Remo had shattered the statue supposed to be the vessel of Kali's evil spirit, but the spirit later returned in another form. This time as a four-armed call girl who had lured Remo into the cauldron that had been the Gulf War. He was alone then. Chiun hadn't been there to guide him. Somehow, using yellow silk strangling scarves as a symbol of the U.S. hostages in the Middle East, Kali had ignited the Gulf War.
Something terrible had happened to Remo then. He had no memory of it. Later Chiun claimed Kali had broken Remo's neck and caused Shiva to possess his body to keep it animated. Somehow Chiun had defeated Kali, cast out Shiva and reclaimed Remo as his son in Sinanju. All Remo remembered was waking up with a weird bump the size of a pigeon egg in the middle of his forehead that had to be surgically removed. Chiun claimed it was Shiva's third eye. Remo called it the goose egg that wouldn't go away.
Remo shook off the disturbing memories. "Look," he told Chiun. "That statue was wrecked. If Kali's spirit were anywhere around here, I'd smell that sex scent of hers. I'd sense something."
"Perhaps..."
"I don't. So that means they're just statues. Watch."
And deftly slipping around the Master of Sinanju, Remo floated up to the towering Kali statue.
Reaching up, he took a wrist and snapped it. The hand broke off with a splintery snap. Remo tossed it over his shoulder. It struck the glassy black floor with a clattery clunk. With a casual upward slap Remo shattered the fingers of another hand. A downward slap defingered another.
A stamp of his foot powdered the hand that fell at his feet.
Finally, with a tight fist, he cracked the statue at the exposed belly. The torso wobbled, then toppled forward.
Remo caught it, half turned and let fly.
The top of the statue went zinging out the open door to land in the street, and bounced apart into a dozen pieces of various sizes.
Remo faced Chiun. "See? No evil Kali statue. This is just some goofball cathouse or something."
Chiun padded up to the Shiva statue and looked into its austere countenance. "I detect a faint resemblance," he said, thin of voice.
"Yeah. It has two eyes, one nose and a mouth with thirty-two teeth. Same as me. That's where the resemblance begins and ends."
"There are things you do not remember," Chiun warned.
"If I don't, it's probably for good reasons," returned Remo.
"Shiva has possessed your corporeal body before."
"If you say so..."
"Several times."
"Fine. I channel Shiva on my off days. I don't feel an off day coming on."
"The last time, he promised me that he would claim you, his avatar, when the time was ripe, and not before."
"Let me know if that day ever comes," said Remo. "Now do you want to go first or should I?"
Chiun regarded Remo thinly. "You are the brave one. You may go first."
"Since when are you afraid?" asked Remo, genuinely surprised.
"When I saw those two statues in this very room," returned Chiun, his wrinkled visage darkening with shadows.
"Fine. Try not inhale too much of my dust ...."
And turning, Remo faced the mirrored double door and smacked it with one palm.
It shattered into a thousand fragments that hung in space for a long breath until the pieces recognized that they no longer belonged to a whole. Then they fell like a metallic rain.
ANWAR ANWAR-SADAT LOOKED down at the fisheries minister of Canada, Gilbert Houghton.
The man spit out his bloody rose. His hello was grudging.
"I-I-" Anwar-Sadat swallowed "-I thought we-" he cleared his throat "-I mean-"
"You thought that you were the only one upon whom I bestow the favor of my wrath?" Mistress Kali said in a metallic voice.
"That is one way to put it," Anwar-Sadat said. He averted his eyes from the lurid spectacle of the fisheries minister. This was not Anwar-Sadat's scene. Not his scene at all. What had he walked into? he wondered.
"I thought it was time my two puppets met."
"I am not your puppet," Anwar Anwar-Sadat insisted.
Gilbert Houghton spit out a sticky tendril of blood and said, "But I am. Am I your only puppet, Mistress?"
"Of course not," Mistress Kali sneered.
"But I am your most important puppet."
"You are my most useful puppet," said Mistress Kali.
The fisheries minister smiled sickly. He beamed.
Then Mistress Kali's Nile green eyes fell on Anwar Anwar-Sadat's stone features.
"Until this hour," she added coldly. "Kneel, Man who would be Pharaoh."
Anwar-Sadat stiffened his spine. "I will not. I am a UN diplomat."
"And I am the woman who baited her hook with your miserable penis and reeled you in like a fish. Kneel or be flayed!"
"You would not dare."
"Kiss my feet and I will spare your hide of a splitting."
"Resist," Gilbert Houghton hissed.
"Should I?"
"Yes. I want to hear the crack of the whip on your recalcitrant ass. It will make me hard as a bone."
On reconsideration, Anwar Anwar-Sadat said, "I will kneel."
And lifting his trouser legs so the knees did not bag, he got down on one knee, like a knight before his queen.
"Both knees," Mistress Kali insisted.
"Very well." The second knee fell to the floor.
"Now prostrate yourself before my magnificence."
"Prostrate? Do you mean-?"
A gloved hand reached down, seized his hair and pushed his head down violently.
Anwar Anwar-Sadat's forehead banged the floor. A spiked heel pressed into the back of his neck, then withdrew.
A very pointed toe slipped under his downcast face.
"Kiss it and be mine."
Anwar Anwar-Sadat hesitated. But only for a moment. The stiletto heel returned into his neck vertebrae, and he planted his dry lips to the black vinyl. A peck. He hoped there were no hidden cameras.
The heel came off his neck.
With a tug of her leash, Mistress Kali brought the fisheries minister closer. They faced one another, two dogs at the heel of their mistress.
"This one," she said, giving the leash a headjerking tug, "is ambitious. He seeks to be prime minister. He believes that he can accomplish this by strutting his balls on the global stage and facing down the United States while blaming Quebec for the conflict we engineered."
"Is this true? Is this your plan?" Anwar-Sadat demanded.
"It would have worked, but someone sunk my sub," Gilbert Houghton said dolefully.
"It is a very intriguing plan," Anwar Anwar-Sadat admitted.
"Thank you," said Gilbert Houghton. "But I must kindly ask you to stay away from my mistress."
"She is my mistress."
"You think a slavish peck on her boot will make her yours? I have tasted her lash. I have licked her in places you will never see. Have you?"
"I hope not to," Anwar Anwar-Sadat said truthfully.
And he felt the boot heel press into his neck again.
"Now, this one," Mistress Kali said, "seeks global power." Her voice dripped with scorn and contempt. "He has failed to bring the world into his orbit, so now he seeks control of the seas as a way to control nations."
"It was your idea," Anwar-Sadat reminded. "This control of the sea."
"Interesting concept," said Gilbert Houghton.
"I have not yet begun."
Mistress Kali interrupted. "Both schemes are mine. Now they are one. You have both worked my will in the world. Now you will work together."