"It is true. While you were up here procreating with the bulbous white thing, the rest of these fools disappeared and came back wearing those nightgowns and holding candles and chanting and marching. They marched around the room. Then they formed ranks and marched outside. As it was the first interesting thing these slugs had done all evening, i deigned to join them. For their benefit I sang to them the song of the Marching Cypriots, who were also fools in nightgowns."
"So?"
"So then I was assaulted. I. Not they."
"For singing?"
Chiun sighed. "No, dim one. No one assaults the Master of Sinanju for his faultless singing. It is as the song of the winged bird-"
"For what, then?" Remo asked, exasperated.
"For refusing to wear one of their nightgowns!" Chiun shrieked. "Can you understand nothing? Those two men dared to halt the parade to demand
95
that i remove my splendid robe and replace it with primitive white garb. It was shocking."
"Look, I don't know why they're wearing those things, either," Remo said. "But it still wasn't any reason to deck them."
"I did not deck them," Chiun said with dignity. "I exercised the double-spiral air blow. Barely a touch. Oh, it was so beautiful. ..."
"Well, it didn't happen, okay?" Remo said, listening to the rising chant of the crowd calling for him outside the door. "Those two guys you almost killed are willing to say you never touched them."
Chiun smiled. "That is kind, Remo. But even the Master of Sinanju cannot execute a spiral air blow without any touching whatsoever. Oh, it was slight, just the merest flick, but nevertheless-"
"I mean they're going to say they got up there by themselves."
Chiun's eyes flashed open into saucers. "What?"
"And then nobody'll try to throw us out. We've got to stay here long enough for me to put the screws to that Dr. Foxx."
"Themselves? Those two flabby hoglets? Surely you're joking."
"It's the only way, Chiun."
Chiun glared at him. "Et tu, Remo," he said. "To think how I have trusted you, nourished you with my sweat and my work, only to be stabbed in the back by so ungrateful a pupil as to sully the glorious House of Sinanju itself."
"Trust me," Remo said, walking toward the door.
"Trust?" Chiun said with a weak puff of a laugh. "He speaks to me of trust. He who has thrust the dagger into my breast."
"Hi, gang," Remo said to the throng outside.
96
Waves and cheers went up as Burdich and the Texan warded off the searching hands.
"Re-mo! Re-mo!"
"Oh, my heart," Chiun groaned.
"Speech! Speech!"
"No, really," Remo said, smiling shyly. "It was no big deal. These fellows just got themselves into a little trouble, right?" He elbowed Burdich in the ribs.
"Right."
"He has even prepared his accomplices," wailed Chiun from the interior of the bedroom.
"Hey, who's in there?" someone asked.
"Nobody," Remo said quickly.
"Nobody!" wailed Chiun.
"I've got an idea," Remo said. "Let's all go downstairs."
"Marvelous," called out the purring voice of Posie Ponseile. She snaked forward and touched the Texan's hand, which was blocking the path to Remo. "Down, boy," she said, clasping Remo's hand. "Dr. Foxx is waiting to meet our hero." She winked at him and whispered, "As promised,"
"Thanks, Posie."
"Our hero," a woman nearby gushed.
A sound like a protracted case of Cheyne-Stokes breathing emanated from the room behind Remo.
Foxx sat in his study, wearing a silk Sulka dressing gown and holding a spoon of cocaine up to his nose. He greeted Remo with a powerful snort. "The man of the hour," he said, offering the spoon to Remo.
"No thanks. It gives me zits."
Foxx smiled. It was the same affable, smooth smile that had charmed the hearts of millions. "We're all
97
grateful to you," he said. "Those two fellows would never have made it without you."
"Piece of cake," Remo said uneasily. He didn't want Foxx to have much idea of what he could do. It was always better to be underestimated. "Lucky accident."
"Mmmmm." He snorted another noseful. "Are you here for the treatments, Mr. . ."
"Remo. Just call me Remo. Yes, sir, Doc. Just one of the boys."
"I must say, you seem like rather an unlikely candidate for our clinic," Foxx said. "Most of our guests are afraid of impending middle-age. You appear to be enjoying the pink of youth."
Remo didn't like Foxx. There was something oozy about him. And the smell. . . . There was a smell at Shangri-la, ft was stronger around Foxx than anywhere else.
"No time like the present, I always say."
"But you haven't registered."
"I'm a late arrival, I guess."
Foxx cleared his throat. "One of our guests, Bobby Jay, recognized you in your heroic stand outside the window. He claims you visited him earlier today at his apartment."
"Well, yes. . . ."
"And that you were interested in military matters."
"Not really," Remo stammered. He was being found out awfully fast. He had wanted to approach Foxx slowly, to watch his movements, to follow him until the doctor led him to something of importance.
But that was gone now. Foxx knew something was up. "I guess I was mistaken," he said.
"I want to inform you here and now that neither this
98
clinic nor myself have any connection to the military. Furthermore, outsiders are forbidden at Shangri-la." He scrutinized Remo with distaste. "What is your line of work, anyway?"
"Just odd jobs," Remo said. "You know, strong back, weak mind. I just heard things about this place, and I wanted to check it out."
Keep it low, Remo told himself. When the proper moment came, he would force Foxx into a position to move fast. But don't scare him now. Keep it nice and easy.
"And what have you discovered in your checking?" Foxx asked condescendingly.
"Oh, nothing much," Remo said. "Just the phones. Did you know all the lines were cut?"
"Really," Foxx said drily.
"Yeah. Think I could take a look at them? I'm pretty good with things like that. Maybe I could get them to work again."
"That won't be necessary," Foxx said. "They were cut on purpose."
"Why?" Remo asked innocently.
"Because we don't like strangers here." Foxx's tone became menacing. "They become tempted to communicate with those on the outside."
"Why'd you let me stay this long, then?"
"You were-shall we say, detained by one of our guests," Foxx said. "Rest assured, Miss Ponselle has heard about her behavior. And will hear even more."
Remo smiled. "But now the other guests don't want you to kick me out, either," he said.
Foxx sniffed haughtily. "Since you were so helpful to our two troubled guests, you and your aged friend will be granted special dispensation to remain for the Exit of Age ceremony tonight. However-"
99
"The Exit of Age?"
Foxx made a deprecating gesture. "A small ritual we perform on the eve of the dispensation of monthly treatments. The guests like it. You may remain for the Exit of Age, but I'm afraid you must leave before tomorrow morning. This is an expensive clinic, after all. It really wouldn't be fair to allow you to remain alongside paying guests. You understand." He was so fatherly, so firm yet gentle, so practiced in his manner.
So phony, Remo thought. But keep it low. !f he wanted them out by tomorrow, the moment when he would take action was coming up soon. All it would take, then, would be a little push from Remo, and Foxx would go running like a scared rabbit. With Remo right behind him.
"Of course, I understand," Remo said in his best orphan-boy voice. "And I appreciate your letting my friend and me stay for the Exit of Age. We sure wouldn't want to miss that. No, sir." Just a little push.