"How do they know this?" demanded Chiun.
"Search me. It orbits the sun, and once every three thousand years or so, it comes within sight of the earth." Remo frowned. "Who was Master three thousand years ago?"
"If you were a true Master of Sinanju, you would not need to ask such a question." "I know the lineage of the Masters. I can recite almost every Master's name, but I can't reconcile them with Western dating."
Chiun puckered up his facial wrinkles. "Yes. Of course."
"What do you mean, of course?"
"You were raised to worship the crucified carpenter. To those of your doubtful creed, the universe began only two thousand years ago."
"That's not true-" Remo started to protest.
"Before the carpenter, there was nothing. All was darkness, without form, without light, without substance," Chiun said bitterly.
"That's not how it works. There was a time before Jesus. We just count the years backward from that point. Three B. C. is three years Before Christ."
"We count forward from Tangun, who created the first Korean. That was five thousand years ago. Before then, no one was."
"According to modern science, man has been around for about three million years or so."
"Your hairy-ape ancestors, perhaps. But not Koreans. We came along to rectify the wrongs done to this world by your simian forebears."
Remo started to protest, but decided it wasn't worth it. They had had this argument before. Instead, he changed the subject. "How's the nail?" he asked.
Chiun winced painfully.
For several months, he had been wearing the hornlike jade nail protector to guard his maimed right index fingernail, which had been sliced off by a foe wielding a supersword. It was unheard-of for a modern Master of Sinanju to be bested in close combat. Chiun was still sensitive about it.
"It grows apace," he said aridly.
"Good."
"But it lacks its full length yet. Thus, I am forced to wear this."
"It goes with the kimono."
"That is the problem. I am forced to wear only kimonos whose colors harmonize with jade. I have not worn my royal purple kimono in months. The black lies folded in darkness, wondering if it has been abandoned forever. The cinnabar wilts from disuse. The pink-"
"You'll be back in pink before you know it."
"It was Master Salbyol."
"Who?"
"Master Salbyol. He was Master when the sun dragon of three thousand years ago was seen."
Remo lifted an interested eyebrow. "Any interesting legends go with him?"
Chiun considered. "He was an indolent Master. Egypt was too far for him to travel, so he relied on Japan and China, who were not as rich as Egypt in those days."
Remo shrugged. "The House got by, I guess."
"There is no excuse for sloth," Chiun sniffed. "He blamed it on the arrow star, not himself."
"Arrow star?"
"The thing you call a comet was unknown in the Korean sky of the days of Salbyol the Indolent. It was called the arrow star because it flew like a feathered shaft through the slower stars, and was considered an evil omen. Much later other such stars appeared, and a wiser Master determined that the arrow star was no star at all, but a sun dragon."
"How'd he come to that brilliant conclusion?"
"Very simply, Remo. Every time a sun dragon rampaged among the Korean stars, a calamity would result. No arrow brought such bad luck. Therefore, it could only be a dragon."
"You know, there probably isn't a time when there isn't a calamity somewhere."
"What are you saying?" asked Chiun, eyes thinning.
"Comets don't cause calamities. That's all. It's just superstition."
"I agree with you. They do not."
"Good."
"They merely presage misfortune."
Remo suddenly noticed the full-figured woman with the cloudy black hair and jade green eyes and said, "Excuse me."
"Where are you going?" Chiun queried.
"I promised myself I'd ask the next gorgeous woman I saw for a date and I just saw her."
"She is fat."
"Voluptuous."
"Fat."
"Catch you later," said Remo, unlocking his seat belt and moving back to the rear of the cabin.
The woman sauntered as far as midcabin, where she began stretching in a way that made Remo look forward to their first date. That she would say yes was guaranteed. No woman ever turned down a Master of Sinanju. Remo sometimes thought the attraction was pheromones. The perfect grace of a body in harmony with itself might also explain the phenomenon. He'd once read that the human brain was programmed by nature to respond positively to a certain symmetry of form. Sinanju training had symmetrically harmonized Remo's body. Where most people had one eye or hand or side of their body larger than the other because the muscles were used more, Remo's form had achieved total symmetry.
Women sensed this symmetry, even if they didn't perceive it on a conscious level. This was part of Remo's innate sexual attraction.
Any way it was sliced, the green-eyed woman wasn't going to say no.
"Hi," said Remo, putting on his best disarming smile.
"Hello," she said, her voice smoky, like dry sherry. "My name is Coral."
"Remo. Going to Boston?"
"I live there."
"Me, too."
"That's great," she said, inching closer.
"I have some free time tonight."
"Me, too."
"Why don't we get together, have dinner?"
Coral was beaming now. "I'd love to." Her breath was a moist, inviting musk.
"Great," said Remo, thinking this was the way to go.
"Let me clear it with Fred first."
"Sure. Who's Fred?"
"I'll be right back"
The cloudy-haired brunette brushed past him, leaving the scent of White Diamonds on Remo's lean body, and he tried to enjoy the fragrance while she went back to her seat. He ended up having to close off his olfactory receptors. The scent, though subtle, was too powerful for his highly sensitive sense of smell. He made a mental note to ask her to go scentless on their first date.
The woman came back and said, "Fred's a little out of sorts, but it's okay."
"He'll get over it," Remo said agreeably. "Who's Fred?"
"My husband."
"Husband?"
The woman lifted her left hand and let the overhead lights play on a plain gold wedding band.
"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" Remo said angrily.
"Why didn't you look at my ring finger?" She was smiling as if it were no big deal.
"Out of practice," Remo said dispiritedly.
"I'll help you with that," she said brushing up against him with her bullet-shaped bosom.
"Look, I don't do married women."
She ran long gold nails down the front of Remo's T-shirt and purred like a lion. "Fred will get over it. He always does."
"Not the point. I don't poach on another man's preserve."
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?"
"Sure. You get to say goodbye. Goodbye," said Remo, retreating to his seat.
"You have your date?" asked the Master of Sinanju blandly.
Remo folded his arms. "Don't give me that. You overheard every word, you old reprobate."
"I would prefer to hear the story from your own lips."
"She's married."
"I knew that."
"Goody for you."
"In this land, Remo, it is customary for a married woman to wear a gold circlet about the ring finger of the hand that is closest to the heart. This signifies a woman who is taken."
"I know that!" Remo flared.
"It is good that you did not take her."
"There are other women."
"You are going about this the improper way," Chiun warned.
"Go grow your nail," growled Remo unhappily.
"And you may jump over the moon as you chase your white cows," the Master of Sinanju said huffily.
Chapter 13
The director of operations for NASA's shuttle program was only too happy to answer reporters' questions.