"Huh?"
"This is my movie, you-you scene-stealer! And you're way too late if you're here to costar. It's the third act already."
"What's she babbling about?" Remo asked Chiun.
"No one knows," said Chiun. "But we must get you out of Tibet with utmost dispatch."
"Get me out of Tibet! I came half way around the world to get you out of Tibet."
"I'm going nowhere!" Squirrelly protested. "I'm the Bunji Lamb and in Tibet the word of the Bunji Lamb is absolute law. Now, here's my plan. First, we-"
Remo and Chiun both stifled any further protest with warning gestures of their voice-deadening fingers, and they all climbed back into their respective vehicles and roared off in the direction of Gonggar Airport.
Chiun had joined Remo in the truck. Remo was driving, and Bumba Fun was hunkered down in the truck's bed.
Behind them, Lhasa quaked with explosions.
"I told those Khampas not to make a mess," Remo complained. "The minute they blew into town they couldn't wait to tear into the Chinese."
"When did you become a Khampa?" Chiun sniffed.
"I'm an honorary Khampa." Remo leaned over and whispered, "They think I'm this Gonpo Jigme character."
"And who do you think you are?" Chiun asked.
Remo threw his silver-fox turban out the window and slapped an itchy spot on the back of his head.
"A guy in serious need of a bath," said Remo. Then, noticing that the Master of Sinanju's bald head was streaked with black, he asked. "What's that on your head? It looks like you've been playing in a coal bin."
"It is a part of my disguise."
"Disguise?"
"You are in disguise. Am I not entitled to the same?"
"Well, whatever it is, it's coming off," Remo pointed out.
Checking himself in a side mirror, Chiun plucked from one sleeve a small aerosol can. He used this to liberally apply a black powdery substance to his streaked scalp.
Remo caught a glimpse of the label before the can disappeared back up the sleeve. It read Hair In A Can.
Remo rolled his eyes. Getting out of Tibet couldn't come soon enough for him.
THERE WAS a reception committee waiting for them when they wheeled into Gonggar Airport. Not soldiers, although there were a few of those present but they quickly retreated into the background.
Ordinary Tibetans lined the approach road and formed a semicircle on the tarmac. Prayer wheels, both plain and ornate, spun anxiously. All eyes followed them as they pulled up near a waiting turboprop aircraft.
"I don't like the looks of this," Remo said as he searched the crowd with his eyes.
"They will not interfere," said Chiun, but his eyes were concerned as he stepped from the truck.
"Don't be silly," Squirrelly said. "It's my adoring public." She began blowing kisses. "Yoo-hoo. It's me-the Bunji Lama."
The ranks of Tibetans regarded her without emotion.
"What's the matter with them? I've been gone sixty years. You'd think they'd be thrilled to see me."
A middle-aged Chinese in military uniform stepped from the crowd. "I am the one who offered you safe passage," he announced.
"And you will be the one to pay dearly if such passage is not granted," warned Chiun in the man's own language.
"As minister of state security for all of China, I have summoned the people of this area to see you off."
"They are welcome to behold the unhappy sight," said Chiun thinly.
"It is important that the people of Tibet see that the Bunji clique does not care for them and is willing to return to the soft comforts of the West," the security minister purred.
"We go because we chose to depart," said Chiun stiffly
"But the people of Tibet will not be left without spiritual leadership," the security minister continued smoothly, his words directed to the crowd. "For one has come to this land to offer guidance during these confusing times."
With that the Chinese minister of state security gestured to the east. "For the Tashi has returned to Tibet!" he said loudly.
"The Tashi!" Lobsang hissed.
The Tibetans took up the name, repeating it over and over in hushed reverent tones that gathered in volume to a chant.
"What's the Tashi?" wondered Remo, who had not been able to follow the conversation but noticed the word repeated over and over.
"The Tashi Lama," said Chiun tightly.
"There's another llama?" Squirrelly burst out.
"Also know as the Panchen Lama," Lobsang hissed. "He is and always has been a tool of the Chinese."
"Is he very powerful?"
"He is the reincarnation of Opame, Buddha of Boundless Light."
Squirrelly's eyes went wide. "Boundless light! Is he a bigger star than me? Am I outranked? How big is his trailer? Oh God, on top of everything else, I'm being upstaged."
"The Tashi comes!" Kula growled.
"Oh my God, the Tashi Lama is coming and my hair's a mess! And look at these clothes! I have to change. Where's my dressing room?"
"Hush. This is a moment of great importance."
The crowd parted, and a quartet of abbots in red-and-gold vestments glided into view. They approached with stately steps.
"Which one is the Tashi?" Squirrelly whispered.
As if on cue, the abbots separated, revealing a tiny figure in golden robes padding along, face soft and serene beneath his miter, eyes possessing an innocence and beauty that were beyond words.
"It's just a kid," Remo said.
It was. The Tashi Lama could not have been older than eight. His tiny face was suffused with glowing pride.
Squirrelly gasped. "But look at the size of that prayer wheel. It's humongous! And all I have is this crummy Oscar."
"That's the biz, sweetheart," said Remo.
The Tashi Lama padded up to Squirrelly Chicane with serene purpose. His guileless eyes never left her face, and he carried his great prayer wheel high, although with difficulty.
"What do I say?" Squirrelly asked nervously of Lobsang.
"Do not kneel!" Lobsang counseled.
"Is an air-kiss okay? He's so cute."
"Let him bow to you, Buddha Sent," Kula urged.
Squirrelly drew herself up to her full height and patted her hair into some semblance of order.
The Tashi stepped directly in front of her. He stood looking up with a face that was like a jewel made of perfect flesh. His eyes were unreadable. Squirrelly swallowed. She had never been very good with kids.
She hoisted her Oscar high so the crowd could see it. There was no reaction. What was wrong with these yokels? she wondered. Don't they know glamour when they see it?
Squirrelly closed her eyes and steeled herself. I'm not going to bow. No matter what. I can take this little squirt, even if I do look like a wreck. He probably wears rubber underpants. I can handle this. I know I can.
Minutes dragged past. The Tashi and the Bunji stood face-to-face at one end of the runway, surrounded by anxious-faced Tibetans, under a sky of impossible blue.
In this encounter, everyone knew, would be decided the question of the true spiritual leader of Tibet and the future of Tibet itself.
"How long does this go on?" Remo whispered to Chiun at one point.
"Until one acknowledges the other's karmic superiority."
"We could be here all day," grumbled Remo, his eyes sweeping the crowd. He noticed the minister of state security melting back into the crowd. He was walking backward, his eyes riveted on the tableau, wriggling behind a literal wall of oblivious Tibetans.
Something about that struck Remo as wrong.
Then he saw the man reach into a pocket and lift something small and black, and when he pressed it with his thumb, there was a nearly inaudible click.
THE SCRIPTURES RECORDED that on the momentous day when the Bunji Lama and the Tashi Lama met, their combined karma met, mingled and struggled in realms unknown to men. Their indomitable wills refused to relent. There could be no victory, no defeat and no outcome but stalemate.