"Why did you leave then?" asked Remo, steering the girl toward the terminal.
"I left because the Blissful Master was in India and it was perfect. And now that the Blissful Master is in America…"
"Right," Remo concluded with disgust, "America is perfect now." She had been loose when he found her, she had been loose on the plane, and she was still as loose as a pail of killies.
He turned toward Chiun and shrugged. Chiun confided to him: "Anyone who would allow an Ilhibad tribesman out of the hills to defend himself is capable of anything. If the girl is a follower of his, she is defective in the head. She must be watched."
They moved through the doors into the main terminal, and as they stepped inside, Joleen let out a wail and pulled away from Remo. Inside the terminal, people turned to see where the scream had come from. They saw a girl in a pink wrap bolt forward into the terminal building, running at top speed, stopping only at a stone column, which she embraced with both arms, and began to deposit kisses upon.
"Now this is getting silly, Chiun," said Remo.
"It is your problem. I wish only to get on the vessel to return to Sinanju, and not be deprived of it by your tricks."
"You're the one who decided not to go," Remo said, watching the back of Joleen, who was still kissing the column.
"Only because there was an obligation to meet, and now it is met and I wish to go home. If this were a decent country with people who kept their promises, I would not have to feel this way, but as it is…"
"Right, right, right, right," said Remo.
He walked away to collect Joleen Snowy. She had left the first column and was now embracing a second one. Remo saw what she had been slopping kisses onto. There was a poster on the column showing Maharaji Gupta Mahesh Dor. Remo shook his head. He looked like a brown toad. A brown toad with a mustache that wasn't ever going to make it.
As he drew close to Joleen, he heard her babbling, "O Divine Blissfulness. O Most Perfect Master." Every word was punctuated with the smack of wet kisses. "Your servant awaits you again, with open body, the vessel upon which you may work your perfect will."
"Don't talk dirty," said Remo, lifting her by the waist and pulling her from the pillar.
"Do not make into dirt something that is pure and beautiful and religious. I am his handmaiden."
"He looks like he could be a dirty old man," said Remo, "except he really lacks the character. He looks more like a dirty young boy with fuzz on his lip."
Chiun joined them, and Remo steered Joleen Snowy toward the front door of the terminal. "He is the perfect master," she screeched. "All blissfulness. All peace and love come to those who truly love him. I have been among the chosen."
She continued her caterwauling into a taxicab, while Remo was trying to tell the driver their destination.
"He is bliss. He is beauty. He is power."
"She is nuts," Remo told the driver. "Take us into the city. I'll tell you where when she runs down."
But Joleen would not stop.
"All bliss. All perfection. All peace. All love," she shrieked.
"Cabbie, pull over here," said Remo. When the cab driver pulled to the curb, Remo leaned toward the front seat so the driver could hear him.
"Is this noise driving you nuts?" Remo asked.
The cabbie nodded. "I thought she was like your kid sister or something," he shouted.
Remo shook his head and reached into his pocket. He handed forward a fifty dollar bill. "Look. This is a tip in advance. Now how about going into that diner down the block and getting a cup of coffee? Give me five minutes."
The cabbie half turned in his seat and looked at Remo carefully. "You're not thinking of any funny stuff, are you? Just last week, some guys attacked a driver's meter."
"I never attacked a meter in my life," said Remo. "Come on now. Five minutes."
"Do I keep the key?"
Remo nodded.
The cabbie looked at the fifty dollar bill in Remo's hand, shrugged, plucked it from Remo's fingers, and stuffed it into the pocket of his yellow plaid shirt. "Time for my break anyway."
He pushed open the door and walked away from the cab, pocketing the key.
"All truth. All beauty. All wonder. All marvelousness."
"Chiun, would you go for a walk?" asked Remo.
"I will not. I will not be driven from this cab by the wailing of any banshee. Besides, this neighborhood does not look safe."
"All right, Little Father, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Remo turned to Joleen Snowy, still shrieking, and put a hand under her left breast, finding a nerve just between the flesh and the rib cage, and gave it a twitch.
"Oh, sensitivity, oh perfect, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," she said.
"Oh, disgusting," Chiun said. "You Americans are like horses in a pasture." His hands seemed not to move, but then he was out of the cab, and the door slammed behind him with a thunk that would do nothing for the door lock's longevity.
Alone in the cab with Joleen, Remo said: "You want bliss? I'll give you bliss."
And he did.
At one end of the street the cabdriver sipped coffee.
At the other end; Chiun found a store window filled with tape recorders and transistor radios and portable television sets, all of which looked interesting and worth possessing, until he saw they had been made in Japan.
He forced himself to stay there for exactly 300 seconds, then went back to the cab. He got in the back door and sat next to Remo and Joleen Snowy. He said nothing.
A few minutes later the cabdriver returned. He glanced with suspicion into the quiet back seat to make sure that Remo had not murdered the screecher.
Joleen sat quietly between Remo and Chiun. Her only sound was an occasional moan. "Mmmmmmmmm." She smiled a lot.
The cabdriver drove off,
"Mmmmmm. Bliss. Peace. Mmmmmmmm." Joleen Snowy put her arms about Remo's neck. "You are a perfect master too."
Chiun snickered. Remo looked out the window in disgust.
Ten minutes later, Remo was in a telephone booth. Across Market Street in San Francisco, a digital clock out side a bank building flashed the hour, minute, and second: 11:59:17.
Remo was not comfortable with that time; it seemed to him that it was later. He wore no watch, he had not for years, but he did not believe 11:59: now 22.
Remo dialed the phone, calling a toll-free 800 area code number. On the first ring, Smith answered.
"Just in time," he said. "I was about to cut this line for the day."
"What time is it?" asked Remo.
"Twelve-oh-two and fifteen seconds," he answered.
"I knew it," said Remo. "The clock here is wrong."
"So of what importance is that? Most clocks are wrong."
"Yeah," said Remo. "I knew it was wrong, but I didn't know how much. I haven't been that much off time in years."
"Maybe it's jet lag," said Smith.
"I don't have any jet lag, whatever that is," said Remo.
"Forget it. Any report?"
"We've been to Patna, but the little toad skipped before we got there."
"Where are you now?"
"San Francisco. His most Blissful Bullshit is having some kind of rally here in a couple of days."
"Yes," said Smith. "I presume that's the 'big thing' we've been hearing about."
"Guess so. He's been collecting Baptist ministers."
"Baptist ministers? What for?"
"I don't know. Maybe converts or something. When I find him, I'll find out. Chiun is on my back. He wants to go to Sinanju right away."
"Remo, it'll have to wait. CURE's been compromised. Someplace in here we've got one of the maharaji's people."
"Why not? He's got them everywhere. Did you drop all those people off the Empire State Building like I told you to?"
"No. But they're all going into hospitals for medical examinations until after the maharaji leaves the country. You said there were other names, other followers, that the man in San Diego didn't know."