"Your tribe. By what name does it go?"
"You never heard of them," Roam said evasively. "So what are we going to do with the children? They sure won't fit into our little jeep. Or this thing either," he added, smacking the APC's flank with his meaty hand.
"Perhaps they are safer here," Chiun said slowly, as he saw Sheryl drive up. She honked her horn repeatedly. "Uh-oh, I don't like the sound of that," Roam said ominously.
Sheryl leaned her head out the jeep's window, calling, "Look!" She pointed at the sky.
There, five airplanes were finishing writing a message in puffs of white vapor: RESISTANCE WILL END OR YOUR CHILDREN WILL DIE!
Roam grunted deep in his throat. "Empty threat now. "
"No," Chiun replied. "For if they have this school, they have the others."
"Damn! What are we going to do?"
"I know the Japanese mind," Chiun said levelly. "They ruled my homeland for many bitter years. They will instigate reprisals for what we have done."
"We gotta get those kids to safety. How about we make a dash for the reservation? The Japs might not have bothered with my people. The kids would be as safe there as anywhere."
"No," Chiun said. "There is a better way. We will send them back to their own homes."
"I get it. It's harder to bring down one pigeon than a flock of them, right?"
"Exactly. Come."
Moving rapidly, they emptied the school. The children were sent off in groups, older ones paired with the younger. It took most of the afternoon, but by the time they were done, every child had escaped into the city.
"Some of them might not make it," Sheryl said as she watched the last of them go.
"Some of them will not," Chiun said flatly.
"Then why send them? Wasn't there a better way?"
"The only other way was the desert. None of them would have survived the desert. Come."
They got into the jeep in silence.
Sheryl put the key into the ignition. "Look. If it's as bad as we think, we won't get through the city unchallenged. Not in broad daylight. My house isn't far from here. What do you say?"
"The little gal makes sense," Roam said.
"Agreed," Chiun said. "For if we are to deal with this situation, I must devise a plan."
"Deal?" Sheryl said as she spun the car around and ran in toward the city. "I vote we just wait until the Marines or the Rangers or whatever land."
"That is the problem with you people," Chiun sniffed. He was watching the puffy skywriting spread and thin.
"What people?" Sheryl wanted to know as she took an off ramp.
"Americans," Chiun returned. "You are such creatures of your technology. Do you remember the time those whales were trapped in an ice hole?"
"Sure thing. It was in all the papers. What about it?"
"The Eskimo wanted to begin cutting a channel to the sea to release them," Chiun went on, "but the Americans refused to allow this. They said that when their ice-crushing ships arrived, they would do the job faster."
"And they came."
"After many delays in which the animals suffered. The ships could not break the ice fast enough. Finally the Americans relented and the Eskimo were allowed to begin cutting a channel by hand."
"As I recall, between them they got the job done."
"One animal died. Had the Americans not insisted on waiting for their mighty technology, no animals would have died, and the others would not have suffered."
"Am I missing something here? What does that have to do with our situation?"
"Americans always act helpless while waiting for their technology to arrive. It does not always arrive in time, nor does it always work when it does."
"What he's saying, Sheryl," Bill Roam cut in, "is that we can't afford to wait for the Marines."
"But they're coming, aren't they? I mean, the U.S. government isn't exactly going to sit on their duffs while Yuma is terrorized."
"You don't know the military," Roam said tightly. "The first thing they're going to be looking at is their posteriors. "
"That's crazy talk, Sunny Joe," Sheryl retorted. "This is America, not some banana republic where anyone can just waltz in and take over."
"Got news for you, kid. They already have."
"Oh." Sheryl sent the jeep down Arizona Avenue and took a right onto Twenty-fourth Street. The roads were deserted. Crude signs hung from lampposts: CURFEW IN EFFECT. VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT. "We're gonna be awful conspicuous," she muttered.
As they drove past Kennedy Memorial Park, they saw the bodies twisting in the trees.
"Hell!" Roam exploded. "Don't look now, but they hung the City Council."
A T-62 tank suddenly lunged from the park like a sluggish spider from its lair. Sheryl hit the brakes. The Ninja slewed wildly. She pulled hard on the wheel and sent the machine in a tight circle.
Too tight, as it turned out. The Nishitsu Ninja heeled like a sloop in a stiff crosswind. It went over on its side and it slid until friction brought it to a halt.
Chiun flung the door open and crawled out. Bill Roam unfolded his long lanky frame after him. Together they pulled Sheryl from the interior.
The T-62 clanked to a halt.
Swiftly the overturned vehicle was surrounded by tight-faced Japanese.
"You surrender!" one spat fiercely.
"Dammit, they got us!" Sheryl said woozily. "All right, we-"
"No!" Chiun said coldly. "We will never surrender." The Japanese stepped closer.
"For God's sake," Sheryl hissed, "they'll shoot us."
"You surrender, woman!" the Japanese repeated.
Before Sheryl could say anything, Chiun snapped, "None of us will surrender. We demand to be taken to your leader."
The Japanese hesitated. Their rifle muzzles quivered nervously. Finally the squad leader relaxed slightly. "Okay, we take you," he said.
"Do as they say," Chiun whispered. "The Japanese despise those who surrender. Trust me."
"Look, chief," Bill Roam protested, "I can't go along with this. We may not be prisoners exactly, but we sure as hell ain't free either. I've got to get to my people."
"You are no good to them dead," Chiun warned.
Roam's big fists were clenched tightly. His sun-squint eyes switched between the encircling Japanese.
"My people depend on me," he said quietly.
"I understand your concern. Do as I say, and you may live to see them again. "
"And if they're dead?"
"Then I will help you avenge them," Chiun promised, his steely eyes on the Japanese.
"I'm going to count on that," Roam said as the Japanese yanked them apart and searched them for weapons. Roam endured it stoically, his arms raised. Sheryl's face turned a bright red as two soldiers ran their hands up and down her tight dungarees. Chiun slapped the first Japanese who dared to lift the hem of his kimono. The second one lost the use of his hands. None of the others made a move toward him after that.
They were marched at gunpoint down the center of the deserted street. The sun was setting. The T-62 muttered behind them.
"What do you think is going to happen to us?" Roam asked out of the side of his mouth.
"I will meet the man who has killed my son."
"And what are you going to do when you meet him?" Sheryl asked nervously.
"I do not know," Chiun admitted.
Sheryl and Sunny Joe both looked at the impassive face of the Master of Sinanju. It was fixed, as if preserved by a veneer of beeswax. His old eyelids squeezed into walnut slits.
The Nishitsu corporate jet circled Yuma International Airport while tanks were withdrawn from the runway. Jiro Isuzu watched it touch down. He stood at attention in his PLA uniform, his ancestral samurai sword at his hip. Behind him, a black Lincoln Continental limousine waited like a hearse. As the jet rolled to a whining halt, an honor guard of his men rushed to form two lines between him and the aircraft.