One of them was talking about returning to group therapy instead of Poweressence. She was called a traitor.
Remo examined Pink Beach. They had done a good job of covering up the concrete. But it was easy to sense its location. The mass virtually breathed its presence under the pink sand.
The three Powie guards tried to stop Remo. With a flick of his wrist he caught their oncoming bodies and flung them into the sea. Just at the horizon was the American aircraft carrier sending off another flight of planes.
Chiun watched the wrist action as Remo propelled the charging Powies into the gently rolling waves off Pink Beach. It was hard for him to tell how much Remo was regaining of his functions by so simple a move. He could have done that while totally under the influence of the solution.
“You should have saved them to dig our way in,” said Chiun.
But he knew moving through sand was only slightly more difficult that moving through water and even people without Sinanju could do that.
They got into the room easily. Chiun pushed Remo back so that he would not step on an almost invisible spot of moisture on the rubber floor.
Remo recognized the onion-and-garlic smell. It was the formula.
Inside the room was a small glass chamber outfitted with rubber arms. A person could work with the material inside that capsule and then climb through the trapdoor underneath and come out at the entrance.
A spout and a conveyor belt were within easy reach of the arms. Apparently the rubber bags moved along the belt and were filled. A heating iron at the end of the belt probably sealed the bags.
And at the end were fifteen racks under shower heads. Apparently that was where the rubber bags were washed off and stored. But only one rubber bag remained.
“Chiun, you search for the rubber bags while I get away from here.”
“I am not a treasure hunter, I am an assassin.”
“Then I'll do it,” said Remo.
“You know you don't have your breathing correct yet,” said Chiun.
Remo went out through the sand to the fresh air and waited for Chiun. It was not a long wait.
“There is only one bag left,” said Chiun.
Remo fumbled with the communicator and finally got Smith.
“Fourteen bags are missing.”
“That's unfortunate. Move on the Dolomos now. Find out what they've done with the solution. Find out who has the formula. Find out everything.”
“And the hostages?”
“Later. I'm sorry, but it's necessary.”
“Maybe I can get to the Dolomos easiest by springing the hostages,” said Remo.
“But remember, they are secondary,” said Smith.
“Right,” lied Remo.
Remo found the hostages were being kept at the hotels on the harbor and being moved to whichever news organization paid the highest price for an interview. As it turned out, the spokesman for the group who had such profound sympathy for their cause also sold printing to Poweressence. He had profound sympathy for them even when they put alligators into people's swimming pools.
He had manicured hair, a calm disposition, and was being lavished with praise from a reporter for his remarkable composure.
Remo gave the spokesman a light punch to the solar plexus, doubling him up to the applause of the rest of the hostages. Then he took the Powie whips and wrapped them tightly around Powie necks. He took the television camera cords and just as tightly wrapped them around the necks of the television reporters.
“You're free,” he said to the hostages. “Just stay here till the Marines arrive.”
Several Powies advanced on Remo and Chiun, firing machine guns taken from the American advisers. They stopped firing when Remo and Chiun mangled their hands and flung them and their weapons against the coral rocks.
When Rubin Dolomo heard the firing he ran to his command post atop the high ridge that divided Harbor Island, now his Kingdom of Alarkin.
He got reports immediately. It was the dark-eyed man with thick wrists.
“Absolute negativity has found us,” he said.
“Launch the secondary plan?” asked the engineer.
“Not yet. We got him with the solution before, we can get him again.”
Rubin Dolomo climbed up a little ladder atop the roof of his command post, and wheezing into a megaphone said:
“Here I am. Come after me, you negative force of evil. I am the leader of the Warriors of Zor, the light against darkness, the one truth that lives forever.”
Hearing this, Beatrice Dolomo told her two handsome Powie companions to put their clothes back on and rushed to the command post.
“Why are you telling him where we are?”
“Because I want him here, precious. We stalled him last time with just a little of the solution. This time we're going to send him back to the joining of his mother's egg and his father's sperm. I hope he likes the womb.”
At the perimeter of the hotel a light mist emerged from the ground like a fog shooting upward. Remo smelled the garlic and onion and moved back.
He saw Rubin and Beatrice Dolomo peering down at him through binoculars from the roof of one of the resort cottages.
“You stay away from that mist. I will get them. At least it is a proper assassination, even if they are two nothings,” Chiun said.
“Can't kill them. Got to find out where they secreted the formula and the rest of the solution,” said Remo.
“Of course, I should have known,” said Chiun. “This was too much like honorable work. I am still on a treasure hunt.”
Some of the reporters had heard the firing and now were focusing on Chiun as he moved through the fine spray.
“Another devotee of the embattled religious faith now goes to pay homage to his spiritual leader, Rubin Dolomo, as powerful nuclear aircraft carriers surround their little stronghold,” said the reporter into his microphone as Chiun moved on.
Rubin focused binoculars on the Oriental in the kimono.
“Saints have mercy, look at his skin,” said Rubin.
“Let me see,” said Beatrice.
“Look at the forehead. Look at the hands,” said Rubin.
“They're moving. They're shedding the formula,” gasped Beatrice.
“And the machine guns didn't work either.”
“We're trapped.”
“Not necessarily. Get the President on the phone, Beatrice. I want to speak to him.”
“Why you?”
“Because I know the alternate plan.”
Remo watched Chiun move through standard defenses: the guns, more formula (this time sprayed out of a cannon), iron bars, and flying darts, presumably coated with the formula. He knew Chiun was making slow work of it because he could have moved faster. But the flourishes of the arms and the kimono told Remo that Chiun was performing for the television cameras.
Suddenly his communicator started beeping as though the entire electronics had gone berserk.
Remo managed to press the correct button and got Smith's voice.
“Stop Chiun. Whatever you do, stop Chiun. Tell him not to advance on the Dolomos.”
“We have them.”
“Tell him to stop.”
“But we have them.”
“No. They have us. They have civilization. And they have no qualms about destroying it. Just tell Chiun to stop. I'll explain later.”
Remo yelled out in Korean for Chiun not to close on the Dolomos.
“Why not?” asked Chiun. “Is it too much like honorable work?”
“Something has happened. We have to back down.”
“In front of television reporters? In front of cameras? In front of the world?”
“Now. Yes. Now.”
“I will not endure such indignity. It is my last straw.”
“Then I am going to have to stop you, Little Father.”