"Could you make beauty of me?" she said.
"More easily than of him. You have not his bad habits. He is a racist."
"I hate racists," Joleen said. "My father is a racist."
"Ask the racist where we're going," said Chiun.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm taking us out for some fresh air. All that incense and bowing and scraping was getting me down."
"See. He is an ingrate too," Chiun confided. "People willingly open their doors to him, and he downgrades their gift and their hospitality. What an American. If he tells you he will take you back to Patna, do not believe him. White men never keep their promises to others."
"Hey, Chiun. She's as white as I am. She's from Georgia for Christ's sake."
"I don't think I want to go back to Patna anymore," Joleen announced suddenly.
"See," said Chiun. "She is different from you. Already she grows in wisdom, while you have learned less than nothing in the last decade of your years."
Remo pulled the car to the curb. "All right, everybody out. We're going to walk."
"See," said Chiun. "How he orders us about. Oh, perfidy."
Chiun stepped onto the sidewalk and looked around. "Is this Disneyland?" he asked aloud.
Remo, surprised, looked around him. A small carnival to benefit St. Aloysius Roman Catholic Church had been erected on an asphalted parking lot a half-block away.
"Yes," said Remo. "It's Disneyland."
"I forgive you, Remo, for being a racist. I have always wanted to visit Disneyland. Forget everything I said," he told Joleen. "Who brings the Master to Disneyland is not all bad."
"But…" Joleen started to speak. Remo took her elbow. "Quiet, kid," he said. "Just enjoy Disneyland." He squeezed. She understood.
Chiun's body meanwhile was moving up and down as if he were jumping in joy, while keeping his feet planted firmly on the sidewalk. His long saffron robe looked like a pillow case into which shots of air were being jetted, causing it to rise, then deflate, rise, then deflate.
"I love Disneyland," said Chiun. "How many rides can I go on?"
"Four," said Remo.
"Six," said Chiun.
"Five," said Remo.
"Agreed. Do you have money?"
"Yes."
"Do you have enough?"
"Yes."
"For her too?"
"Yes," said Remo.
"Come, child. Remo is taking us to Disneyland."
"First, I've got to make a phone call."
Ferdinand De Chef Hunt drove slowly back into San Francisco. The city confused him with its mazelike streets that seemed to run from hill to hill and then vanish.
With help he found Union Street and with more help found the building that housed the San Francisco Divine Bliss Mission. If these two targets, this Remo and Chiun, were looking for Dor around San Francisco, they had probably stopped at the mission.
They had.
"They were here. They were here," said the arch-priest Krishna. "He had a badge," he said.
"Where are they now?"
"They just called. They're at a carnival down near Fisherman's Wharf."
"Do they know where Dor is?"
"Man, how could they know? I don't even know."
"If they should return tonight, don't let them know that I was here," said Hunt. "With luck, they won't be returning."
"Am I supposed to be taking orders from you?" asked Krishna.
Hunt extracted a folded piece of paper from his wallet.
Krishna opened it and read the handwritten message from Dor, introducing Hunt as his chief emissary.
"Heavy, man," said Krishna, handing back the note. "Have you seen him?"
"Yes."
"Hail to his Blissful perfection."
"Sure, sure, sure. When did they leave?"
"An hour ago. If you see the Blissful Master again, tell him our mission joyously awaits his presence in our city."
"Right. He'll really be impressed," said Hunt.
Hunt went back down the high stone stairs of the building. In a parked car across the street, Elton Snowy watched him carefully.
"What do you think, Elton?" asked one of the two men in the back seat.
"I don't know, Puling, but I think we ought to follow him."
Hunt got into his old MG and pulled smoothly away from the curb.
"Well, then, let's follow him," said Puling. "If it turns out that he's nothing, this here building'll still be here."
"All right," said Snowy, starting the car and pulling into the street.
"Follow that car," giggled Puling. The man next to him let out a Dixie war whoop.
"We gonna stomp that kidnapper." said the man next to Snowy.
Snowy sighed and drove.
Hunt saw the big black car behind him but attached no significance to it. His mind was busy with the prospect of what was ahead, and he felt a pleasurable tingle of anticipation suffuse his entire body. He was on his way to a carnival to do what his family had done so well for so many years, and he looked forward to it. It seemed as if his whole life had been pointed toward just this moment.
"I want to go on the boats."
"You can't go on the boats. That's a kid's ride."
"Tell me where it says that," said Chiun. "Just show me where it says that."
"Right there," Remo said, pointing at a sign. "Kiddy Village. What do you think that means?"
"I don't think it means that I may not ride on the boats."
"Aren't you afraid of looking foolish?" said Remo. He looked toward the boats, four of them, bathtub length, in a circular moat, two feet wide and holding six inches of water. The boats were connected by iron pipes to the motor in the center of the moat. A carnival worker with a dirty, ripped T-shirt and a leather band around his thick right wrist operated the motor from the gate four feet away, at which he also doubled as ticket seller and collector.
"Only a fool looks foolish," said Chiun, "and only a fool twice over worries about it. I want to ride on the boats." He turned toward Joleen. "Tell him I can ride on the boats. You two are both white, maybe you can make him understand."
"Remo, let the Master ride the boat."
"He doesn't want to spend the 25 cents," said Chiun. "I have sometimes seen him waste whole dollars at a time, and he begrudges me 25 cents."
"All right, all right, all right," said Remo. "But we agreed on five rides. This is your fourth."
"Remo, I tell you this as absolute truth. If you let me go on the boat, I won't even ask for the fifth ride."
"Okay," said Remo.
Remo went up to the ticket seller and fished a quarter from his pocket. "One," he said.
The ticket man smiled a gap-toothed grin at Remo. "Sure it won't be too fast for you?"
"It's not for me, sweetheart. Now let's have the ticket before I tell the police of thirteen states that I found you."
"Okay, wiseass," said the ticket man. He ripped a ticket from a thick roll. "Here." He took the quarter.
"Do yourself another favor," said Remo. "When this ticket is used, don't say anything."
"Huh?"
"Don't make any comments and don't try to be a smartass. Just do yourself some good and keep your big mouth shut."
"You know, I don't like you. I think I'd like to work you over."
"I know, except you're worried I might be related to your parole officer. Just do what I said. No remarks."
Remo walked away and handed the ticket to Chiun who looked disappointed.
"None for her?"
"She didn't say she wanted one."
"Do you want one, girl? Do not be afraid," said Chiun. "Remo is very rich. He can afford it."
"No, that's all right," she said.
Chiun nodded, then walked toward the "Splashy-Washy," Remo at his side. "I'm kind of glad she didn't want to ride," he confided. "Screaming women annoy me."
Chiun handed his ticket to the ticket taker, who looked at the frail old Oriental, then at Remo. Remo raised his right index finger to his lips, suggesting silence.