"Great Wang. Great Wang. Great Wang. There are lots of Masters. I studied them. Why is he so damned great? I don't see it."
"Because you're not good enough to see it."
"Maybe you're better than the Great Wang. How do I know?"
"You are not to know, I am to know. Hurry, all the good tyrants seem to be falling."
"How do you know the Great Wang was so great? Was he greater than your father?"
"No. I was greater than my father."
"Then how do you know?"
"When you reach a certain level, you see the Great Wang."
"Is he alive? Does his spirit still exist in this world?"
"No. It exists in the greatness of Sinanju. And when you achieve that, that next level, you will see him."
"What does he look like?"
"A bit overweight, as a matter of fact, but he told me I was thin, so on his advice I gained an ounce and a half."
"You actually talked to him?"
"You can when you make the passage. What you are feeling now is the beginning of your passage."
"So what is the big deal about passing into a better level? I'm already more than good enough for what I need. "
"How cruel the stab of one's own son, nurtured like a natural son, reverting to his white attitudes again. It is the reason that the white race will never be great."
"Anytime you want to call it quits with me, little father," said Remo, "say so."
"Testy today, aren't we?" said Chiun with a smile. The Master of Sinanju knew he had won. No matter what Remo said, he was on his way to his new level. It was not that he would seek it. Indeed, if he didn't try so hard sometimes, he would be there already. But the truth about Remo's new level was that it was not taking hold of him. And soon he would see the Great Wang for himself and hear the advice given only to the great Masters of Sinanju, whatever that advice would be. It would be right. The Great Wang was always right. Never was there a time when he was not right. This was recorded in the histories of Sinanju, this was reality. Every time Remo could move up a wall vertically and understand it was only the fear of falling that was his enemy, every time he breathed in concordance with the great forces of the cosmos, the Great Wang lived. And now he was only waiting to say hello to Remo at the right time.
This Chiun knew, and this Remo could not know until it happened.
Mad Emperor Smith arrived, a half-hour late. The one thing the lunatic had had in his favor was punctuality and now that was gone. Good riddance, said Chiun in Korean.
The translation for Smith into English lost something, however.
"Oh, gracious benignity," intoned Chiun as he opened the door for the head of CURE. "In our last day of perfect service, glorifying your name, the tears of our parting rend the hearts of your faithful assassins, knowing there will be no equal to your glory."
Even Smith, color-blind, recognized the red kimono with the gold dragons. That was the kimono Chiun had worn the first day they had met, and never worn since. They were actually leaving at last, thought Smith. It was good-bye. Well, at least they had saved the country. That force that had invaded America with impunity not only had been destroyed, but Russia had been thoroughly embarrassed and was really whipped on all fronts as the President had said. The two sides were no longer teetering toward a world-ending conflict. Russia was in retreat. They had given America the breathing space it needed to avoid launching missiles that could never be called back. Now all Smith had to do was find out why Russia had sent in the Matesev group.
Remo offered his hand.
"I guess this is the end," he said.
"I guess it is," said Smith.
"Yeah. Well, who knows," said Remo.
"Sit down. Let's talk about Matesev's mission."
"Don't have to sit, Smitty. They were after a hypnotist. Supposed to be a great hypnotist."
"They have lots of hypnotists," said Smith. "The Russians are famous for doing experiments with the human mind. Why would they be after this one?"
"Supposedly he could do it with everyone instantly. I mean when I found him, Matesev's people had his eyes taped and his mouth taped. They were scared of him."
"Of course, they should be. If he is what they say he is, someone like that could control the world. I could see how he would escape Russia easily. Escape anywhere easily. This man could walk into the Department of Defense and start a war. No wonder they wanted to keep him under wraps. I'm surprised they didn't kill him when they found out he could do those things."
"Why not use him to their advantage?" asked Remo.
"Who would be using whom when he could hypnotize anyone into believing anything? He was like an atomic warhead, but with a mind of his own. They must have been on tenterhooks all the time they had him."
"Maybe," said Remo. "In any case, Smitty, good luck and good-bye."
"Wait a minute. What did he look like?"
"About five-foot-seven. Kind of sad brown eyes. Nice guy. Lonely."
"You spoke with him?"
"Sure," said Remo.
"You let him go?" asked Smith. The lemony face suddenly turned red as horror set in. "You let him go? How on earth could you let him go, knowing what he was? How could you do such a thing?"
"That wasn't my job. You said do Matesev. I did Matesev. All right? You said find out what he wanted. I found out what he wanted. Case closed."
"You could have thought. We have to get Rabinowitz. There's no way we can let that man roam around this country. For both our sakes. Those damned stupid Russians. Why didn't they tell us? We could have worked together. "
"Good-bye, Smitty."
"You can't leave, Remo. You can recognize him."
"Recognize him, hell. He wanted to be my friend."
"You have too many friends, Remo," said Chiun. He was waiting for Remo to lift the trunks. It would not be seemly for a Master of his stature to carry the luggage. He would have Smith do it, but like most Westerners Smith only became more feeble as he grew old.
This was not a way for a Master of Sinanju to leave an emperor, carrying his own bags.
"I have one too many," said Remo. Chiun was too happy to be leaving the Mad Emperor Smith to quibble about such minor slights.
"Remo, do you understand why we have to get Vassily Rabinowitz, and do to him what the Russians did? Do you understand?"
"Understand?" sighed Remo. "I don't even want to think about it. C'mon, little father. I'll carry your steamer trunks out to the car."
"If you wish," said Chiun. Life was becoming good already. He didn't even have to work on Remo to make him do what he should have done out of the love in his heart, instead of forcing Chiun to practically beg for it. If one had to ask, one was demeaned. This might not be the absolute truth, but it sounded good, so Chiun decided to use it sometime when he had an opportunity.
"Chiun, tell him the job isn't over," said Smith.
"How can I reason with one who has served you so well? Only your words, O Emperor, are inviolate, and once spoken must be followed forever. You said he should eliminate this evil one Matesev. Is Matesev alive?"
"Well, no, but-"
"You said he should find out about this Rabinowitz. Did Remo not personally speak to Vassily Rabinowitz himself, even to the discussion of friendship?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then we leave with glad hearts knowing we followed to the absolute letter your magnificent commands."
"Name your price," said Smith.
"We are still waiting for the last tributes," said Chiun. "Not that we are crass servers of gold. But we understand as you understand that America's credit is its most priceless possession. And you most of all wish to keep your name and your credit at the highest levels of history. This when all the treasure of Sinanju is restored according to our agreements, then we would be more than happy to serve you again."