They emerged at the end of the building. A door led off to one side, back in the direction of the car track. "Probably leads to the exit," Remo said.
"The man in the booth may be there," said Anna. "And the satellite. I am sure he is making the machinery attack us."
Remo turned to Chiun. "What do you think, Little Father?"
Chiun listened. "I hear no heartbeats. just water dripping. "
"Then let's go," Remo said, reaching for the doorknob.
"No!" said Anna Chutesov. "Let me go first."
"Why?"
"It is too late for me. But you have not been affected. I will go first."
"Affected?" Remo said.
"The woman speaks wisdom," said Chiun. "She will go first."
Remo shrugged. "Then she goes first. But let's pick up the pace. I haven't got all day."
Anna unlatched the safety to her automatic, gripped the door with her other hand, and set herself. The door flew open and she was through it in a smooth leap. Her heels clicked on the opposite side.
"See anything?" Remo asked.
"No," Anna said in a small voice. "It is gone. Gone."
Remo went to step over the threshold, but Chiun tugged him back by the sleeve.
"I am next. I will tell you if it is safe."
The Master of Sinanju sniffed the air carefully before venturing forth. Remo waited. He knew that sniffing the air was the last resort of a Master of Sinanju when facing the unknown. It was a legacy from the days when Masters traveled through faraway lands, often encountering unknown carnivores along the way.
Chiun went through. In a moment he called for Remo to follow.
Remo found Chiun and Anna staring at the ceiling. Strutwork dangled brokenly. It was clear that something, not long ago, had hung from the ceiling, but had been twisted loose.
"There was something there, all right," Remo admitted.
"See?" Anna said triumphantly. "I told you. And there, that is the booth where the man with the sinister voice called to me."
"What did he say to you?" Remo asked.
"He said, 'Have a nice day.'"
"Gosh, that's sinister, all right," Remo said. "I'll ask Smitty to put out an all-points bulletin. Charge him with inciting to have a pleasant day. He could get twenty years for that."
"It was the way he said it," Anna insisted.
Remo stepped over to the grimy booth and rubbed his fingers against the glass. Some gunk came off in his hands, but the other side was just as dirty and he couldn't see clearly.
"Funny," he said. "This place is as new as a penny, all except for the dirt on this thing."
"The owner's booth," Anna told him. "He did not wish to be seen, the fiend."
"The demon car washer," Remo said. "I don't buy it."
"How do you explain the machines that attacked us?"
"Malfunction," said Remo.
"And the booby traps?"
"The owner has a thing against trespassers," said Remo, less confidently.
"Fool," said Anna Chutesov. But even her scorn did not faze Remo Williams.
Remo pulled back his hand and hit the glass with an open palm. The glass shivered, hung in place as spiderweb cracks radiated from the point of impact, and then fell in shards so fine it was as if the glass had turned to sugar.
There was a control board on the other side, Remo saw, and the entire booth appeared to be occupied by it. There was no space in which a human being could sit. Indeed, no seat. Just a steel well lined with cables and connective devices.
"You say there was somebody in this booth?" Remo asked.
"I saw his shadowed outline through the glass," Anna insisted.
"Have a look," Remo offered.
Anna stepped carefully. When she saw that the confines of the booth could contain a human being only if he had no lower body, she turned a pale greenish white and stumbled off to a corner, where she sank to the ground, unmindful of the grease stains her clothing soaked up.
Remo yanked handfuls of thick cable until they snapped apart. The sound of the frantic machinery ceased immediately. He turned to Chiun.
"Did you see the outline too, Little Father?"
"Would you think me mad if I said yes?" asked Chiun.
"No."
"I did."
"That's crazy!" Remo blurted.
"Liar!" Chiun said.
"Okay, I'm sorry. It just doesn't add up."
"It's diabolical," said Anna. "Where can it be? What can he be doing with it?"
"I think Anna's starting to lose it, Little Father. Listen to her."
"You listen to her. I am disappointed that I have found no one on whom to avenge my honor." And he kicked at a wall until the bricks tore loose from their mortar. After Chiun had a pile, he stamped the bricks with his sandaled feet until a fine powder resulted.
"Feel better now?" asked Remo.
"No," replied the Master of Sinanju.
"I didn't think so," said Remo, offering Anna Chutesov a hand. "Let's all get out of here. There's nothing more to this shell."
They walked out the back and around to the car. Before they got to it, the windshield fell out in pieces and the hood popped up.
"Uh-oh," said Remo. "We're in trouble."
"Sniper," cried Anna, diving for shelter behind the car.
"That too," said Remo, looking around. "But I was thinking of what Smitty is going to say. That's his car." A tire exploded, and one side of the car sprouted a string of neat black holes like notes on a musical scale. On the ground, Anna clung to handfuls of grass and wondered what was keeping Remo and Chiun from joining her in safety.
In the budding top of an oak tree, Earl Armalide emptied an M16 rifle into the car until he knew it was undrivable.
He dropped the weapon, which swung free from a lanyard attached to his belt, and unshipped his AutoMag pistol from its shoulder holster. He decided to take out the tall skinny one first. His head represented the cleanest shot.
Armalide fired one round. He was so sure of his aim that he didn't pause to look. He assumed his target had gone down, and adjusted his sights to the second target, the little Oriental in the Pee Wee Herman suit. A second shot blasted out.
Earl looked for the girl next. She must have sought shelter behind the car. No problem. An AutoMag round could go through an engine block. He brought the pistol back up to his face, but in doing so noticed that there were no bodies on the ground.
Now, where had those two kills gone? They couldn't have dragged themselves behind anything. A .44 slug had the stopping power to nail a kill to the ground, even if death wasn't instant which it usually was. Yet there were no blood tracks or drag marks in the grass.
Earl Armalide had chosen this particular oak tree because it was solid and had a large crown of branches. There wasn't much leafage to the branches this early in the spring, but there were enough green buds to help his camouflaged body blend in. It was also high enough that he could pick off anyone attempting to climb the tree after him.
The tree, all four feet in circumference of it, shook suddenly.
Earl Armalide was sure it was an earthquake until he looked down.
Looking back up at him from the base of the tree were the upturned faces of his two kills. But they weren't dead. They were alive. In fact, the tall one with the dead-looking eyes smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Ollie, ollie oxen free," the tall one called playfully.
"Eat this, sucker," Earl spat back. And then he fired into that grinning face.
The bullet split a half-buried rock where the man had been standing. The tree shook again. More violently this time. Earl had to clutch at the tree trunk just to hold on. Sap made his fingers sticky and he cursed. That stuff could jam a fine weapon like the AutoMag in no time. He switched hands.
"Why do you not come down?" asked a high squeaky voice.
Earl looked down at the Oriental and shot at his face. The oak shook again. Although the Oriental had not seemed to move, he was suddenly standing in a different spot. Unharmed.