"Well, that's that. Gordons will never bother us again, Verapaz is a bad memory and, according to the news, Mexico is picking up the pieces. And the kid has a good home. There's only one last thing."
Chiun lifted a thin eyebrow. "And that is?"
"What's in this freaking trunk?"
Chiun lifted his bearded chin resolutely. "That is for me to know and you to find out."
"In other words, I'm doomed to lug this thing around for you until I break down and shit-can my nail clippers?"
Chiun smiled. "Yes."
"Never happen."
"When the suspense becomes unendurable, we speak of this matter again."
"Until then, do me a favor?"
"What is that, my son?"
"Next Father's Day, remind me to send Sunny Joe a card."
"If you fail to send one to me, who is your father in spirit, great will be your shame."
"Count on it." They climbed into the jeep. "Hey!" Remo said. "I wonder if I'll get one, too."
"You should live so long," sniffed the Master of Sinanju.