"What the hell, Chiun," said Remo. "This way is faster."
He began to run.
Zhava burst into the Zabari home as Mrs. Zabari was lighting the Sabbath candles. Zhava was dusty and out of breath. As she staggered in, Yoel and his four children looked up from the table.
They had just finished dessert and the children's faces were flushed with satisfaction and pride. For their father's work today during the Remembrance services had been well received.
"What is it?" asked Yoel. "What is the matter?"
Zhava stared at the Sabbath candles. She remembered from her lessons as a child that the eight candles, lit every Friday, represented peace, freedom, and the light that radiates from the human soul.
Zhava's eyes turned to the children. Blond, dark-eyed Daphna, who would make a fine ballerina one day. Eight-year-old Dov, whose hope for peace touched everyone he met. Stephen, the athlete, the fighter, the believer in an ultimate truth. And Melissa, stepping from childhood into being a woman. A whole woman in a world of fragmented femininity.
Zhava saw the looks on their faces and the innocence in their eyes, remembering why she had come here. She thought of what Tochala Delit was planning to do. It must not happen. She could not let it.
She felt the warm hand of Shula, Mrs. Zabari, on her arm, and saw the concerned face of Yoel Zabari.
"You must come," she said breathlessly. "It is important."
Zabari looked deep into her eyes. He turned to look at the Sabbath candles. He turned to his wife, who stood, asking silent questions. He turned to his children, who had already forgotten Zhava's entrance and were entertaining themselves at the table. Dov had put one spoon on top of another and now brought his hand down. One spoon served as a catapult and the other spoon flipped end over end until Dov caught it in mid-air. He smiled. Daphna applauded.
"Yes," said Yoel. "I will come. Now?"
Zhava nodded.
"Excuse me, my dear," he said, brushing his wife's cheek with the ravaged right side of his face. She smiled warmly. "Excuse me, children, I will be back soon," he said waving at the table.
"Aw, Dad, do you have to?" said Stephen.
Zabari nodded sadly, then looked up at the ceiling. "Excuse me, Lord." After all, it was the Sabbath.
Yoel Zabari went with Zhava.
"Are we going back to the labyrinth of pipes so that you can get lost again?" asked Chiun.
"Not this time," said Remo. "I'm rolling now."
They continued running. Remo's strides were long, even, and smooth, as if he were walking along a moving conveyor belt. Certainly not as if he were struggling across the sands of a desert. His arms moved easily at his sides, in rhythm with the drumming of his legs.
Chiun's hands, however, were deep in the sleeves of his red and black kimono, his skirt-like train billowing behind him. The hem always just touched the desert sand. He was arched slightly forward and slicing across the air like a thrown knife. He never seemed to move his legs because his kimono remained back in the wind, uninterrupted by any forward movement.
"Remo," Chiun said, "I would like to say that you have acted most wisely."
Remo stumbled. Struggling to regain his stride, he managed to speak. "Thank you, Little Father."
"Yes, my son," Chiun intoned, "training is not knowledge and knowledge is not strength, but combine training with knowledge and then you will have strength."
"Believe it or not, Chiun, I know that," Remo said.
The two continued across the deepening horizon.
"What I want to say, Remo, is that you are behaving as a Master should."
Remo was pleased. He stood straighter, his eyes took in the sky, and his stride grew wider and stronger. This was indeed his day.
"Thank you," he said. "I can't say how much…"
"Except," continued Chiun, "that you jump badly, you cannot drive, and you are insulting. You behave like a Master who is insulting and weak."
"You old faker," said Remo. "You set me up for that." Remo tried to race ahead, but Chiun matched his speed, foot for foot.
And his voice continued as clear as a desert breeze.
"You have not sent the Norman Lear, Norman Lear message. You begrudge a man his simple pleasures. You do not clean your mess. You are a litterbug. You…"
Remo and Chiun continued across the sand, side by side.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The first perimeter guard had been surprised when the car on the main access road to the Zeher Lahurban sulphur plant stopped and Tochala Delit himself poked his head out.
The second perimeter guard had been stunned, and the third astonished. They had all found it unusual that Tochala Delit himself should be in the car alone and that his clothing was so heavy on so hot a day, but if Tochala Delit himself found it necessary, then it must have been necessary.
And if Tochala Delit himself said that no one else should be allowed in, then no one else would be allowed in. And if Tochala Delit himself said not even the prime minister, then not even the prime minister. And if Tochala Delit himself instructed that these orders were to be followed implicitly, then the three guards would be pleased and honored to lay down their lives for those orders.
But Tochala Delit himself acted strangely today, didn't he?
Tochala Delit himself entered the heart of the nuclear installation through a simple metal door, which he locked behind him.
He stood in the low, metal-reinforced concrete hallway sloping deep down to the room with no exit. He patted his inside jacket pocket for the hundredth time that afternoon. The layers of clothing and the hard, thin box were still there, giving him strength.
Thirty years. Thirty years, and now the end was in sight. But thirty years was a long time. Tochala Delit was an old man now. The man who had been Horst Vessel thought about his life. He felt warm blood flow in his veins again. He saw the twisted bodies of the people he had killed in the name of purity. He heard their cries, their screams, their prayers, their ranting. And now, to end like this. Riding the tip of a nuclear-powered mushroom cloud. Because whatever the bomb did not destroy, the surviving Arabs would. Israel was doomed.
Horst Vessel filled his lungs with the stuffy air and felt the salty beads of excitement on his brow. At that moment he would not have changed places with anyone on earth.
Remo took the first perimeter fence like a hurdler. Chiun followed like a parachute toy that one puffs into the air and it floats to the ground.
"We have entered a different part of the field,"
Chiun said. "We now stand on explosive ground."
"Mine field," said Remo. "I was wondering why the ground seemed different."
"Good," said Chiun. "You remain wondering, and I will see you in the kingdom of Heaven. Be sure to greet my ancestors for me."
"Come on," said Remo. "We don't have much time."
"Let us go quickly then," said Chiun, "for if you walk as badly as you jump, we are both doomed."
They moved across the sand with the combined weight of a tablespoon of whipped cream.
Coming to the second perimeter, the infrared fence, Chiun motioned to Remo ahead.
"Let us see if you have learned anything," he said.
Remo hopped over as easily as if he were taking a step. Chiun followed suit.
"Wonderful," said Chiun, "you now rank with the grasshopper, which jumps well."
"I'm sorry I opened my mouth," Remo said.
"So am I," said Chiun.
Since the area was barren and neither of them had tripped an alarm, their paths were uncrossed by blazing lead or flaming missiles. They easily transversed the third perimeter, and soon Remo and Chiun stood among the spiraling machinery of the sulphur plant.
"So here we are," said Remo. "See any atomic bombs laying around?"
Chiun stood implacable, looking like an ancient cog in a giant machine.