The Wa turned to run. Panic overcame pride in him and he fled. But as he reached the stand of trees, suddenly, there was a movement alongside him, and then the American was standing in front of him, smiling at him.
The Wa turned away. He ran back, across the putting green toward the trees on the other side. But again he saw a flash of movement from the side of his eyes, and then there was the American again.
He was beckoning the Wa to come on, to come closer.
The assassin stopped. In bitter desperation, he cried: "Who are you? Who are you two?"
"Tell your ancestors about us," Remo said. "They'll know who we are."
The Wa reached desperately for one last knife on his belt. One final chance. Even as he reached he knew it would not work, but his hand closed around the red leather grip and he slipped the knife from his belt and raised it up over his head, and then he felt the white man's hand close over his. The Wa's knife moved downward, but the white man held the Wa's hand closed, and the knife, instead of releasing and flashing forward, kept moving down, and then he felt a burst of pressure against his hand, and the knife drove itself into the assassin's stomach.
So this was how it felt, he thought, and then the knowledge that he had a knife buried in his stomach came fully to him, and so did the pain, and it hurt. It hurt terribly.
Remo stepped back and looked at the assassin. Their eyes met.
And then the Wa's eyes began to glaze over and a dumb, puzzled look came over his face, and he fell forward onto his own knife. But he no longer felt any pain.
Remo looked down at the body for a moment, then up at the window of Pruiss's room. Chiun was in the window, shaking his head.
"No grace," he said. "Awkward with no grace."
"That's what I thought, too," Remo said. "I thought he was kind of clumsy."
"I didn't mean him," Chiun said bitterly, and turned from the window.
Remo confronted Chiun inside Pruiss's room.
"All right," he said. "So you get word that the assassin's around and maybe I'm in trouble, and you don't even come to see if you can help me," Remo said. "Fine partner you are."
Chiun folded his arms. "I knew you were in no danger," he said.
"How'd you know, hah? How'd you know?"
"Must we really do this?" Chiun asked.
"Just answer the question. How'd you know I wasn't in any trouble?" Remo demanded.
Chiun sighed.
"When the woman who thinks like a man called, and told me to come to save you, I knew it was a lie," he said.
"How?"
"Because she is not to be trusted. Did you not see when we were at the place of airplanes that she knew a boom..."
"Bomb," Remo said.
"...was going to explode?" Chiun looked at Remo. "No," he answered himself. "You did not see that."
He turned toward the window. "And of course you never asked yourself why the Wa assassin missed the first time. He missed because he was ordered to miss. But who would benefit by keeping this publisher person alive, but damaged? No. You did not ask yourself that either."
"What's going on here?" Pruiss demanded. "What's going on here?" He lay on his pillows watching the two men argue, his head moving from side to side as if watching a tennis match.
"And then of course you told me about your reaching twenty two steps with her and I knew that was not possible for a white woman who acted like a woman. It was obvious she was a manly woman. You would even have seen it if you had looked at the strange size of her masculine fingers. But you look and do not see, look and do not see."
"What the hell is going on here?" Pruiss roared.
"So I knew it was a trick to get me away from here," Chiun said. "And of course I did not go."
"All right," Remo said. "I'll let it go this time."
"What..." Pruiss started.
Remo turned to the publisher and told him that Theodosia had been behind it all. Her goal had been to get him to sign his empire over to her, and then to kill him.
Pruiss shook his head.
"What for? Just for the money?"
Remo shrugged. "Who knows? Who can figure out lesbians? Probably the money."
"I would have given her the money," Pruiss said. "For that, she left me a cripple?"
"I wanted to speak to you about that," Chiun said. "What would it be worth to you to use your legs again?"
"Anything."
"You will publish my stories?" Chiun asked.
"I'll publish your damn poetry," Pruiss said.
"We have a bargain," Chiun said. "Go to sleep. I must prepare."
He followed Remo out of the room.
"Prepare?" Remo said. "What are you going to prepare?"
Chiun shook his head. "That is just for effect. There is nothing to prepare."
"And you're going to make him walk again?" asked Remo.
"Of course. He can walk now," Chiun said.
"How do you figure that?"
"You did not really believe that that Indian charlatan was bringing life back to his limbs by allowing his legs to sunburn, did you?"
"No. Of course not," said Remo who was not quite that sure.
"But Mister Pruiss felt life in his limbs every morning," said Chiun. "After his sunbath."
"So?"
"And then the manly woman brought him inside again to give him his medicine and he felt no more life in his limbs."
Remo slowly began to nod.
"She called it medicine to kill Mister Pruiss's pain. But I tasted it while you were gone. It is medicine that keeps his limbs paralyzed. I have thrown it away. Without it, tomorrow his legs will return to life."
"You're awful, Chiun," said Remo.
Chiun looked at him with an angelic blank expression.
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked.
"Some people will do anything to get published," he said.
Chiun smiled, "And what of the woman?" he asked.
"I'll take care of her," Remo said. "I'll take care of all of them."
The next morning, when the previous day's medicine had worn off. Wesley Pruiss felt life returning to his legs. The feeling grew stronger all day long.
Two days later, he was able to stand again, and within two weeks he was walking.
A day later he held a press conference and announced that he was returning the ownership of Furlong County to the people of the county who had been "so hospitable and gracious in welcoming me among them." He also announced that he was setting up a private foundation that would go ahead with his plans to make Furlong County the nation's solar energy laboratory, and he would pick up all the bills for the work.
His final announcement was that he was beginning a new magazine. It would be dedicated to bringing to the public a realization of the ancient glories and beauties of the great Korean literary form, Ung poetry.
Pruiss's announcements did not get the kind of Page One coverage they normally would have. Unfortunately, they were crowded off the front pages by a terrible tragedy at the Furlong County Airport.
A gang of muggers, whom no one had seen but who must obviously have been a large gang, had fallen upon three people at the airport — Theodosia, Rachmed Baya Bam and Will Bobbin. In the melee all three were killed. The murder weapons were unusual red-handled knives, with rearing stallions engraved on the blade.
The only person noticed near the scene was a dark-haired white man with thick wrists.