"Nothing? How will I make money?"
"You will make money on the concessions," said Mr. Gordons. "But it is important that large numbers of people pass through Larryland."
"Larryland? I was going to call it Lepperland."
"Lepperland has an unfortunate connotation," pointed out Mr. Gordons, whose voice now crackled from the Buster Bear statue as Larry made his rounds. Larry quickly got used to the voice coming from different places. He had worked in a fantasy world so long that nothing surprised him. Not even the fact that the entire park was a thinking android.
"I had my heart set on Lepperland," he complained. "Names are important. I learned this in my last occupation. "
"What was that?" Larry asked, curious. "I was a car wash."
"You mean, you worked in a car wash."
"No," said Mr. Cordons. "I was the car wash."
"Oh."
And because Mr. Gordons had provided Larry Lepper with his dream, Larry had not complained or objected. He had rushed out to place ads in the newspapers so that when the first rush of families came, he was all set to greet them in his Buster Bear suit.
That had been just one hectic day before. Now Larry was taking a break from being Buster Bear and enjoying the view from his private tower.
"Ah, what could possibly go wrong now?" Larry said aloud.
The voice of Mr. Gordons came from the air-conditioning vent. "There is trouble in Larryland, Larry Lepper," it said.
"What trouble?" Larry asked, bringing his face close to the vent.
"Several men are coming in through the entrance, carrying automatic weapons."
Larry looked down. Lines of cars stretched out from the parking lot like beetles on a conveyor belt. Cars honked impatiently. And across the tops of a string of vehicles stomped several men in gaudy tourist clothes.
They pushed their way through the crowd. They carried beach towels and Larry didn't have to guess as to what the towels concealed. He knew from the two-handed way the towels were carried, one hand under and the other on top, holding the towels in place.
"What do I do?" demanded Larry Lepper.
"Find out what they want. It is imperative that there be no disruption in the functioning of this theme park."
"My thinking exactly," said Larry Lepper resolutely. Larry Lepper donned his oversize Buster Bear head and waddled down the winding steps, his heart in his mouth. He wondered if the Mafia had come to demand a piece of the Larryland action.
Anna Chutesov was surrounded.
She stood in a sea of children, trying to isolate the radio transmission. It was important that she stay in one place long enough to get one leg of the signal. The children milled around her and it only made her acutely aware of the horror that was masked under the harlequin name of Larryland. How many of them, she wondered, would never develop into puberty because of this innocent day in the sun?
When a little girl skipped by, bumping Anna's head with a Buster Bear balloon, Anna turned on her with the fury born of frustration.
"Go away!" she hissed. "Can you not see that I am doing something important?"
The little girl stopped, looked stunned, and rushed off crying, "Mommy, Mommy."
Anna Chutesov returned to her radio locator, biting her lip. Every moment she was delayed finding the Sword of Damocles, more parents, more children, would be exposed to its microwaves. Somewhere, Anna knew, the satellite was doing its insidious work. But where? Which of these rides was stripping those who walked through it of the ability to bear children?
Anna got her first fix, and locking it into the optical viewer, started for the other end of the park.
She didn't get there. She dropped the locator, breaking it. She was looking at the object of her search.
It was a great palace of crystal and chrome. The neon sign in front said MOON WALK. It was the largest building in the park and set near the back. It had the biggest lines, which snaked around a series of posts and lines designed to keep the crowds in place. It was also the only exit from Larryland.
"How diabolical," Anna Chutesov said, hush-voiced. "In order for the people to leave, they must go through the Moon Walk. It is there that I will find what I seek."
Anna found Rshat Kirlov at an ice-cream stand trying to balance a double-scooped pistachio-nut cone. "Fool," she said, knocking the cone from his hand.
"I was hungry," Colonel Rshat Kirlov whined.
"Never mind. I think I have found the object of my search."
"I will have my men assemble for the assault."
"Let us pray such a moronic measure will be unnecessary," Anna said. "Deploy your men around the attraction called the Moon Walk. Do not-repeat, do not-let them enter. I am going inside. Alone. If I do not return at the end of twenty minutes, you will send in your two best men. Tell them they are to look for what appears to be a satellite. They are not to be fooled by appearances of frivolity. If they see such an object, they are to destroy it at all costs. If the first pair do not return, send in the next, and so on until success."
"I understand."
"No, you do not. You are taking orders and you are obeying them. Understanding is not your function."
"What happens, Comrade Chutesov, if none of my men return from this place?"
"You will go to the Soviet consulate in the city of Los Angeles. It is the large city to the north. Tell them that the Sword is inside that building."
"The sword?"
"The Sword," repeated Anna Chutesov. "Now, instruct your men. The twenty minutes begin when you see me walk through the entrance to the Moon Walk attraction. "
Anna Chutesov did not get into the long line leading to the Moon Walk. There was no time. Every delay would sterilize that many more people walking through the building. She struggled through the crowd and hopped a low concrete obstruction until she was near the head of the line. She stepped ahead of the first in line, a family of four. She wanted to warn them, but who would believe her?
Anna did not argue with the teenage boy who controlled the doors. She smiled glassily, and while the boy sputtered something about not breaking in line, Anna led him around to the side wall and squeezed his neck until he lay dead. She wished she did not have to kill him, but it was his life against that of thousands of unborn generations. Without an operator, no one could enter the Moon Walk until Anna Chutesov had neutralized its evil function.
"I smell Russians," said the Master of Sinanju.
Remo Williams paused. They had just made their way past the Buster Bear entrance gate. The crowds seemed too packed to allow passage, but Chiun told Remo to follow his lead.
The crowd probably never understood why they parted before the tiny Oriental in the white brocade kimono. Some felt an itch and moved aside to scratch it. Others felt pressure against their backs, but when they looked back, they saw nothing.
Thus it had gone until Remo had discovered himself deep within the gaiety of Larryland.
He sniffed the air. "Yeah. I smell them too," he said. Long ago, the Master of Sinanju had taught him that all people gave off distinctive odors, a mixture of body chemistry and diet. Although all these personal odors were unique, they could be categorized according to dietary influences. There was the distinctive curry-spice aroma of the East Indian, the hamburger smell of the American, and so on. Russians usually smelled of black bread and potato soup.
"There," said Chiun, pointing.
Remo saw two men in Hawaiian shirts standing about uncomfortably, towels held at hip level.
"Think they have guns?" Remo asked.
"They will need them. They reek of suspicion."
"Anna must have beat us to the punch, Little Father."
"Perhaps," said the Master of Sinanju distantly. He was not watching the Russians. He was scanning the park, looking for the most probable hiding place of the Sword of Damocles. He dismissed the tallest structure-a large tower-because he sensed no energy emanating from it. The Squirrel Girl wheel was too open. There was no place amid its skeletal works to conceal a spherical object. That left the walk-in attractions.