Neither of them had yet struck a blow. It was like some friction-causing dance that would go on and on until the energy level became so unbearable that the built-up power would have to be released.
To the spectators, the younger Master of Sinanju seemed strong and agile, but the old Master exuded a sense of quiet confidence and grace.
At the center of the crowd, Remo washed slowly around the flawlessly artful movements of his mentor.
Chiun had yet to attack. One thing was certain-Remo would be damned if he'd be the one to strike the first blow. If Chiun was so sure of his allegiance to Man Hyung Sun, he would have to be the first to lash out. Only then would Remo defend himself. But so far, Chiun had not fired a fist.
The surge of raw, violent power welling up around them was beginning to throw off Remo's senses. His nervous system was so finely tuned that it could not long take exposure to the kind of unseen dynamic energy that was produced by another Master of Sinanju. It was like putting a magnet next to a compass.
Expecting an attack, they had both cranked up their senses to the limit. When one did not materialize, they still could not tune down their level of preparedness, lest in relaxing either one of them would leave himself open to an assault from the other.
Remo was beginning to sweat. Across the cold plain, he could see beads of perspiration break out on the furrowed parchment forehead of the Master of Sinanju.
They were both beginning to tire.
Remo felt dizzy. He tried to concentrate the awkward sensation away.
Chiun suddenly stumbled over a small stone that was jutting from the frozen mud. He caught his balance quickly, resuming his deliberate circuit around Remo. Though he did not otherwise show it, the point was made. He was feeling as lightheaded as Remo.
The parked cars swept up behind Remo as the two men pirouetted around one another. He felt the crowd, more dense at his back toward the road.
Ordinarily, he would have been able to hear and sort every individual heartbeat within the multitude. Here, they were just background noise. A cacophony of thudding.
He circled back around. Chiun was now moving toward the road. They were almost to the point where both of them were parallel to the stretch of desolate roadway when Remo's senses picked up something from the string of army vehicles.
It was an odd sensation. Something concentrated, directed at him.
No. Beyond him now.
As Chiun moved toward the road, Remo realized that whatever had been focussed on him was now aimed at Chiun.
He was straining too hard. It was too difficult to push his senses farther than Chiun. He was about to shift his attention solely back to the Master of Sinanju when he heard a distinct metallic sound. It spurred him to action.
Without warning, Remo lunged at Chiun.
The Master of Sinanju seemed genuinely shocked that Remo would actually attack him. His almond-shaped eyes opened wide as he prepared a defensive blow. But there was no defense to what Remo next did.
Using every ounce of Sinanju-trained strength and energy in its most crude form, Remo flung himself clumsily atop Chiun. The two men toppled in an awkward bundle to the frozen rice paddy.
A lone bullet sang over both their heads.
As the rifle crackled through the wasteland, the fascinated crowd scattered in a panic. The collection of men-including the president and premier-ran for cover behind various vehicles.
"Get off, lummox!" the Master of Sinanju demanded. He batted and pushed Remo off him.
Another shot rang out. Remo threw himself back on top of Chiun, pushing both of their bodies to one side as he did so. The second bullet thudded into the earth where they had been.
"This is inexcusable!" Chiun shrieked. He kicked Remo away, scampering quickly to his feet. "Why do you leap on me like a perverted ox?"
"I was saving your life," Remo growled.
A few more shots rang out. The friction that had been building between them was now broken. With their senses back to normal, the latest volleys were easily avoided by both men.
"You were doing no such thing, for I am about to die of embarrassment. Have I trained you to be Bulk Hogan?"
"I figured you'd thank me. I know you were too far away to sense him."
"I was no such thing," Chiun sniffed. He adjusted his kimono skirts with fussing agitation.
"Whatever," Remo replied, annoyed.
They turned in unison to see who it was who had started taking potshots at them. Remo was not completely surprised to spot Rim Kun Soe bracing a rifle against the hood of a parked North Korean army jeep.
Running, the two of them crossed the distance to Soe before he was able to squeeze off another shot. Remo yanked the gun away from the Public Security Ministry man, cracking it in half. He dropped the two sections to the ground.
"What is the meaning of this!" Chiun demanded.
"He's ticked at you for calling him the son of a Pyongyang whore the whole time we were at the Berlin embassy," Remo supplied for Soe.
"Oh, and am I now to be shot at for speaking the truth?" Chiun asked, jamming his fists against his hips.
"He was also probably trying to keep you from carving him a new belly button for not getting all your gold back to Sinanju." Remo smiled at Soe. "Just because I didn't say anything, it doesn't mean I missed your jaw smacking the dashboard when I mentioned the gold."
Chiun's eyes had grown wide. "This is true?" he cried, his voice rising several octaves.
"It is not my fault," Soe begged. "A government edict froze all incoming freight. I discovered the last shipment in a storage area when I was reassigned to the airport."
The premier of the North and the president of the South had come forward once Remo had disarmed Soe. At the security man's latest revelation, however, Kim Jong Il began to tiptoe slowly backward.
Chiun wheeled on the two leaders. Kim froze.
"Does this pile of dog droppings speak the truth?"
"All deliveries were held up at the airport after the head incident," Kim Jong Il admitted uncomfortably. "I suppose some of your gold could have been left behind. But it wasn't my idea," he added quickly, raising his hands in a defensive posture.
"Observe your future, crazed offspring of the corrupt Kim Il Sung."
Chiun raised a finger as he spoke, long nail extended. With a daggerlike thrust, the sharpened nail penetrated the belly of Rim Kun Soe.
The security officer's eyes grew wide in shock as Chiun wrenched upward. The razor-sharp nail sliced from Soe's navel to his sternum. Steaming organs slipped from their resting place, plopping to the frozen ground like heavy water balloons.
Soe's mouth formed a frantic, slow-motion O. But even as the intense pain was registering, he was pitching forward. He fell on the viscous bags of his own internal organs. Once he dropped, he did not stir again.
Chiun aimed the killing nail at the body of Soe.
"That is you if my gold is not in Sinanju this day," the Master of Sinanju intoned to the North Korean premier.
"I swear it will be done," Kim Jong Il insisted. His eyes were sick as he looked down on the security man's body.
The premier scampered back to his limousine. Throwing his driver out onto the ground, he climbed behind the wheel. Almost as soon as the engine started, the car began making a huge circle through the field next to the road. Straightening out, it zoomed back in the direction of Pyongyang.
"That is that," Chiun said, satisfied. "Now, where were we?" He turned back to Remo.
Remo wasn't paying attention to the old Korean. He was glancing along the line of cars. "Where's Sun?" he asked.