More voices.
There were other men coming in his direction. Chiun prepared himself for another assault.
There was a sudden short burst of gunfire on the other side of the hangar. The men coming toward him grew distracted, running back in the other direction toward the new sound. Muffled, wet thuds met them. Then all was silent.
In the next instant Chiun saw a flash of movement atop the hangar. When he looked up, he saw Remo crouching on the flat rooftop.
"Before you blame me, it wasn't my fault," Remo whispered.
"No," Chiun agreed, his expression stern. "It is my fault for being foolish enough to listen to you."
"Fine with me. As long as we've got the blame thing settled."
Chiun frowned with his entire face. "Get out of the way, General Patton."
As Remo ducked back, Chiun bounded up onto the roof next to him. Red kimono skirts settled around pipe-stem legs.
"How many did you get?" Remo said as they slid stealthily away from the edge of the roof.
"Two."
"Three for me. I took out a couple more from up here. Aside from Conrad Siegfried downstairs, that should be it."
Chiun stopped dead. "Siegfried? Who told you that was his name?" he demanded. The look in his hazel eyes was furiously intent.
Remo was taken aback by Chiun's jarring attitude change.
"No one," he said. "It was just a joke."
The old man eyed his pupil with suspicion. Detecting no visible deceit on Remo's part, he at last nodded.
"Very well."
Chiun began moving away across the roof. Remo hurried to keep up.
"What was that all about?"
"There is no time for idle conversation, O Plan King. In case you have forgotten, we are standing atop a giant boom device. We must find a way inside that does not result in our untimely arrival in the Void."
As they slid along the steel roof, Remo spied what looked like a square hatch near the rear of the building. He touched Chiun on the sleeve.
"I have a plan," he said with a smile.
MICHTLER DIDN'T WANT to think about what was going on outside. He'd heard the gunfire to his right a few minutes before.
He immediately dropped to the wooden floor, covering his head in his meaty hands.
He didn't care how foolish he looked, nor did he consider the utter pointlessness of this gesture of selfpreservation, given the amount of explosives that were stored around him.
The gunfire ended abruptly. It was proceeded by an even more frightening calm.
No one came to tell him that the two men were dead.
Michtler climbed unsteadily to his feet. He glanced up at the far rear wall of the hangar. A single red light shone down out of the darkness. Beyond it was the trapdoor to the roof.
Turning away from the light, he looked back toward the entrance.
Until the actual moment his Luger was ripped painfully from his huge hand, Michtler had no way of knowing that Remo and Chiun had slipped into the hangar through the office door during the split second he had turned away.
"I still say we should have used the roof door," Remo complained.
"Need I remind you that, had this pastry-fed Hun managed to fire a single shot, we would be having this argument in the company of my ancestors?" the Master of Sinanju declaimed, as if affronted by the mere idea.
It took the big German a moment to realize what was going on. Like a great lumbering dinosaur, Michtler turned on the intruders. He sent a huge fist toward Remo's head. There was a horrid sound of crunching bone. Again it was another moment before Michtler realized that the noise hadn't come from the skull of the man he thought he had just punched but rather from his own hand.
The German howled in pain as he stuffed the fist with its four shattered fingers into the safe haven beneath his left armpit. He dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. The boards creaked beneath him.
Hands tied tightly behind her, Helene watched the drama playing out before her in amazement. "How-?" she gasped once Michtler was subdued.
"Clean living, baby. By the by, do you actually get paid for this spy stuff?" he asked as he tossed the German's gun out the hangar door. "You're really bad at it." He wrenched apart the ropes that bound her to the chair.
It was as if she hadn't heard him.
"There are not enough bombs here," Helene announced, standing. Her face was urgent.
"There's plenty for me," Remo replied.
"No. There was much more than this stolen from the bases," she insisted. "This is only a fraction of what is missing."
"You're admitting they were stolen now, hmm?" Remo said with a superior smile.
"We must get back to France at once," Helene insisted. She glanced from Remo to Chiun, hoping the men shared her sense of urgency.
When she looked at Chiun, she saw that the Master of Sinanju was peering up into the distant corner of the large room where the single red light glowed from the shadows:
"We are being observed," the old man said. Remo glanced up at the stationary camera on the wall. He had felt the hum of electronic equipment upon entering the building but had been too preoccupied with Helene and Michtler to locate the source. The single red eye peered angrily at them.
Remo turned his attention back to Hans. "Okay, Colonel Klink, who's running-?"
He never had a chance to complete the thought. There was another hum of electronic equipment from somewhere beneath their feet. All four of them heard a single metallic click, followed by a steady hiss.
An oily yellow mist began seeping up through dozens of knotholes in the pitted wooden floorboards. The short hairs on Remo's exposed forearms telegraphed the danger before the mist reached their small group.
"Mustard gas!" Remo snapped. Chiun had sensed the hazard, as well.
"If you wish to save that one, you must hurry," he said sharply. With that the Master of Sinanju hauled Helene up off the floor. Dodging bursts of the deadly chemical agent, he raced toward the open hangar door.
The largest cloud had poured up through a hole near the kneeling Hans. His eyes bulged as he clawed at his constricting throat.
Remo was forced to reach in through the cloud to grab the big German. He immediately felt an intense burning sensation on the flesh of his bare forearm.
Pulling Hans free of the mist, Remo held him at arm's length as he raced out the door.
CHIUN WAS a hundred yards away from the hangar before he even began to slow down. When he sensed that they were free of the danger zone, he turned, depositing Helene on the grassy field. Remo ran across the tarmac to meet him.
As he ran, Remo's body worked double-time to slough the deadly toxin from his skin. By the time he reached the others, he was in no danger. Even so, the area where the chemical had touched flesh was a bright cherry color.
"You are well?" Chiun asked, concerned.
"I'll be okay," Remo said. "Which is more than I can say for him."
Hans Michtler was dead, his fat tongue jutting from between thick lips. Remo dropped the German's body to the grass.
"That is an unspeakable evil," Chiun intoned, nodding to the open door of the hangar. The mustard gas was seeping out in small dribbles, catching pockets of wind before swirling away across the grassy plains. "It interferes with breathing."
"That's putting it mildly, Little Father."
"My phone!" Helene said suddenly. "It is inside!"
She made a move back toward the hangar. Remo restrained her. "Are you insane?" he asked. "You'll have to wait for the gas to clear."
"But I must warn France," she insisted. "There are many more bombs still unaccounted for."
"Use the radio on the boat."
By the look on her face it was obvious that Helene had forgotten about the boat. Wordlessly she spun around and began racing back toward the cliff and its long, zigzagging staircase.