"Don't you want to know how I convinced Chiun to—"
"No," Smith said, and hung up.
"Those crazy flying saucer people have ripped off a live warhead," Remo informed Chiun.
"Yes, I believe they said something about ridding the world of those insane devices. I do not think that is so crazy."
"That depends on whether one goes off in their faces or not. They've been lucky so far. We've got to find them, and when we do we'll find that UFO, too."
"I will go put on an appropriate kimono," Chiun said.
When he returned, the Master of Sinanju wore a green ceremonial robe on which twin peacocks strutted. "Am I presentable?" he asked.
"Only if they're hiding at a circus," Remo said, but he smiled.
Chiun smiled back. Things were back to normal.
* * *
At Chiun's insistence Remo drove to FOES headquarters, even though he had been there earlier and found nothing.
"Emptiness is always temporary," Chiun pointed out.
The door was ajar when they got there, and sounds came from inside.
"Let's take him, whoever it is," Remo suggested.
"No," Chiun said. "We will wish to follow this person to our goal. Let us be unobtrusive."
"You'll have to leave the building for that," Remo remarked, eyeing the peacocks on Chiun's robe.
But they both melted into the shadows in time to avoid being seen by Pavel Zarnitsa, who was anxious to locate the farm of a certain Ethel Sump.
"Who was he?" Remo asked after he had gone.
"I did not recognize him," Chiun admitted. "He is not one of the group belonging to the blonde woman with the cavernous mouth."
"We'll follow him anyway. He's all we've got."
They let their quarry reach his rented car before they started theirs. Remo followed at a discreet distance, which was not a problem. The leading car gave off a noxious exhaust, which Remo's sensitive nostrils could follow from better than a mile.
"Good. He's going south, Chiun."
But the Master of Sinanju was too engrossed to reply. He was busy solving his Rubik's Cube for what Remo thought must have been the hundredth time.
"Haven't you gotten tired of that thing yet?" he complained.
"One does not tire of new challenges," Chiun sniffed.
"What new challenges?" Remo demanded. "You've already broken the record on that thing twice."
"But I have not solved the puzzle with my eyes closed."
"Hah! And you're not going to, either. I still haven't figured out how you do it, but no one can do it with their eyes closed."
"No?" Chiun inquired. "Watch."
And while Remo watched out of the corner of his eye, Chiun went through an elaborate series of motions like a magician proving that he had nothing hidden up his sleeve. Then he raised the cube from his lap and, tightly closing his eyes, solved the puzzle in a blur of colored squares and flying fingers.
"There. A new way. Perhaps I should go on television."
Remo bit his tongue and concentrated on the road ahead. The thick smell of exhaust fumes made him want to gag. Chiun, immensely pleased with himself, took a nap and promptly began snoring.
"Large hairy dog!"
Chiun snapped awake in mid-snore. "What is wrong, Remo? What is it?"
"Large hairy dog," Remo repeated triumphantly. "I've been trying to remember it for the last twenty minutes. Hopak Kay means 'large hairy dog' in Korean. This alien's name is Large Hairy Dog!"
Chiun's face assumed an embarrassed expression. "Do not make light of another's name. In the culture from which he comes, it is no doubt a proud and worthy name. You should take that into account."
"Since when are you so understanding of other cultures?"
"I have always been that way," Chiun insisted.
"Try to keep that in mind the next time you want me to grow Fu Manchu fingernails."
* * *
Pavel Zarnitsa found the farmhouse that should have belonged to Ethel Sump, drove well past it, and pulled off the road. He quietly assembled his plastic pistol and walked back in the direction of the farm, with its weeds and weatherbeaten barn.
He did not pay any attention to the car that shot past him, and so did not know that it, too, parked not far down the road.
The farm was so run-down, it made Pavel a little sick when he got to it. In Russia, such neglect was practically treasonous. How did they feed people with such waste? Thinking of food made Pavel's mouth water. He would enjoy a taco very much right about now. There was a light in one window, and Pavel went toward it in a sort of crouching run. He waited in the darkness until he was satisfied that his movements had gone unnoticed. And when he peered into the house, there was no sign of people except for the light, which showed a rather unkempt parlor.
Making a circuit of the place, Pavel discovered the van, which told him that someone had to be there. He was about to investigate the barn when a weird thing happened.
The barn began to glow.
The barn had been a dark shape against some feathery redbud trees and looked ready to fall over in a stiff wind. There were missing boards and a ragged hole in the roof. Suddenly, a tremendous white light seemed to fill the barn and leak from the chinks and holes. There were a lot of these, so it made the barn all but glow.
A long, eerie sigh came from within, like a chorus of awestruck worshipers at the Second Coming.
Pavel crept toward the light, this time on his stomach. What he saw through a knothole made him forget all about his appetite.
He saw a round metallic object of many bright lights, which began to change color before his startled eye. The object floated in the exact center of the barn. It wobbled slightly, but otherwise did not move. It made no sound. It was a fantastic sight.
There were also people inside the barn. Switching eyes because of the intense light, Pavel saw that they looked human. There seemed to be about ten of them, led by a tall blonde woman in some kind of black uniform. The others were also in black, including one who hobbled on crutches, and another who knelt before the floating object. This man was not in black, and the blonde leader held a gun to his head.
"He says his name is Thad Screiber, and he claims he's a reporter," the blonde said loudly. It was clear she was speaking to the weird object.
When the object replied in an unearthly voice, Pavel felt his flesh crawl a little.
"You have moved the warhead to a safe location, Preparation Group Leader?" the voice demanded unemotionally.
"Two of our people are guarding it now," Amanda Bull said.
"We are then at a dangerous juncture in our plans to dismantle America's nuclear arsenal."
Dismantle America's nuclear arsenal? Pavel thought incredulously. And what was this about a warhead?
"What do we do with this reporter, World Master?" Amanda asked. "He followed us here and could wreck everything. Should I shoot him? I wouldn't mind."
This brought some grumblings of discontent from the others in the group. The reporter swayed a little on his knees. He looked a little green, but that might have been the lights.
"Quiet!" Amanda snapped at the others.
"No, shooting him will accomplish nothing," the strange voice spoke.
Everyone looked relieved, including Thad Screiber. He shut his eyes in relief and so did not see the blue needle of light suddenly stab from the UFO and impale him for a moment in eternity. The beam went completely through him at a downward angle and started a small fire on the ground behind him. Thad Screiber fell back into the tiny flames, and his dead body smothered those flames.
"But demonstrating my power will," the World Master intoned. "Have some of you forgotten the gravity of our work? If so, then consider this: you have participated in the theft of one of your nation's most dangerous and important weapons. In the eyes of your people, you are all traitors. Only by continuing along the path I have marked and creating a new world order can you escape capture and execution. No one must stand in our way."