"So where's it headed?" asked Remo.
"Your guess is as good as mine. But you must stop it."
"It's too big to run off the road, but we'll give it a shot," Remo promised.
"Keep me informed."
the Ohio Turnpike in the wake of the Fist of Allah, saying, "It may be big but it sure isn't fast."
"We will stop the monster," Chiun said firmly.
Accelerating, Remo came up to the machine's rump, hung there pacing it while he said, "You can jump out and climb aboard, then I'll stop in front of it and do my thing."
"Stop in front of it. Then we will both step out with the serene dignity we deserve and do our awesome things."
"Suit yourself," said Remo, angling the wheel and nailing the accelerator to the floor.
the speeding sedan race around on his side of the Fist of Allah and gave the wheel a jerk to the left.
Seeing this, Jihad Jones gave his wheel a jerk to the right.
"What are you doing?" Yusef complained. "I have the wheel."
"I am trying to keep us on our Allah-blessed trajectory."
"And I am trying to squash an infidel bug."
Too late. The sedan pulled up alongside him and got in front.
"You may squash him now," said Jihad Jones, relinquishing his wheel.
Up ahead, the car braked, slewing to a stop, blocking the way, its tires smoking. The doors opened, and two men popped out.
"Those infidels are crazy. They think they can stop the Fist of Allah's wrath?"
"Squash them like the godless bugs that they are!" Jihad Jones exploded.
a position before the Fist of Allah like two matadors facing the bull of bulls.
"When they get close, break away and grab your side of that thing while I grab mine," Remo suggested. "Then we'll nail the guys inside."
Chiun nodded. "Yes. This is a sound plan."
And it almost worked.
The monster of plated steel rumbled toward them, and Remo broke left while Chiun slipped off to the right in a flutter of ebony skirts.
There were enough projections on the angular and irregular surfaces of the Fist of Allah that grabbing a handy one was no problem.
Remo got ready. Lifting his feet off the speeding asphalt, he grabbed a jutting projection and started to climb.
Partway up, he knew something was wrong.
His vision started to cloud over, and his arms began to tingle. A numbness crept down his body like a slow-acting poison.
Fear touching his eyes, Remo looked up and saw the yellow disk with the three black triangles he knew from childhood fallout-shelter drills emblazoned on a sealed hatch.
This thing was as radioactive as Chernobyl, he thought just before his grip gave way.
a point of crushing flat the car that had dared to block the path of righteousness, then settled down for the long drive east.
"You have the map?" he asked Jihad Jones.
"Yes. I am studying it now."
"Where do we go, then?"
"We follow this turnpike to Route 79 south, there. See?"
Yusef looked over. "Yes. I see. Then what?"
"Then we take the 80 to Wayne, New Jersey. Then south to Jersey City. From there, it is a short drive to our ordained target."
"What is our ordained target, O brother?"
"Well, right now it's following the Ohio Turnpike east."
"One moment."
Harold Smith brought up a map of the continental U.S. and created a red blip that signified the Fist of Allah.
He input its probable speed, trajectory and commanded Ms system to extrapolate likely targets of national significance, as well as times of impact.