When it ended, the clear, cold air rang with the sound of no sound.
A bald yellow head streaked with black popped up from the snow. The Master of Sinanju peered about narrowly. He reached down. He pulled Squirrelly Chicane up by her saffron-tinted hair.
"I did it! I did it! Didn't I do it?" she said happily.
Kula and Lobsang emerged next, shaking the snow off like bears coming out of long hibernation.
Below, the base of the mountain had been filled in. A handful of tanks had survived the onslaught. They were racing away.
Above, the helicopters had scattered like so many frightened crows.
"I did it! I did it! I conquered the wicked Chinese!" Squirrelly exulted.
"We are not free yet," intoned Chiun, looking up at the helicopters, already regathering like brazen vultures over a notquite-dead living thing.
After a few minutes all but one stood off at some distance. The remaining helicopter, Chiun saw, was the one that had led the pack and brought this calamity about.
From a belly-mounted loudspeaker came an authoritative voice, speaking perfect Mandarin. "I offer safe passage to Gonggar Airport. Will you accept this generous offer?"
"Never!" Squirrelly shrieked, shaking her fist at the helicopter. "Isn't that right, men?"
When there was no answer, she said again, "I said, 'Isn't that right, men?'"
They regarded her with doubtful eyes.
"Don't you see! This is the climax. The Bunji Lama calls down a mountaintop onto the bad guys with her magnificent Bunji voice. This will really play! I'd like to see Spielberg top this! Why, I'll bet they're dancing in the streets right now, rejoicing that the bad guys finally got their comeuppance."
All eyes went to Lhasa. There was no question that many who heard the sound of the avalanche had seen the forces of the People's Liberation Army crushed into oblivion.
"They should be pouring into the streets any time now," Squirrelly said breathlessly.
But Lhasa remained quiet.
"What's with them? Don't they understand they've been liberated?"
When it became clear that the answer was no, Squirrelly cupped her hands before her mouth and tried to shout the joyous news across the Lhasa Valley.
The top of the mountain gave a brief warning rumble.
A quick hand touched her throat, and Squirrelly found herself squeaking like an excited mouse, and then nothing came out of her mouth at all.
You're all just jealous because a woman saved you! she tried to shout. They were talking among themselves as if she were a mere extra.
"I have come to set the Bunji Lama on the Lion Throne," the Master of Sinanju said slowly. "This I have done."
"It is true," Kula admitted readily.
"The Bunji Lama is now ruler of Tibet-by all rights."
Forget the exposition, you morons! Squirrelly screamed mentally. My public awaits!
"Perhaps," continued Chiun, "it has been ordained from the start of time that this Bunji Lama is not in truth the Bunji who is destined to liberate Tibet."
Everyone looked at Squirrelly as if she had blown her lines, big-time.
"It is possible," Kula admitted. "After all, she is a white eyes. And female."
"If it is to be, it is to be," said Lobsang. "For who among us can arrest the mighty Wheel of the Inexorable?"
Chiun said, "It is decided, then. We have done all we could. We must flee in order to await a truer hour and a more fortuitous time."
Like hell we are! Squirrelly screamed mentally.
But they had made up their minds. Squirrelly found herself gathered up in Kula's big treacherous arms, and down they went again.
It just couldn't get any worse if she were being forced to play opposite animals or, God forbid, a child actor.
Chapter 38
At the base of the mountain, the followers of the Bunji Lama took possession of an abandoned jeep. They discovered the driver as they drove off. He had been hiding under the chassis, and they left him lying on his stomach with his tongue and the contents of his stomach extruded from his dead, open mouth.
Kula drove. They were not followed into the city, not even by the PLA helicopter that had promised them safe passage. Curiously, it rattled in the direction of Gonggar Airport.
And in Lhasa the rattle of automatic-weapons fire came now and again. Here and there the black smoke lifted to the blue sky.
"The Chinese are fighting," Kula muttered.
"But who are they fighting?" Chiun wondered aloud.
"They are fighting Tibetans," Lobsang said proudly. "The people of Lhasa, knowing that the Bunji is among them, are in open revolt."
"Tibetans do not fight," Kula said contemptuously.
But as they approached the city, the sounds of combat escalated.
The fighting seemed centered around the Public Security Bureau headquarters. Kula swung around it, taking Aefong Beilu south to XingFu Donglu and cutting up and down empty streets whose windows framed frightened Tibetan faces until the road back to Gonggar came within sight.
Turning a corner, they avoided a head-on collision with a military truck by a margin so narrow that both vehicles exchanged paint samples.
"Khampa drivers!" Kula grumbled. "They are the worst."
"Khampas are fighters," Lobsang said.
"Khampas are bandits and sissies," Kula growled. But something in his rearview mirror brought him up in his seat. The truck was pulling a screeching U-turn and careering after them at high speed.
Kula pressed the accelerator, saying, "I will show them!"
The jeep sped ahead. The truck came roaring after it. Neck and neck they raced toward Gonggar. Every time the truck pulled alongside, Kula wrung more horsepower out of the jeep.
In the end the jeep seemed the clear winner until an annoyed voice lifted over the gunning engine sounds.
"Hey! Pullover! It's me!"
Chiun perked up in his seat. "Remo?"
"Who do you think?" Remo Williams shouted from behind the wheel.
Kula, eyes wide, said, "But you are dressed as a Khampa, White Tiger."
"It's a freaking disguise!" Remo shouted. "Now, pull over."
Kula started braking. A sandaled foot helped his foot stomp on the gas pedal, and a long-fingered hand took the wheel and inexorably steered the jeep to the shoulder of the road.
Remo jumped out of the truck, his silver-fox turban askew.
Chiun leapt out to meet him. "What are you doing in Tibet?" the Master of Sinanju demanded angrily.
"I've been trying to find you for hours," Remo complained. "You've really done it this time, you know. There's a huge international stink brewing."
"I am on sabbatical," Chiun snapped. "No shadow of what I do should properly fall upon America."
"Tell that to Beijing. Smith is having fits. The President is on his back because the First Lady is on his back. Look, we gotta get all of you out of Tibet fast."
"Who is this?" Kula asked of Remo, pointing to Bumba Fun.
Bumba Fun struck his chest, saying, "I am Bumba Fun, the strong right arm of Gonpo Jigme."
"Who is Gonpo Jigme?" asked Kula.
"I am," said Remo.
Chiun inserted himself in front of Remo. "You are Gonpo Jigme?"
"Yeah."
"But you sound like Remo."
"I am Remo."
"You just said that you are Gonpo Jigme."
"I am Gonpo Jigme. Look, this is starting to sound like one of those Bumba Fun conversations I keep having everywhere I go. Let's just get out of here, okay?"
Squirrelly Chicane presented herself to Remo at that moment. She made frantic motions at herself, at Chiun and at her unworking voice.
Remo restored her voice with a touch of a neck nerve.
"What's the idea of blowing in here and stealing my show?" Squirrelly demanded.