"You coming?" Remo asked as he slipped down into the newly made trapdoor.
Chiun frowned. "Will the indignities never cease?"
The two Masters of Sinanju disappeared through the narrow opening. Through the belly of the plane, they made their way to the aft cargo hold.
As SWAT teams stormed the plane above, Remo was standing on an American Tourister suitcase and kicking open the big cargo door. The two men jumped to the ground.
"Welcome to New York," Remo muttered.
A moment later they had vanished amid the growing confusion.
Chapter 6
By midmorning word of the bizarre murders had spread like prairie fire through lower Manhattan. In a city now conditioned for particular types of attack, this was something new.
New York was a target of terror and the home of murder, rape, drive-by shootings, gang wars, pimps, whores, drug dealers and all of the seven deadly sins, plus a million more unknown to theologians. But the one fear New Yorkers had never been prepared for was wholesale cannibalism in Manhattan's steel-and-glass canyons.
So far, more than two hundred people had been affected. As many as that and more were dead. Since the killers seemed to not be in control of their own actions, police had been ordered to use guns as a last resort. The NYPD was armed with Tasers and animal tranquilizers.
Bronx Zoo officials had been brought in as advisers on the capture of the most dangerous of prey: animals with the capacity of human thought.
Although civilian authorities were doing their best to deal with the situation, there was no clue yet as to the cause. By late morning the number of attacks continued to increase with no explanation in sight.
By the time Remo and Chiun arrived by taxi at the Second Avenue home of Vaunted Press they could sense the fear hanging heavy in the air.
The streets were virtually empty. A dozen cruisers had converged on the building six hours earlier. Only two remained. Since early that morning, the isolated incident at Vaunted Press had become epidemic.
The two Masters of Sinanju met not a living soul as they crossed the sidewalk and entered the lobby. They took the elevator to the fourth floor.
"I guess we should have seen this coming," Remo said as the car rose. "Cannibal chic. Probably started in the Village."
Chiun was watching the floor lights. "Do not drag Sinanju into this perversity," he sniffed.
"Different village, Little Father," Remo explained. "And from where I stand, tongue studs and navel piercings are a hop, skip and a jump to rampant workday cannibalism."
"The lesser races have a history of playing at the edge of anarchy," Chiun agreed. "It has always been the yellow man's burden to keep the savages in line. Still, when I pass from this life and join my ancestors in the Great Void, I will now owe my grandfather a gold coin. He always said you Americans would be the first to start eating one another."
"You bet against us?" Remo asked, surprised.
"Of course. There are still French in the world." The elevator doors opened on the lobby of Vaunted Press.
The police officers whose patrol cars were parked downstairs were nowhere to be seen. Sensing a cluster of heartbeats far down the hall, Remo and Chiun struck off in that direction.
They found a group of eight men and women hiding out in a small office. Tense, black-rimmed eyes looked up fearfully when Remo and Chiun entered the room.
"Who are you?" one trembling man asked.
"FBI," Remo said, flashing false ID. "Why are you people still here?"
The man exhaled. "We were witnesses. Most everyone went home, but we had to stay. Then it got worse out there and they advised us to stay put."
Remo stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "You know where it happened?" he asked.
The man nodded. "I was there," he said sickly.
"How about giving us the nickel tour?" Reluctantly the man pushed himself out of his chair. The rest remained behind as he followed Remo and Chiun out into the hallway.
"So what exactly happened here?" Remo asked as they walked down the long hall. The lights were on in all the silent offices they passed.
"I don't really know," the man said. "Four people went crazy this morning. They were like animals. I was lucky to get out alive. Then the police arrived, and we found out it was going on all over town."
"Where are the police now?" Remo asked. "We saw the cruisers downstairs."
"They're around here somewhere. Some of them had to leave on other calls. It's crazy." They had reached a short hall. "Down there," the office worker said, pointing.
Yellow police tape hung at the dead end of the corridor. A few rooms opened onto the hall. Remo and Chiun smelled the heavy scent of human blood in the recirculated air.
Remo lifted the tape for Chiun and the office worker to pass. The man waited outside the first door, averting his eyes. "In there." He pointed.
Remo thought he'd be prepared. After all, he had seen much in his life. But the gruesome scene inside the Vaunted Press break room was far worse than he had expected.
The floor was painted in sticky, drying blood. There were only a few clear spots here and there. Police and morgue attendants had barely been able to navigate across the mess. Dried blood clung to the walls, splattering the refrigerator, coffee area and watercooler.
"Where are the bodies?" Remo called out the door.
"They took them," a voice replied from outside.
"We'll have to take a trip to the morgue, Little Father. The victims might be able to give us a clue." The Master of Sinanju nodded. He was standing in a clear patch, examining the floor with an experimental toe of his sandal. When Remo looked, he saw that Chiun was tracing deep furrows in the linoleum. They looked almost like claw marks.
"What are those?"
"It appears to be the work of an animal," Chiun said. "See the depth of scarring. There was strength behind this blow. You are certain the things that did this were human?"
"People did this, right?" Remo shouted out the door.
"Yes," the Vaunted employee said. "Well, they were people. I don't know what came over them."
"You know if they were hepped up on goofballs? Snorting Liquid Plumr? Anything like that?"
"I don't think so. You could ask them." Frowning, Remo stepped back into the hallway. "I thought they were dead."
The office worker shook his head. "Two of them are. The police had to shoot them. They were like animals. But they captured the others."
"Beats questioning a corpse. I guess our next stop is the police lockup, Chiun."
The Master of Sinanju had just padded out into the hall, a troubled look on his leathery face.
The three men were heading back to the police tape when a low sound caught Remo's attention.
He stopped dead, listening. The Master of Sinanju paused at his side.
"What is it?" the old Korean asked.
After a silent moment, Remo shook his head. "I thought I heard something."
Shrugging, he started up the hall when the soft noise floated to him once more. This time the Master of Sinanju heard it, too. They shared a tight glance.
"What's wrong?" the nervous office worker asked when the two men turned abruptly away from the yellow tape.
"Don't know," Remo said, pitching his voice low.
"But, hey, I've got a fun idea. Why don't you run back as fast as you can and hide with the others?"
The man blinked. "Um..."
"Lock the door," the Master of Sinanju added darkly, his button nose upturned and sniffing the air. The office worker did not need to be told again. He turned and ran, snapping into two neat halves the thin plastic police tape. He was out of sight before the yellow ends had fluttered to the floor.