traffic was flowing smoothly.
Kula's voice boomed over the passenger intercom.
"There is no fermented mare's milk in the refrigerator."
"Remind me to give the limo company people a severe scolding when we get back," Remo said.
"You live in a very uncivilized country, White Tiger."
"No argument there."
"But do not worry. There will be plenty of fermented mare's milk in my personal skyboat. "