It was morning. It shouldn't be morning. His internal clock read a little after one in the afternoon. Even in sleep it kept track of the passing hours. Yet the sunlight streaming into the white-walled room where he awoke was morning bright.
Then he remembered.
Remo snapped himself up from his pillow-and the world reeled.
The door flew open with a crash, and Remo slapped his hands over his ears because they seemed suddenly as sensitive as the skin under his fingernails.
"Lazy slugabed! Get up. Get up."
"Chiun?"
The Master of Sinanju began tearing off sheets and bedclothes. "I have been up for hours. Why do you worry me without reason?"
Remo grabbed his head to make the white-walled room stop spinning before his eyes. "What happened?" he said thickly.
"You succumbed to vile sorcery."
"I did?"
"It is no shame."
"Wait a minute. What happened to you?"
"I rescued you, of course," Chiun said casually, as if dismissing a trifle.
Remo glared. "Chiun."
The Master of Sinanju turned his back on his pupil. Remo recognized the evasive set of his shoulders.
"Chiun, it got you, too, didn't it?"
"Why do you say that?" Chiun said aridly.
"Because if it didn't, you'd be telling me how you mounted Sam Beasley's head on a post somewhere."
"Do not speak that name to me."
"You talk to Smith?"
Chiun turned. "I have not had time."
A doctor entered. She carried a clipboard in one hand, and a stethoscope hung around her neck. She was fifty and wore her brown hair up in a bun. "Ah, I see you're awake."
Chiun blocked the way. "Lay not hands on my son."
"I'm his doctor."
"You are a woman. It is not proper."
"I examined you when they brought you in, too, you know," the doctor said.
Chiun blushed bright crimson, and if steam didn't exactly escape from his ears, he gave a good impression of an embarrassed boiler.
The doctor came over and inserted the earpieces of her stethoscope into her ears and laid the other end against Remo's chest. "I'm Dr. Jeffcoat. How are we feeling today?"
"What happened to us?" Remo inquired.
"You tell me. I couldn't get anything out of your friend."
Chiun snorted loudly. "I am not his friend. I am his father."
"Adopted," corrected Remo.
"Which one of you is the adopted one?"
"He is," Remo and Chiun said together.
Dr. Jeffcoat said, "Tell me the last thing you remember."
"Green."
"Green what?"
"Just green. It was a vicious green. I hated how green it was."
"It frightened you?" the doctor asked.
"Maybe," Remo admitted.
Chiun laid a palm over his purple-trimmed black velvet kimono. "He is fearless, but I am even more so."
"Didn't I see you run out of that truck like a bat out of hell?" Remo asked Chiun.
"You did not!"
Dr. Jeffcoat said, "You were found unconscious in your own vomit. Both of you."
Remo cracked a smile. "Good thing I was wearing clean underwear." Then, in a more serious tone, he asked, "Can you explain it?"
"Not from what you just told me. But something caused a massive convulsion of the vagus nerve."
"The what?"
"Vagus nerve. It's in the brain stem. You've heard of the fight-or-flight reaction?"
"Sure," said Remo. "People get scared. Some run, some fight. It depends on the person."
"Unless you train it out of him," Chiun grunted.
"Part of the fight-or-flight response involves an involuntary reaction of the part of the vagus nerve which terminates in the stomach," Dr. Jeffcoat explained. "It causes the stomach to contract with great violence. I guess that's so if you run from danger, you're carrying a lighter load and there's less chance of the stomach cramping if it's empty."
"I don't remember being scared."
"From what you described and the way they found you," the doctor said, unplugging her stethoscope, "you were scared green."
"Scared by green," Remo corrected.
"Have it your way." Dr. Jeffcoat started for the door. "By the way, I hope you're both covered by insurance."
"We have universal health care," said Chiun loftily.
"No one has that yet-if they ever will."
"Ask your President if you do not believe me."
"Cash okay?" Remo asked.
"Cash," Dr. Jeffcoat said, closing the door, "is king around these parts."
After she was gone, Remo said, "Time to call Smith."
Chiun rushed to Remo's bedside.
"Do not tell Emperor Smith of my embarrassment," he pleaded.
"What'll you give me?"
Chiun frowned. "What do you want?"
"How many thousand years do I have to cook dinner for you?"
Three.
"Let's cut it to two, shall we?"
"Robber!"
And Remo laughed as he dialed. His stomach felt as if it had been boiled in carbolic acid. He couldn't remember the last time he had thrown up.
HAROLD SMITH SOUNDED as if he had been gargling with carbolic acid when Remo got him on the line. His voice was haggard.
"Yeah. Who'd you think?"
"I have heard nothing from you for two days. I thought you were dead."
"Neither of us are dead."
"What happened?"
"We ran into Beasley. He was stage-managing everything, I guess."
"Where is he?"
"Search me. Chiun and I are in a hospital somewhere recuperating."
"One moment." The line hummed. "Remo, you are in the popular Spring Hospital."
"How'd you know that?"
"Telephone back trace."
"Beasley got us with something green."
"What do you mean by something green?"
"A light or something. It was the ugliest green you ever saw, Smitty. It made me sick to my stomach. The doctor said my vagus nerve went crazy."
"Are you saying your flight-or-fight response was tripped by a green light?"
"I'm saying I pitched forward into my own puke and it's a day later."
"Two days."
Remo closed his eyes. "Fill me in, Smitty."
"The Beasley U.S.A. matter has been resolved. There is a truce. All combatants have agreed to stand down until the Virginia State legislature has decided the disposition of the parcel of land adjoining Petersburg National Battlefield earmarked for sale to the Beasley Corporation."
"Then it's over."
"It has just begun. We have a problem in France."
"We always have a problem with France."
"This is different."
"Smitty, I'm not up to dealing with the French. Not on an empty stomach, anyway."
"Remo, listen to me. Two days ago French warplanes bombed Euro Beasley."
"Is that good or bad?"
"We have an international crisis brewing. The French have entirely surrounded Euro Beasley and are refusing to allow anyone to enter or leave."
"Is that good or bad?"
"The French National Assembly have rushed through emergency legislation forbidding the speaking of English within the borders of France."
"Huh?"
"American businessmen and tourists are being thrown out of the country. Our Senate has threatened retaliation. A U.S. mob was intercepted in boats near the Statue of Liberty. They were carrying acetylene torches. One confessed to a plan to dismantle Liberty and send her back to France in pieces. Someone blew up the French pavilion at Epcot Center. Quebec is in an uproar. We are on the verge of a war with France."
"Over a theme park?"
"The specifics are difficult to determine. But you and Chiun must go to France and find out why Euro Beasley is under seige."
"Probably the admission prices," muttered Remo. "What about Beasley?"
"Do you know where he is?"
"No," Remo admitted. "I only know where I am because you told me."