Perhaps, he thought, it was more than time to purchase a new car. And considering that his old Army Colt had fallen into his hands once again, in an odd way he might be ahead of the game.
After all, the poison pill he habitually carried on his person was still being held hostage by Remo Williams. If the word came from the Oval Office to shut down CURE, Harold Smith might have to eat a bullet.
And he would much prefer to end his life with the weapon that had served him so well since his OSS days.
Chapter Four
The Master of Sinanju sat under the Seven Stars with the giant Arizona moon pouring its cool effulgence down upon him.
Many were his burdens. Great was his sorrow. He had guided his adopted son to his lost father at the risk of losing him. Only a deep love had impelled him to take such a grave chance. To Chiun, son of Chiun, grandson of Yi, Reigning Master of Sinanju, glory of the universe, duty to the House was paramount.
To risk losing the greatest pupil the House had ever known was an affront to his ancestors. Had he failed, they would never have forgiven him.
But he hadn't failed. In a strange way he had guided Remo to the very ancestors they both shared. The lost ancestors neither had ever known. There was no shame in this, only sorrow.
But there was still the future to consider.
And so Chiun sat beneath the cold desert stars and wrote the speech on which the future of the House of Sinanju would turn.
Deep in the night, Sunny Joe Roam stole up on him.
Chiun detected him only at the last. It was remarkable. Only another Master of Sinanju could accomplish such a feat. Yet this gangling man with the sad yet kindly eyes and rugged face possessed the talent of stealth that smacked of Sinanju, even though his ways weir the ways of peace.
"Scare you?" Sunny Joe said in his deep, rumbling voice.
"I was deep in my meditations. Otherwise, you would not have taken me unawares."
" What're you writing there, chief?"
"A speech."
Sunny Joe dropped onto the cool sand and faced the Master of Sinanju. "Mind if I read it?"
"You cannot. It is in Korean."
"Then read it to me."
"It is unfinished," Chiun said stiffly.
Sunny Joe looked up. The stars hung like diamond necklaces of such breathtaking clarity they seemed within reach. "Nice night."
"It does not make up for the insufferable days I have spent in this dry and desolate land."
"Desert living doesn't agree with you, I take it?"
"It is not fit for other than serpents and scorpions. I am surprised Kojong saw fit to end his days in such a place."
"Ko Jong Oh, my father once told me, came from a place of cold and bitter seasons. He had journeyed far through snow and ice and year-round winters. Along the way, they say, his marrow froze solid. He vowed then never to end his trail until he came to a place so warm it unfroze his bones to the core. This was the place."
"Your language is not Korean."
"We have words in common."
"The stars in your sky are the same as the stars in my sky."
"Sure. Arizona and Korea are both above the equator."
Chiun pointed to a group of seven stars very low on the horizon. "What is your name for those seven?"
"Those? That's Ursa Major—the Great Bear."
"Do you not have a Sun On Jo name for them?"
"Around here they're called the Seven Squaws."
Chiun made a face. "We call them Ch'il-song, the Seven Stars."
"That's about right, chief."
"Please do not call me 'chief.' You may address me as Ha-ra-bo-ji, which means 'grandfather.' Or you may call me Hymong-min, which means 'elder brother.'"
"What's wrong with 'chief'?"
"I am not your chief but your distant cousin, many many times dislocated."
"Not that many. Ko Jong Oh was your ancestor, as well as mine," Sunny Joe stated.
"Agreed. But he married badly, and the blood we have in common has been diluted. Thus, we are distant cousins."
"If that's the way you see it."
"That is the way I see it. I am Reigning Master. As such, I am paramount among my people. Among my people my word is law."
"Here, since the last chief died a few years back, I've been in charge."
"You are the son of this chief?" Chiun asked.
"No."
"Therefore, you are not the new chief?"
"Nope. Here the chief is the tribal leader. He's descended from Ko Jong Oh, too. But that's different from being a Sunny Joe. The Sunny Joe is taught the ways of Sun On Jo and charged with protecting the tribe. The chief rules it."
"In my village the Master of Sinanju is both chief and protector."
"We do it different here. Ko Jong Oh was the only chief who was also a protector. He wisely saw that if one man were both, his loss would devastate the tribe," Sunny Joe explained.
"Tell me the tales of Kojong as they have come down to you."
"Ko Jong Oh married an Indian woman and had three sons. One died a'borning. The other two grew to manhood. Because he had been exiled from the land of Sun On Jo to avoid a succession fight, he decreed that one of his sons would inherit his mantle of authority while the other would be taught the magical arts of Sun On Jo."
"Ah. Show me some of your Sun On Jo magic."
"Hell, I'm kinda rusty to be doing that stuff now," Sunny Joe answered.
"I am older by far than you, but my eye and my arm and my brain are as sharp as they were when my hair was dark and full."
"Okay." Sunny Joe lifted his right hand, displaying his broad palm. "See this hand?"
"Of course. I am not blind."
Sunny Joe moved his hand closer to Chiun's face. "Watch it."
"I am watching it."
Sunny Joe moved the hand even closer so that it filled Chiun's entire field of vision. "I'm going to tick your earlobe before you can stop me."
"Impossible."
"Not for a Sunny Joe." And Sunny Joe moved his hand even closer.
"Very well. Do your best."
"Are you watching closely?"
"My eaglelike eyes are fixed upon your hamlike hand," Chiun declared.
"Good. Don't look away, because the hand of a Sunny Joe is as swift as the hawk, stealthy as the fox and sharp as an arrow."
"You talk when you should strike."
And the Master of Sinanju realized his left earlobe was stinging.
He blinked. Had he imagined it?
Then the lobe of the offended ear began to go numb.
"You tricked me!" he howled.
Sunny Joe dropped his hand, and a twinkle came into his deep brown eyes. "How?"
"You told me to watch your right hand. You used your left."
"And I used my right to focus your attention so I could slip past your defenses."
"It is a trick!" Chiun objected.
"It's the way of Ko Jong Oh, who legends say used to steal the milk from she-foxes on the run."
"This is not Sinanju."
"No, it's different. Your ways are killing ways. A Sunny Joe knows he doesn't have to kill to conquer a foe. Not when trickery and cunning can get the job done."
"You would make a terrible assassin," Chiun spat.
"Maybe. But as long as there have been Sunny Joes, the tribe has lived unmolested."
"In a desert," Chiun spat.
" People come from all over America to retire in the desert climate. In the dead of winter, Yuma's usually the warmest spot in the nation."
"If one enjoys inhaling sand."
"You're taking this somewhere, aren't you, chief?" Sunny Joe inquired.
"No, I am not."
"Sure you are. C'mon, come clean. What's eating you?"
"You have no chief. You admit this," Chiun argued.
"Right."
"I am the chief of my people."
"So you say."
"Your people are of the same blood as my people."
"We're your poor relations, I guess you could say," Sunny Joe conceded.