He didn't have time to read it in full. Grabbing one side of the case, he pushed. It rolled to one side, revealing a long set of stairs.
Remo shot a glance at the Master of Sinanju. "One of us really should stay out here," he said.
Chiun nodded crisply. "Agreed," the old man said. Hiking up his kimono skirts, he started for the stairs.
"Whoa, Nellie," Remo said. "I meant you."
"Who is Reigning Master?" Chiun sniffed.
They were both surprised by Remo's answer. "Me," he said firmly. It was an instant before he realized he'd misspoken. "I mean you," he corrected. "But you can't always be pulling rank like that all the time."
Chiun remained frozen in place, a single sandal toe on the top step of the hidden staircase. He seemed to be waiting for his pupil to say something more.
"No," the old man agreed slowly, after Remo's silence had gone on more than a questioning heartbeat. "I cannot. Nor can I stop you if you choose to tag along on this misadventure of your creation. But I am going."
With that he floated like a wraith down the dark stairs.
Remo watched his bald head descend.
There was something in the moment that had just passed. Something small yet momentous. But for Remo it was like wrestling a shadow. He just couldn't grab on.
And then it was gone.
Shucking off a bout of momentary confusion, Remo's face steeled. With certain steps he hurried down the stairs after the Master of Sinanju.
ANNA WAS TICKING off the seconds in her head.
It had been two minutes since Feyodov's man announced the countdown. That meant there were only three left.
The world had not yet learned the truth of any of this. All the proof she needed was the fact that Barkley was not yet a radioactive crater. She would not have thought it possible but, remarkably, cooler heads were prevailing.
But the fact that no missiles had yet been launched would soon matter not. It would all be over once Feyodov shot down another American space shuttle. At that point the simmering pot would boil over.
If she could only find a way to stop him.
She glanced over her shoulder. The instant she did so, the men guarding her raised their rifles a hair. She turned away. "Idiots," Anna muttered.
It was hopeless. Her weapon was gone. There was no way she could overpower the two black market men. All she could do was sit and wait for the end to come.
As she continued to count the seconds, her busy mind heard something down the far end of the tunnel.
It was hard to distinguish over the constant hum that filled the air. It was a sort of brittle crack-crack-crack. Like the snapping of dry kindling.
When she looked back she saw one of Feyodov's black market men running down the tunnel.
No. Not running. To run one needed functioning legs. Since his were knotted up to his pelvis in a flesh-and-bone imitation of a Christmas bow, it would have been impossible for the man to run. His feet dangled loose in the air.
Screaming as he flew down the tunnel, the man slammed with bone-pulverizing ferocity into one of the soldiers guarding Anna. The twisted bundle of arms and legs bounced off a workstation and collapsed in a deflating heap on the metal flooring.
"Strong routine, but weak on the dismount," a familiar voice called from down the corridor. "I'd give it a six-point-five. What does the North Korean judge think?"
"Hurry up, blockhead," came the squeaky reply. The remaining guard was pulling his rifle high and twisting for the voices at the dark end of the tunnel. Anna didn't give him a chance to shoot.
As the man pivoted, she jumped on the first soldier's dropped gun. In a heartbeat she had the rifle up. With an explosive crack she sent a single bullet into the man's back.
The black marketer was sprawling face-first on the decking when Remo and Chiun appeared. Although Remo seemed unaffected by their surroundings, a hint of strain touched the Master of Sinanju's wrinkled face. He flounced beside his pupil like a fussy bird.
"What'd you do that for?" Remo groused at Anna as he glanced down at the body.
Anna hefted the gun. "Granted it is not as efficient as your plan of hurling crippled bodies around the room," she said blandly, "but the results are the same."
"Not really," Remo said. "Case in point."
He pointed down an adjacent tunnel. Even as his finger was unfurling, Oleg Shevtrinko came running into view brandishing an automatic pistol. His eyes went wide when he saw Remo and Chiun, wider still when he saw the bodies of his three compatriots on the floor. The Russian cursed hotly.
"See what I mean?" Remo said to Anna, unmindful of Oleg's gun. "Those boom noises always attract more boom noises."
Wincing at the pain in his bandaged shoulder, the black marketer whipped his gun up. Before Oleg could pull the trigger, Anna Chutesov fired.
The bullet struck Oleg hard in the center of his bulletproof vest. The wind punched from his lungs, the Russian fell back onto the floor. His gun clattered away.
"Stop doing that," Remo complained.
As he spoke to Anna, he felt a gentle touch on his bare forearm.
"Remo," the Master of Sinanju interrupted tensely.
When Remo looked down, he saw that the look of exertion on his teacher's face had grown worse. "Right," Remo nodded, turning on his heel. "Let's get you out of here. We can sort out why you pulled this Anna-against-the-world crapola once this place is toast."
Anna shook her head. "Wait," she insisted.
"No time to fart around," Remo said tightly. His senses were focused on the far end of the corridor. The tunnel arced around in the distance, making the end invisible. Somewhere far along was the Huitzilopochtli statue. Between there and here Remo sensed about two dozen more men. After Anna's two gunshots, some of the closest black market men had started to move in their direction.
"We cannot go," Anna insisted. "Feyodov plans to fire the weapon again."
"All the more reason for me and Chiun to get as far away as possible," Remo said. He grabbed her by the arm.
"You don't understand!" she pleaded. "He is going to destroy another space shuttle!"
This got Remo's attention.
"Dammit, what's with this guy?" Remo growled. "How much time we got?"
"Under two minutes," Anna urged. "And if we do not stop it, the global ramifications will be catastrophic."
"My worries go bigger than that," Remo said. He cast a concerned eye at the Master of Sinanju. The old man was growing more haggard by the second. The very air seemed to be draining the life from him.
"You two get out of here," Remo said. "I'll take-"
He was shocked when he was interrupted.
Remo thought his senses had been working at peak. But apparently his body, like Chiun's, had begun to fall victim to the subtle disruptions in the air around them. He realized that the instant the pack of gun-wielding Russians charged into view at the far end of the tunnel.
He thought the tunnel had been longer, thought they had more time. Before Remo could reorient himself, before he could shout a warning to Chiun, before he could even utter a single word, the Russians fired.
And the tunnel flashed to explosive life with the deadly crackle of automatic-weapons fire.
Chapter 31
To Boris Feyodov the distant gunshots were just so much background noise. He was standing over a computer console, his dark eyes glued to the screen. The tunnel ended directly beside him. The high walls of the Huitzilopochtli statue rose grandly into the blue sky.
"Is it done?" the former general demanded. Seated at the control console, Professor Melvin Horowitz nodded. "It's synched with the NASA countdown and locked in to autofire forty seconds after the shuttle lifts off."
Feyodov glanced up the dark tunnel.
The shooting had intensified. Obviously, his men were encountering some resistance.