"We've got to stop hanging out in dives," Remo said. "You okay?"
"I'm alive." Kim managed a faint smile. "But I do have this uncontrollable desire to be back on dry land."
"No problem," Remo said. "Just lean back and relax." Locking his arms around her, he let the tide carry them both back to shore. He lifted her out of the pounding surf and carried her over the slippery rocks, finally putting her naked body down gently on the dunes above.
"I thought we were dead for sure," she said, staring at him. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Get us out of that cave swimming against the current. It's impossible to do that."
"I did it with mirrors," Remo said.
"You're impossible," she said with a small laugh. She slipped her arms around Remo's neck, clinging tight. Even though the night air was balmy, he could feel her shivering.
"We'd better get back," Remo said. "I think we've had enough vacation for one day. Anyway, I don't know what the dress code is around here but I don't think a well-placed hand and a couple of clam shells are going to count for too much."
"I'm ready to go back," Kim said quietly. Her teeth were chattering and her smooth skin was pebbled with goose bumps.
With his arm around her trembling shoulders, Remo led her along the dark deserted beach. There were lights on in the condominium. Chiun sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in one of the scrolls. As Remo shepherded Kim through the open French doors, Chiun looked up and said, "Usually I prefer that people who visit wear clothing. Particularly whites."
"We were in one of the caves down the beach," said Remo. "The tide came in and trapped us there. Swimming out was close."
Chiun shook his head. "I heard that those caves were treacherous. A number of people have drowned there, usually people who have not paid the proper amount of attention to their surroundings. People easily distracted by trivial things."
He folded his hand across his narrow chest. "I'm not criticizing, you understand. I never criticize. It is one of my truly outstanding qualities that no matter how stupid you are, I never tell you about it."
"You just keep not telling me about it," Remo said. "I've got to do something." He slipped into the bathroom and came out with a towel wrapped around his middle and a fluffy white terrycloth robe in his arms. It had the condo resort emblem on the pocket and was five sizes too large for Remo. The management had sent it over after Remo's impromptu landscaping of the aloe garden. Kim moved out from behind the thin gauze curtain where she had been hiding and slipped it on. It looked on her like an unpegged tent but somehow Remo thought it made her look gorgeous.
Chiun was still explaining how he never criticized stupid Remo for being stupid, acting stupidly, living his life in a stupid fashion.
"Chiun, this is Kim Kiley."
"Nice to meet you," said Kim. Along with the pleasantry, she gave Chiun one of the megawatt smiles that melted the hearts of moviegoers around the world.
"Of course it's nice to meet me," Chiun replied in Korean. He inclined his head a scant eighth of an inch. In Sinanju, it was the form of greeting used to acknowledge the presence of lepers, tax collectors and traffickers in day-old fish heads. It acknowledged their presence but completely ignored their existence. A fine point of Sinanju etiquette that was not lost on Remo.
Remo cleared his throat. "I thought since we've got plenty of room, we could put up Kim for a few days. You'd hardly notice she was here."
"I would notice she was here. And more important, so would you," Chiun said, shaking his head. "This is not a good thing. We cannot have her staying with us."
"We were just talking about your well-known generosity," Remo said.
"That's the trouble with being generous," Chiun said. "Everyone wants to take advantage of you. You give a little here, a little there and suddenly you have nothing left and you are out in the street with a frayed robe and a beggar bowl."
"Kim is from Hollywood," Remo said. "She's a movie star."
Chiun looked up with heightened interest. "Were you ever in As the Planet Revolves?" he asked.
"Ugggh. A soap? No, I was never in a soap." Chiun pursed his lips in distaste at her distaste.
"Do you know Barbra Streisand?" he asked, mentioning his favorite American woman.
"No. Not really."
"Do you know Cheeta Ching?" Chiun asked, mentioning his favorite television personality.
"No," Kim said.
"Do you know Rad RexP" Chiun asked, mentioning the name of his favorite soap-opera star.
"Sure," Kim said. "He's a fag."
In Korean, Chiun said, "Remo, get this imposter out of here." He looked down again at his scrolls.
Remo said, "I'd better get you a room, Kim."
"I'd rather stay with you," she said.
Remo shrugged. "I'm sorry but Chiun doesn't think that's a good idea."
"Do you always do what he says?"
"Most of the time," Remo said.
"Why?"
"Because most of the time he's right."
"I never heard of a servant who was right," Kim Kiley said.
"Chiun's not a servant."
"I thought he was. Chinese butlers are all the rage on the coast right now. They're such hard workers and you can usually get them at minimum wage. And they're really decorative and cute, padding around the house like little yellow gnomes. Do you think your friend would be interested in domestic work?"
"No." Remo grinned. "I don't think so." He tried to picture Chiun maneuvering the Electrolux over the carpet, taking out the trash, passing out a tray of canapes at a cocktail party. It seemed very improbable and when he glanced toward Chiun, the old Korean mouthed the words for "Out. Get her out of here."
"I'd better see about your room," said Remo. He pressed a buzzer in the wall and waited and in less than a minute, three men in white with red sashes around their waists appeared at the French doors. They looked nervous because they were nervous. They had waited on Remo before.
"You rang, sir?" all called in unison.
"Right. I need a room for Miss Kiley here."
"A room, sir?"
"Yes, a room. You know, one of those things with four walls."
The three knew that there weren't any rooms. Not only here at the Del Ray Bahamia but on the whole island itself. This was the height of the tourist season and there weren't any rooms. There was an oversized utility closet up on the third floor, but they didn't want to think about what would happen if they offered this man an oversized utility closet.
There was only one vacant lodging in the whole complex-the senator's suite. The senator's suite was furnished with priceless antiques and the walls were covered with Rembrandts, Van Goghs and Picassos. It had its own wine cellar and Jacuzzi.
The senator allowed no one into his permanent suite, not even the local help. He sent his own German cleaning woman down once a week by Lear jet to dust off the priceless Ming vases and fluff the pillows. If they put this woman in the senator's suite and he found out about it, they would all lose their jobs, have their tax returns audited and go to jail for the rest of their lives. But if they told Remo no ... They remembered the wall and the desk he had thrown through the window.
The senator was in Washington and the cleaning woman wasn't due for five more days. "We'll put her in the senator's suite," the three said in unison.
Remo smiled. "That sounds good."
"It is good. It is the very best we have."
"I'm starved too," said Kim. "I'd like something to eat."
"Anything you want, miss."
"A filet mignon. Rare. If there isn't a little blood on the plate, I'll know it's been overcooked. And I'd like a baked potato with that, sour cream and a big salad with bleu-cheese dressing. Send a bottle of burgundy along too. The older the better."