"What happened?" Remo demanded.
"He got away and worked his magic. As you can see," Chiun explained.
"You were supposed to keep him under guard," Remo said, gently lowering a Dutchman to the ground.
"He recovered more swiftly than I expected," Chiun complained, taking two necks at once. Two identical Dutchmen closed their neon-blue eyes and joined other heaps of purple-clad figures.
"Dammit, Chiun. You know how dangerous he is," Remo said.
"Yes," Chiun said evenly. "I know how dangerous he is. "
After the entire square became littered with unconscious Dutchmen, Remo and Chiun worked their way out to the huts and hovels of the village. They found other Dutchmen cowering under the raised floors and in darkened rooms. They dragged every last one into the open.
"I think this is the last," said Chiun, lugging a body over his frail shoulders and depositing him in a pile.
"How can you tell?" asked Remo, joining him.
"Because I count 334 Dutchmen. "
"So? "
"That is precisely the number of villagers in Sinanju."
"That means we don't have the right one."
"Really, Remo," said Chiun, surveying his handiwork with a certain pride. "That should be obvious to you. If the true Dutchman had succumbed, his illusion would have vanished with his consciousness."
"Yeah, you're right. What do we do now?"
"I think I saw someone running toward the East Road. Did you intercept one of the false Dutchman going that way? "
"No," said Remo.
"Then I suggest you go swiftly along the East Road if you wish to settle with your enemy. "
"You seem awfully eager to see me go," Remo said suspiciously.
Chiun shrugged. "I cannot stop you if you are bent upon your own destruction."
Remo hesitated.
"Or you can help me sort my villagers. Perhaps the Dutchman is among them."
"I'll see you later," Remo said evenly, taking off.
"I will guard your woman and your child while you are gone," said Chiun loudly. Under his breath he added, "On your wild-goose chase."
Remo Williams took the inland road away from the village of Sinanju. A simple dirt road, it ran for several hundred yards and suddenly diverged into three superhighways that were bare of traffic. Beyond the horizon, the smoky glow of the most heavily industrialized section of North Korea obscured the stars. The bite of chemical wastes abraded Remo's lungs. Although the East Road was deserted, Remo set off at a dead run. If the Dutchman had taken this road, Remo would catch up with him. But somehow Remo didn't think the Dutchman had taken the East Road at all. He had known Chiun too long and he figured this was one of his tricks. But Remo was not sure, so he ran and ran, eating up miles of black asphalt with his feet and getting further and further away, he suspected, from his ultimate enemy on earth.
In Sinanju, the villagers began to wake up. Their resemblance to the Dutchman faded slowly, like a double exposure. The phenomenon told the Master of Sinanju that the Dutchman had escaped safely.
Chiun roused some of the slow ones with massaging fingers applied to their necks. It increased the flow of oxygen-carrying blood to their brains, reviving them faster than a shot of stimulant.
Jilda watched with Freya at her side.
"What if Remo does not come back?" she asked.
"He will," Chiun said absently.
"Not if he finds the Dutchman."
"He will not. I told Remo that the Dutchman took the East Road. If he decides to believe me, he will take the East Road and waste his time. If he chose not to believe me, he will take either the North or South road."
"I understand," said Jilda. "There is only a one-in-three chance that Remo took the correct road."
"No," said Chiun, whispering encouragement to a waking villager. "The chance is none in three. The Dutchman took the shore road."
"Then why did you send Remo along the East Road?"
"Because I have spent two decades training him and do not wish to lose him foolishly."
"He will know he has been tricked."
"Remo is used to being tricked. If his mind were as strong as his body, he would be the greatest Master Sinanju has ever known."
"None of us are safe as long as the Dutchman lives."
"I do not claim to have achieved a solution to this problem," Chiun said, shooing the last of his villagers away. "Only that I have postponed one tragic result."
The three stood alone in the silent village square. The only light came from the moon. Chiun took in a deep breath of sea air. It was cold and bitter.
When Remo returned, his shoulders sloped dejectedly. "He got away," he said.
"Is that a bad thing?" asked Chiun.
"We gotta get him. Now. Today. This can't go on. We can't have him hanging over our lives like this."
"I think it is not my life he hangs over," said Chiun. "I think it is yours. And are you so eager to end your life that you will pursue your inevitable mutual destruction with this man? "
"If we're going to die because of one another, I'd rather get it over with," Remo said seriously.
"How white," Chiun remarked nastily. "Oh, it is too much of a burden to wait and plan a solution to my problem. I would rather commit suicide than live in such uncertainty."
"It's not that way, Chiun, and you know it."
"Oh? Then how is it, Remo? You cannot kill this man. Let him go lick his wounds. You are stronger than he is. He knows that now. Perhaps he will never return."
"You're forgetting that he killed Mah-Li."
"And you are forgetting that beside you stand your child and the woman who bore her."
"That's exactly why I have to take care of the Dutchman," Remo said. "Don't you see that? They're not safe as long as he's alive. He won't stop until he's murdered everyone in my life. I'm going after him. Are you going to tell me which way he went-or am I going to have to waste a lot of precious time?"
"Very well," Chiun said, drawing himself up proudly. "He took the shore road."
"See you later, then."
"If that is your wish. You will miss the funeral. But it does not matter. A person so bent on self-destruction that he would leave without saying good-bye to his only child and the child's mother is obviously above pausing to pay his respects to the woman he almost married. The woman he claims to have loved."
Remo stopped in his tracks. He did not turn around. "Postpone the funeral," he said.
"Sinanju law. Burial must be on the evening of the passing of the villager. I cannot bend Sinanju law, not even for you. But go. I will tell the villagers that you would not attend the funeral because you did not truly love her. I have been saying it for months, and now you are proving it to me."
Remo turned to face the Master of Sinanju. The resolve vanished from his face. "You always have an answer, don't you, Chiun?"
"No," said Chiun, turning his back on Remo. "It is you who always have a problem. But I like that in you. It makes life so interesting. Now, let us bury our dead."
Chapter 30
Cold moonlight washed the funeral of the maiden Mah-Li like an astringent solution.
The funeral procession began in front of the House of the Masters. The entire village wore white, the traditional Korean color of mourning. Villagers carried the rosewood coffin on a palanquin. Remo and Chiun walked just ahead of the litter, the remaining villagers trailing behind, carrying incense burners and making no more noise than the sea mists rolling off the bay.
Jilda walked in the rear, her arms bandaged, Freya beside her.
The procession followed the shore road to the plum-tree-shaded burial ground of the village of Sinanju. Every Sinanju villager was entitled to a mound of dirt in the burial plot, with a small stone or pillar to mark his or her life.
The palanquin was set on the ground beside an open hole. After a moment of silence in which the villagers were allowed a final view of the face of the deceased, the coffin was closed.