The creature thought for a moment. "No," it admitted eventually. "But I am not what I once was. My master has fled to the place of the gods. I am a shadow of his greater self, a fraction of that which he is. Without his energy, I am doomed. Soon I will be condemned to nothingness."
Sun knew that the spirit of this nether region was weak. From what he had gleaned of previous conversations, a battle had taken place at some time in the past. The creature in the smoke had not fared well. Nor had its master, who had abandoned this part of himself to the limitless red plain.
"Your plan goes well," Sun offered consolingly. "The land of my birth is reeling on both sides of the division."
"This I know," said the creature, a great weariness in its voice. It did not get up from the ground. It continued to sit-as eternal as the land and sky around it.
"There will be political upheaval from these events. The United States-the Greece of this era-needs a presence in the South to show strength against the North. That foothold appears to be slipping."
"This, too, is known to me," said the fragile creature. "It is as I have designed it to be. To remedy the situation, they will send my young enemy first."
"What of the old one?" Sun asked.
The strange being shook its head. Puffs of yellow smoke escaped from its neck, falling back into the larger cloud. "The Master will remain behind for now. Only the night tiger of Sinanju will go. I have foreseen it."
Sun knew enough not to dispute the creature's oracular abilities. "It is as you say," he conceded. "Is there something you require of me?"
"Their emperor has attempted to contact the Master. So far the old one has not deigned to speak with him, but his soul is more restless than he admits. His attitude could soon change. Keep him with you so that they do not communicate."
"Can you not see his future, O Prophet?" Sun asked, puzzled.
"I see much," agreed the creature. It exhaled ancient puffs of sickly yellow. "But it is as mud. The clarity is gone. It is ...difficult for me."
"But my future," Sun stressed. "That is clear to you."
"Yes," the being admitted. It seemed drained.
Sun smiled. "I will do as you say. I have another taping today. The old one can accompany me."
Before him, the creature sighed deeply. Its breathing was ragged. "I am not what I once was. Prophesying fatigues me. Leave me now to my waning days."
Although the being shook a substantial hand at Sun, the cult leader lagged. "Um, if you could...?" he asked.
The creature looked up tiredly. Sun still squatted beside it. Its eyes closed, and it nodded in understanding.
Reaching out two humanlike hands, the being pressed its palms against either side of Sun's head.
The explosion of yellow was blinding, brilliant.
The vision came at once.
He was as a king. Riding a cloud from the heavens. The vast domain of Korea stretched out beneath his feet. Beyond it, the world lay waiting.
His future.
The flash of yellow consumed him with a shocking abruptness. Sun shuddered, gasping for breath. He blinked madly, chasing the dancing yellow spots from before his eyes.
As the brightness faded, Sun looked around.
He was back in his closet. Hangers hung from wooden rods beyond the thin film of yellow smoke.
Between his ankles was the strange urn with the Greek carving along its sides. The same urn that had been in the possession of Mike Princippi and given away. The urn he had had his Sunnie followers remove from the Boston Museum of Rare Arts.
The yellow smoke rose in uncertain puffs from the damp powder within the ancient stone vessel. The stink of sulfur clung to every corner of the room.
Sun struggled to regain his breath. He looked down at the powder in the urn.
"Would it be disrespectful to say that that was one hell of a rush?" he enthused as he stood.
He drew the damp towel from around his neck, tossing it on the floor near a humidifier. Sweating, Man Hyung Sun left the small fetid room.
Chapter 21
The drive from New York to Massachusetts did not help to diminish Remo's sour mood.
When he stepped through the front door of the condominium he shared with the Master of Sinanju, he heard the telephone ringing at the rear of the house. Scowling, Remo walked back to the kitchen.
"What do you want?" Remo asked, picking up the receiver.
"Remo? Smith. Thank goodness I was finally able to reach you."
"Been trying long?" Remo asked with sarcastic sweetness.
"Yes," Smith replied, unaware of the sarcasm. "When I could not reach you at home, I traced your call back to Sun's mansion, but you and Chiun had already left. I trust you already know about the situation in Korea."
"You're too trusting," Remo said. "And Chiun didn't leave. He's still with the Reverend Sun."
"Oh? He did not come to the phone."
"Probably busy passing around the collection plate," Remo said. "So what's with Korea?"
Smith explained the situation both north and south of the Thirty-eighth Parallel. As he regurgitated the raw data, he quickly told Remo of the headless Korean bodies discovered that day and their connection to North Korea, which Smith had established through that nation's New York UN mission.
"I need for you and Chiun to fly to South Korea immediately. If there is some kind of sinister force behind this, I want you on the ground ready for quick action. I've arranged military transport for the two of you."
"Better cancel one of those tickets," Remo said.
"Why?"
"Chiun won't be coming."
"I need him," Smith stressed. "It may become necessary to stabilize the situation in North Korea, as well. Chiun has a knack for dealing with government leaders. Particularly in his homeland."
"And I don't?" Remo asked.
Smith's hesitation spoke volumes. "Er, if you are saying that Chiun is at the Sun mansion, perhaps I could try to reach him there again," he said vaguely.
"He's not going anywhere," Remo insisted, his tone betraying his offense. "He's sitting in his room waiting for the human race to jaundice."
"I do not understand."
"Join the club."
"This is a vital situation," Smith urged.
"Chiun's found something that's more vital. Take my word on this one, Smutty-you aren't moving him an inch."
Smith considered for a long moment. "You may go alone," he said finally, clearly unhappy with the situation. "But remember that South Korea is still an ally. Try your best to be diplomatic."
"Blah, blah, blah," Remo said.
"The North is an even trickier situation," Smith pressed on. "They look for any opportunity to drive a wedge between the United States and the South. Try not to give them any ammunition."
"Gee, you want me to make sure I wear clean underwear in case I get in an accident, Mom?" Remo asked.
South continued, undaunted. "It is not yet known if the nine informants killed in the North are a tit-for-tat for the nine you removed here. It is important that we do not act unilaterally until we are certain of our facts."
"Yammer, yammer, yammer," Remo sighed. "Stop worrying, Smitty. Just get me on the right plane, and everything will work out for the best. Trust me. I can be very diplomatic."
Another deafeningly loud pause.
"Are you absolutely certain Chiun is not available?" Smith asked, his voice strained.
THE MASTER OF SINANJU heard the heavy footfalls in the hallway outside his room. They certainly did not belong to Remo. His pupil's confident glide had moved in the opposite direction hours before. He was too stubborn to return.
No, these were footsteps Chiun had come to recognize clearly in his short stay at the East Hampton estate.
"Enter, Most Holy One!" Chiun called even before his visitor had a chance to knock.
Man Hyung Sun stuck his head around the doorway.
Chiun smelled the after-shave lotion even before he had opened the door. Remo was right about that, at least. The stink about the Reverend Sun was strong. Almost overpowering.