But he was surprised to see the old Oriental stay right where he was on the roof of their command post and merely rub Beatrice's inner wrists. Beatrice, Rubin could tell, was enjoying one of her major orgasms.
“Seven. Seven. Eight. Nine, Ten ten ten, oooh, ten,” shrieked Beatrice. “Ten, ten. Ten.”
“I'm going to puke,” said Remo.
“Was it good for you, you little sweetheart,” laughed Beatrice. She tried to tweak Chiun's cheek.
“And you, King, that you should suffer such breathing, it is not right,” said Chiun.
“That's okay. You just keep taking care of Beatrice, it'll be fine with me.”
“No,” said Chiun. “You are to receive Sinanju.”
And with that, he reached under the thin white blouse Rubin wore, the one with the extra pockets for the pills.
Rubin jerked up straight. His eyes widened.
“What's that in the air?”
“You're breathing,” said Chiun.
“That's right. A breath. A clean full breath. I had my last one of those the day I snuck behind the barn for my first cigarette,” said Rubin.
Chiun bowed deeply. Remo turned to look at the ocean. He wished the planes would turn, turn around and bomb everything. In the opening moves he had made earlier against Chiun, moves of course never designed to harm, he had agreed after he had obviously lost to go along with Chiun.
Chiun had promised that everything would be all right. Perhaps Remo should have known what “all right” meant. Remo had said there was a world to save. And Chiun had promised not to disgrace Remo. Now he was courting these make-believe kings and queens.
And Remo knew how truly American he was at this point. Because he suspected kings and queens were all frauds. That's why they needed assassins, to keep their relatives at bay and themselves in power. There had to be a better way to select a ruler than some accident of birth, or through fraud like the one Chiun was perpetrating now.
But Remo was not prepared for what he saw now. Rubin wanted to know how Chiun had done that. Chiun answered about forces of the body. Rubin said he knew a lot about those.
“Then you can learn Sinanju,” Chiun said. “You must know it. Your soldiers must know it. Otherwise you will be trapped here forever.”
“You can't teach Sinanju to a wreck,” Remo said in Korean.
“What is that language? What are you talking about?” asked Beatrice.
“He said you were most beautiful,” said Chiun.
“I didn't think he liked me. He was going to suffer for it, of course, but I didn't really think he liked me.”
“Who cannot love such graciousness?” said Chiun.
“Rubin, give this man whatever he wants. We have got to have more Sinanju, whatever that is. More and better. And in the morning, too.”
“You are trapped here,” said Chiun.
“No we're not. The world is trapped. Have you ever heard of Culsark, Nebraska?”
“Of course not,” said Chiun.
“I chose it because it had an open reservoir. Hit the whole town two days ago as a demonstration, but no one noticed because no one else bothers with Culsark, Nebraska. Worked beautifully. Better than the invasion of the Dromoids. Because when I told the President to check, they were already hit by the solution. Have I told you about the solution?”
“No,” said Chiun.
Beatrice, realizing Rubin was going to enjoy himself recounting his victories, went downstairs out of the sun after telling the young white that he would be next.
Remo didn't know which was worse, being downstairs with Beatrice in her boudoir or up on the roof of the command post with Chiun telling Rubin how brilliant he was. The problem was that Rubin did have a good deal of cunning. The whole civilized world was vulnerable to him.
It was then that Chiun told him he didn't need the hostages. Rubin agreed. The hostages were a weak step. One must never use weaker when one had stronger.
Chiun told him he already knew elements of Sinanju. But when Chiun himself began teaching the first steps of breathing to Rubin, and then by some communication network to some nuts called the Warriors of Zor, Remo left the roof of the command post. He wandered over to the hostages, who were holding their final press conference.
“We have learned the other side at last,” said the pilot.
“A deep spiritual communion with our fellowman,” said the spokesman for the hostages.
Remo, now acknowledged as working for the Dolomos, was able to order Powies around. He told them to collect all the newsmen in one corral, print, television, and radio. Then he had all the film removed and destroyed. That took care of anyone recognizing him.
He put the hostages on boats back to Eleuthera and told the Powies to gather at the north corner of the island.
“I don't want anyone going into the homes of the island. Stay here.”
“Is this part of Sinanju? Mr. Dolomo has been combining Sinanju with Poweressence. He has a new Warrior of Zor. His name is Chiun. We heard his voice on our radios. Are you Sinanju?”
This from a young girl who was indeed using the beginner's breathing technique.
“Yeah. I'm Sinanju.”
“This breathing is wonderful. It's so powerful,” said the young woman. “We want to know more. What shall we do?”
“Do push-ups,” said Remo.
“Is that Sinanju?”
“Sure.”
“After the push-ups what should we do?”
“Do more push-ups,” said Remo. “But don't leave this spot.”
“Because the breathing force will be lost?” asked the young woman.
“No, because I'll kill you all if you do,” said Remo. He walked back through the harbor, past the pleasant pastel houses which were now opening their doors. Children played in the streets and old women set out their market baskets under the large trees where they had sold their goods for years. Fishermen, too, were taking off for the reefs to catch the spiny lobster and grouper.
The Bahamian air was pleasant on this island and Remo loathed every breath he took of it.
He caught Chiun and Rubin Dolomo at dockside. Rubin was beaming with new energy. He threw his pills into the harbor.
“I have Sinanju,” he said. “I never need anything else again.”
“Sure,” said Remo. He saw that Chiun's hand was almost always on Rubin's spinal cord. It wasn't Rubin who was creating the energy within him but Chiun, manipulating the nervous system to send false signals of well-being to the brain. It was a form of drug. Rubin was not cured of anything.
“We are off, Remo,” said Chiun. “We will be back shortly with His Majesty's defenses strengthened.”
“He's a genius, your father. Did you know that?” said Rubin.
“Yeah, he's wonderful,” said Remo.
“You know we could have all been wiped out if it weren't for him.”
“Wouldn't want that to happen,” said Remo.
“Do you know what would happen if the solution were released by accident? We could have America believing the war was on and they would hit us with everything they had.”
“Awful,” said Remo. He couldn't look at Chiun.
“Or what would happen if all the governments of the world started looking quietly for our people and were to strike only when they knew where all of them were? We would be defenseless. You see, they can't be allowed to find them. Your father is a genius, boy.”
“Certainly does have smarts,” said Remo. He looked down at the coral rocks of the harbor. The sea was the same. Maybe all this would pass someday, he thought. But he realized it would never pass from his mind.
“Aren't you going to wish him good luck?”
Remo turned from Chiun and walked up the hump of the island, and then down through a path to Pink Beach, where he dug his feet into the sand and very quietly said, “Shit.”
* * *
In the White House Smith did not know that Chiun was already one step ahead of him.