Chiun laid a delicate hand on the chiefs arm. "Try to tell us everything," he said. "It will help."
"Please," Smith urged.
Timu swallowed. "Yes. It is necessary," he said grimly. He steeled himself with a deep breath. "One day while she was walking to the clinic, she was violated by a group of men. She was raped and beaten almost to death. Zoran himself found her and took her to his clinic. It was weeks before she regained consciousness. Since she was covered with cuts, he isolated her from us until she was completely healed, to protect her from the contamination of leprosy. We did not see her for six months."
"Who did this to her?" Smith asked.
"She did not remember. She still does not remember. Not a face, nothing. Only that there were many men."
He shook his head. "After that, she was changed. She never left the colony again, and could no longer work at the clinic. She chose to live as a leper, as far away from the outside world as possible."
Chiun said, "It is a sad story. But how did you come to leave Molokai for this godforsaken place?"
"It was for Ana," the chief said. "You see, after her wounds were healed, Zoran continued to treat her in her mind."
"Hypnosis," Smith said. It was one of Lustbaden's specialties.
"He said it was to help her recover from the shock, but later Ana told me in private that he used the sessions to perform shameful acts on her."
Smith felt a wave of disgust. He remembered Dimi's beautiful daughter, used by Lustbaden until the day she killed herself with a broken bottle.
"But he had her mind," Timu cried out. "He had words that brought the rape on the road back to her. He had her trained to remember the pain and fear whenever she refused to do his will." He clasped Chiun's hand. "That was why I told your son not to befriend Ana. Zoran's power over her is such that she cannot even feel friendship toward another without reliving every terrible moment of that day on the road."
"Odd," was all Smith had to say.
"The villagers stay away from her. They must, although they love her as I do. Many have gone to their deaths for befriending Ana. The pain comes to her, and it controls her. Only Zoran can stop it then. She goes to him. Zoran has twisted her so that she belongs to him, not with her heart, but with the terror in her mind."
"I understand," Chiun said. "So when Zoran left Molokai, Ana had to go with him. But why did you and your people follow him also? You could have stayed in Hawaii, where you could live comfortably."
"He would not take her without us. He said she would suffer until she died of the pain. Fifty lepers of all ages, he demanded. It was up to me to convince them to come." He spoke to the ground. "My people were sold into slavery by their chief, because they trusted me."
Timu's face was streaked with silent tears. Smith cleared his throat.
"Zoran promised us the best care," the chief went on. "Medicines, schools, hospitals, homes. I did not know it was all a lie. He said he would find a cure for us."
"What about Ana?" Chiun said. "She said he was a liar."
Timu hung his head. "Zoran is a man of strong will and polished words. He told me that Ana's accusations against him were false, that she was crazy. For a time I believed him. Or perhaps I only wanted to believe him, in order to save my sister.
"We came here by sea, in the hold of a fishing boat. It was a long journey. Zoran kept us alive with drugs from his clinic, but we were not permitted on the deck with him and the crew. The air was heavy and stinking. We were treated like cattle. The fifty chosen ones," he said with a bitter smile.
"You mentioned words," Smith said. "Words Zoran used to bring on your sister's attacks. Can you remember what they were?"
"Foreign words," the chief said dully.
The sound of a stifled sob very near the hut brought Smith to his feet.
Chiun looked out the small doorway. A flash of red cloth, a tan leg disappeared into the rain forest.
"What was that?" Smith asked.
"The girl, Ana. She heard us."
The chief placed his head in his hands. "She has gone to the waterfall," he said. "She seeks comfort there. If only she could come to us. But Ana must remain either alone at the waterfall, or out of her head in Zoran's cave."
Smith considered for a moment. "Is she familiar with the interior of the cave?" he asked.
"Completely. When Zoran has her in his power, she is permitted to walk freely in his domain."
"She's got to help us get inside," Smith said urgently to Chiun.
"I can get inside," Chiun said.
"I know," Smith said. "But we need her as a guide once we're in there. I wonder where Remo is."
"So do I," said Chiun. "He should have returned by now. Let us talk to the woman."
The two men left the hut, thanking Timu for his honesty. "Be careful, my friends," the chief said to their backs as they entered the steamy darkness of the jungle.
?Chapter Twelve
Remo awoke in a drugged haze, his wrists and ankles bound to his cot by steel bonds. Slowly he began to indentify the din that had been throbbing through his sleep as the soundtrack of an old anti-American propaganda film projected on the darkened wall. It was idiotic military pap, running repeatedly.
In the cot next to his, a young man sat transfixed, his bleary eyes staring blankly at the vintage film.
"You Caan?" Remo shouted over the blare of the soundtrack.
The man didn't answer.
Blinking hard to clear his mind of the fuzziness brought on by the injection in his back, Remo snapped off all four bonds and reeled slowly to the projector. With a shaky two-finger thrust, he snapped the motor in two.
The sudden silence sounded like an angel chorus to Remo, but the other man continued to sit forward on his cot, staring fixedly at the blank wall in endless fascination.
"Are you Richard Caan, the pilot?"
The man turned his head so slowly that it looked as if the movement were guided by a run-down mechanism. His eyes wouldn't focus.
"Lieutenant Junior Grade Richard A. Caan, U.S. Navy, 124258486," he mumbled, his lips dry and stringy with saliva.
"Jesus, what's that nut been doing to you?" Remo said, appalled by the man's condition.
"My mission is to fly the F-24 over New York City at the appointed time," he said mechanically. "My mission is..."
"New York?" Remo asked. Caan repeated his drill. "But why New York?"
"My service will help to nullify the Soviet-American bloc, which terminated the divinely appointed Third Reich," Caan droned. "Through my efforts, the glory of the Fuhrer and his legions will rise again. My instructions are— my mission is..." His face twisted with confusion. "New York City..."
"Christ, Wacky Street," Remo said, snapping the bonds from Caan's legs. He draped his arm around the pilot's shoulders and lifted him up. "C'mon, kid," he said. "We've got to get out of here."
The pilot flailed in alarm. "I can't leave," he said.
"Sure you can. Just hang on."
But Caan fought him with all his strength. "I was told not to leave! Zoran ordered me," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Come on, screw Zoran," Remo objected. "Just look what he's done to you!"
Caan turned his vacant stare into Remo's face. "I am a Jew," he said matter-of-factly. "It is not my place to question my superiors."
Remo exhaled noisly. "Well, you're not staying here. You can go conscious or unconscious. Pick one."
Then Caan screamed, a blood-curdling shriek.
"Oh, balls," Remo said as the door flung open and four uniformed guards rushed into the room. "Get out of the way," he said to Caan, shoving the pilot into a corner.
He worked them all at once. One slashing hand went to a throat, dropping the soldier on the spot. At the same time, he sent a knee into another man's ribcage, embedding the bones deep in the man's lungs and heart. He smashed a temple with a fast three-finger attack, then flew feet first into the last soldier, collapsing his chest cavity. It was over in seconds. They had all died instantly.