Chiun seemed poised to strike. And for the life of him, Remo could not tell if he was bluffing.
A few present on that icy runway sensed that there was an epic battle about to commence. Looking up from where they knelt, they spied the two men standing face-to-face. In truth, what was happening was more an epic sizing up.
Remo rotated his thick wrists absently as he looked down at the tiny wisp of a man who had taught him so much. Chiun stared back, face impassive.
Remo was the first to blink.
"The hell with this," he said, stepping back. He waved an angry hand. "You'll see I'm right soon enough."
Stepping away from the Reverend Sun, Remo slumped back against his jeep, arms crossed sullenly across his chest.
Chiun relaxed his stance. Hands slithered up the sleeves of his golden kimono, locking on to opposite wrists.
The Reverend Man Hyung Sun beamed.
"Do we not see the future already?" he proclaimed. "When every face is Korean and every mind and soul equally wise, there will be no more competition. No more fighting. No more conflict. Paradise waits in pyon ha-da!"
Sun clapped his hands loudly together. All eyes looked up to him. The cult leader indicated that the men should rise. Soldiers came forward to help the dictator of the North and the democratically elected president of the South to their feet.
"Bring transport!" Sun called "The future begins in the wounded belly of this divided land!"
Limousines, jeeps and trucks were driven onto the runway. The leaders of the two Koreas climbed into the first limo together as the rest of the men scattered among the remaining vehicles. Sun ducked back inside his jet to collect a package.
While he was gone, the Master of Sinanju approached Remo.
"Are you coming?" Chiun asked, his voice betraying no emotion.
"Yeah, I'll go," Remo said. "But I don't believe in any of this crystal-ball bullshit."
Chiun shook his head. There was not a trace of warmth in his eyes. "It no longer matters what you think," he said seriously. "It is destiny."
Turning away from his pupil, the Master of Sinanju went in search of transport. He did not look back.
Chapter 27
Spy satellites and reconnaissance planes were the first to see it. The information was radioed back and up along the chain of command until secure phone lines from Washington to Moscow, from London to Beijing, were ringing off the hook. In military war rooms all around the globe, the slow, relentless movement of the caravan toward the Thirty-eighth Parallel was greeted with great apprehension.
And in the lead limousine of the mighty line of army and civilian vehicles, Remo Williams sat brooding. He was also trying to stay out of range of the Reverend Sun's wretched after-shave lotion.
"Is he always like this?" Man Hyung Sun whispered to the Master of Sinanju.
"Sadly, yes," Chiun replied. "It is a trait he picked up from his mother."
"Leave my mother out of this," Remo snapped. "You never even met her."
"Neither have you," Chiun sniffed. He pitched his voice low again. "He is an orphan," he said to Sun.
"That's none of his damned business, either," Remo said harshly, his eyes betraying his deep anger.
"Perhaps we should leave this one alone for now," the Reverend Sun suggested. "I fear only pyon ha-da will turn him from his deeply ingrained white ways."
"Listen," Remo said, "I'm not picking a fight with you, Chiun, but there is no way in hell the entire human race is going to turn Korean overnight."
Chiun nodded. "That is correct."
Remo brightened. "So you agree this is nuts?"
"No," Chiun said. "I merely agree that it will not occur overnight. Seer Sun has informed me that pyon ha-da will take place during daylight, so that the entire population of the world can witness its moment of flowering perfection."
Remo closed his eyes. "Half the world is dark at any given time," he said. "How's Houdini gonna fix that?"
"When the world is Korean, the Creator of all things will no longer allow night to fall," Chiun explained. "He only invented darkness to at least partially mask the shame he felt for his mistake at the heavenly oven. When there are no more whites or blacks or other inferiors, there will no longer be a need for night."
"Remind me to toss out my night-light," Remo deadpanned.
"You need not be so recalcitrant," Sun offered. "Your father in spirit has told me that you already possess some Korean blood."
"Nice of him to share a family secret," Remo said, his voice level. He glanced at Chiun.
"As part Korean already, you will be superior to the others who will only be naturalized Koreans. You will be a leader in the new order."
Remo laughed mockingly. "So even with this big crackpot change of yours, there's still going to be some sort of wacky caste system."
"Order must be maintained," Sun nodded.
"Spoken like a member of the future ruling class," Remo muttered. He turned away from the others, staring out across the bleak Korean countryside.
"Do not pay attention to him, Holy One," Chiun instructed with a frown. He nodded to the cult leader, abruptly changing the subject. "Perhaps this is a good time for our next lesson."
"Very well," Sun agreed.
Remo continued to stare out the window as the two men spoke. He felt the springs in the seat beneath him shift as Man Hyung Sun settled into a more comfortable pose.
"Concentrate here," he heard Chiun say. "This is the center, the beginning of all life. Pull your breath into this white hot spot. Feel it coursing through you."
Remo started. He spun, looking over at the two men. He was shocked by what he saw.
Chiun was leaning from the seat across from Remo and Sun's. He had his slender fingers pressed into the rounded paunch of the cult leader's abdomen. Sun inhaled deeply. With Chiun's deft manipulation, he pulled breath down into the natural point deep in the pit of his stomach.
Remo glanced wildly up at Chiun, outraged by what he was seeing. "You're teaching this faker Sinanju!" he demanded.
"He expressed an interest," Chiun replied. "Which is more than can be said for you at our first meeting."
"This is crazy," Remo said, furious. "You can't teach that con man Sinanju."
"How dare you?" Chiun flamed. "Who are you to say with whom I can or cannot share my wisdom?"
"I'm the Apprentice Reigning Master," Remo snapped. "That's who. Now knock it off."
Chiun's eyes instantly narrowed into savage slits. For the second time in less than an hour, the tension between the two men was as it had never been at any time in their near three-decade relationship.
For his part, Remo refused to back down. Chiun had always taught him that the art they both plied was a link to ages past. Passed on from Master to Master, Sinanju had woven its invisible deadly thread throughout history. It was a craft and a way of life far too important to be wasted on the likes of the Reverend Man Hyung Sun, no matter if the swindler learned only the basics. To his very marrow, Remo knew that he could never allow the ultimate betrayal of Sinanju to take place, even if the betrayer was his own adopted father.
They stared at one another for a long time across the well of the limousine. Finally, with no words spoken between them, they both broke away, staring out opposite windows.
Man Hyung Sun repressed a smile. "Are we finished?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes, we are," Chiun said coldly.
And the way in which he spoke the words told Remo that the old Korean was speaking about more than just a simple breathing exercise.
As he stared out at the dreary Korean countryside that was passing rapidly by the limo, Remo felt a welling hollowness slowly drag away the anger he was feeling. It pulled and pulled until there was no fury left.
When it was gone, there was nothing inside him but a vast emptiness. So great was the sensation of isolation, he found himself longing for the rage. It was as if the blackness of eternity had opened up and swallowed his soul.