Their heads were on the floor looking astonished.
"Da-yam," said Melvis, pushing K.C. back. "You better not see this, gal. It's a mess."
A camera was pushed in. "Take pictures?" K.C. asked. "For my magazine."
Stepping into the command car, Major Grimm looked at his dead launch-control officers and said, "It's impossible."
"What's impossible?" Remo asked.
"We had that slippery ninja cornered in the missile car. The car was surrounded. There is no access from that car to this one. How did he get in?"
Chiun was looking at the raw neck stumps, which oozed blood in the last, slow gulps of the dying hearts below them.
"A katana did this," he intoned.
"You sure, Little Father?"
"No ninja did this deed."
"My engineer reported a ninja on the tracks," Grimm insisted.
"Let's talk to your engineer," suggested Remo.
THE ENGINEER WAS ADAMANT. He spit a string of tobacco juice, dug in his heels and made his voice boom so it could be heard over the snap, crackle and pop of the burning MX missile.
"It was a ninja. Short as a tree stump, all muffled in black and as mean looking as an oncoming barrel-assing Baldwin diesel."
"You sure?" said Remo.
"Abso-positively. He even had on one of them funny-looking ninja hats."
"Hats?"
"You know-the kind that sorta look like a fireman's helmet from the back."
"Ninja don't wear helmets," said Remo.
"I know a ninja when I see one."
The Master of Sinanju used his sandaled toe to draw an outline in the dirt.
"Like this?" he asked, indicating an ornate flanged helmet.
"Yeah. You got it. Exactly like that."
"That," said Remo, "is a samurai helmet."
"Samurai-ninja-what's the blasted difference? The little bastard was chock-full of mischief any way you spell it."
"Why would a samurai attack my train?" Major Grimm demanded.
"He is not a samurai, but a ronin, " sniffed Chiun.
"What's that?"
"A masterless samurai."
"You mean he was free-lance?"
"Yes."
"My question stands. What would he want with my train?"
"To derail it," sniffed Chiun. "Obviously."
Major Grimm looked over the mess that was his Peacekeeper train. Dead, scalded airmen were being lowered down from the missile car. Other bodies were being laid out and covered with Air Force blue blankets, while the surviving security team attempted to sort out which unanchored head went with which truncated corpse.
And out in the field, corn was popping and hissing as the MX missile slowly melted into incandescent aluminum slag.
"When this gets out, they're going to bust me down to toddler," Grimm moaned.
"We still have a samurai to catch," reminded Remo.
"Ronin," corrected Chiun. "Why can you not get it right?"
Chapter 19
"There's only one thing to do," Remo said as he surveyed the stopped Peacekeeper train.
"What's that?" asked Major Grimm, whose expression now matched his family name.
"Take the train apart, car by car."
"This consist costs upward of sixty billion dollars. That's billion with a b. And I'm responsible for it."
"How low can they bust you down to?" Remo asked.
"I said toddler before, but now I'm thinking sperm."
"Maybe you'll meet a nice egg and get to start fresh," said Remo, starting down the tracks.
Grimm followed, feeling helpless, and the old Korean took to the other side. They walked from car to car, setting their ears to each car as they came to it.
Hearing nothing, they moved on.
At the equipment car, the second-last of the train, Remo stopped. Dropping to one knee, he signaled the Master of Sinanju on the other side.
Remo went to one end and Chiun the other.
The sound that came next was hard to describe. It might have been a coupler knuckle fracturing under pressure. That, of course, was impossible, Grimm told himself. It would take a collision to snap a tightbox coupler. Or a shaped charge.
No one saw what happened, but when Grimm saw Remo and the old Korean rejoin each other on the other side, they gave the last two boxcars a hard push.
The cars started rattling down the tracks, in reverse.
The sheared-off coupling came into view at that point. The broken face gleamed the color of new steel. The cars slowed to a natural stop.
Major Grimm waved a contingent of security airmen to surround the detached boxcars.
"We got him isolated from the rest of the train," Remo told him.
"What happened to that coupler?"
"Gave way," said Remo.
"It's a tight-box coupler. They don't break easy."
"This one did."
"Can't argue there," Grimm admitted.
"Watch this end," said Remo. "Come on, Little Father."
They went around to the other end of the boxcar, and this time the noise was like metallic thunder.
Then the end car was rolling free. The prairie was flat, so it didn't roll far. Just enough to isolate the equipment car.
Remo hovered beside the equipment car. "He's definitely inside."
"How do you know?"
"We can hear his heartbeat."
Grimm experimented with listening. "I don't hear anything."
"Rock and roll will do that to your eardrums."
Remo addressed the old Korean. "Okay, Chiun. Do we go in or just take the car apart?"
Chiun's face frowned into a tight mask of determination. "We must be careful. There is no telling what deceits this ronin has at his disposal."
"Why don't we just shoot the fool out of that thing?" Melvis suggested.
"We do things our way," said Remo.
"This man has an excellent idea," snapped Chiun. Spinning, the Master of Sinanju raised his voice in the direction of the Air Force security team. "Shoot the Japanese fool out of this car!"
Remo shrugged.
At Major Grimm's direction, a firing squad was assembled. They lifted their M-16s into line.
"Ready... aim . . . fire!"
The M-16s blazed away. Smoking cartridges hopped into the Nebraska sunlight, falling to earth like spent brass grasshoppers.
The boxcar side shivered under the drumming storm of rounds. Paint peeled. Indentations like silver washers cratered the peeling boxcar paint.
When they had expended their clips, Major Grimm ordered the firing squad at case.
Remo walked up to the boxcar. He put his ear to it. "I don't hear anything."
"He is dead," intoned Chiun.
"I thought he was dead to start with," muttered Remo.
"Now he is doubly dead, if not triply dead."
"What say we crack her open, then?" Melvis suggested.
Remo started for the door. "I got it."
That was as far as he got.
The samurai jumped from the boxcar. He came out through the closed door without bothering to open it.
Everyone was caught off guard. Including Remo.
Remo's entire body was one gigantic sensing organ. That was why he usually left his arms bare. So his sensitive body hairs and skin were receptive to shifts in air currents and other atmospheric vibrations.
Remo hadn't been aware the samurai was coming at him until he emerged from the door.
He popped from the blank door like a black soap bubble, landed in a crouch and came clumsily to his feet.
His katana was sheathed. Over his shoulder was slung a black leather bag, which hung heavy under the weight of its contents.
It was broad daylight, so everyone got a good look. The sun gleamed on his black plates, made the ornate helmet smoulder and most unnervingly of all, showed very clearly that the samurai had no face.
"Mercy!" said K.C., who started backing away. A dozen steps later, she turned and ran.
Remo moved in on the samurai. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chiun flitting in from another angle.