thedestroyer.slavesafari-第4章

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knowingly　fulfilled　an　ancient　prediction　made　soon　after　the　Loni　tribe　had　lost　its　empire：
　〃Terror　from　the　East　shall　join　with　terror　from　the　West；　and　woe　to　the　enslavers　of　the　Loni　when　the　destroyer　of　worlds　walks　along　the　Busati。〃
　
　CHAPTER　THREE　
　His　name　Was　Remo　and　his　life　was　being　made　miserable　by　a　television　programming　decision。
　〃Because　of　our　coverage　of　the　Senate1　investigation　into　Watergate；　As　the　Planet　Revolves　and　Dr。　Lawrence　Walters；　Psychiatrist…at…Large　will　not　be　shown　today；〃　the　announcer　had　said。
　When　Remo　heard　that；　he　uttered　his　first　prayer　since　childhood。　〃Lord；　have　mercy　on　us　all。〃
　The　wisp　of　an　Oriental　who　had　sat　placid　in　his　golden　kimono　before　the　color　television　set；　let　out　a　sound　Remo　had　heard　him　use　but　once　before；　and　then　only　in　his　sleep。
　〃Yaaawk；〃　said　Chiun；　the　Master　of　Sinanju；　his　wisp　of　a　white　beard　shaking　in　disbelief。　It　was　if　someone　had　hit　the　old　man　a　body　blow…that　is；　if　there　was　a　man　who　walked　the　earth　who　could　do　that；　which　Remo　doubted　very　much。
　〃Why　is　this？　Why　is　this？〃　demanded　Chiun。
　〃Not　me；　Little　Father。　Not　me。　I　didn't　do　it。〃
　〃Your　government　did　it。〃
　〃No；　no。　The　television　people　did　it。　They　thought　that　more　people　would　want　to　watch　the　Senate　investigation　than　the　soap　operas。〃
　Chiun　pointed　a　long　bony　finger　at　the　set　The　long　fingernail　seemed　to　quiver。
　〃Who　would　want　to　watch　those　ugly　white　men　when　they　can　see　the　beauty　and　the　rhythm　and　the　grace　of　true　drama？〃
　〃Well；　they　have　polls；　Chiun。　And　they　question　people　about　what　they　like　and　don't　like　and　I　guess　they　figured　more　people　would　want　to　watch　the　investigations　than　your　serials。〃
　〃They　did　not　ask　me；〃　said　Chiun。　〃No　one　asked　me。　Who　asked　me？　If　they　asked　me；　I　would　say　let　the　beauty　of　the　drama　remain。　Beauty　is　rare　but　investigations　you　have　with　you　always。　Where　is　this　person　who　does　the　questioning？　I　would　speak　with　him　for　surely　he　would　be　interested　in　my　opinion　also。〃
　〃You're　not　going　to　kill　a　pollster；　Little　Father；〃　said　Remo。
　〃Kill？〃　said　Chiun；　as　if　Remo　had　broached　the　subject　to　a　Carmelite　nun；　instead　of　the　most　deadly　assassin　in　existence。
　〃Those　things　do　tend　to　happen；　Chiun；　when　someone　gets　in　the　way　of　your　daytime　shows。　Or　are　you　forgetting　Washington　and　those　FBI　men；　or　New　York　and　all　those　Mafiosi？　You　remember。　They　turned　off　your　programs。　Chicago　and　the　union　thugs。　Remember？　Remember　who　had　to　get　rid　of　the　bodies？　Do　you　forget　those　little　things；　Little　Father？〃
　〃I　remember　beauty　being　interrupted　and　an　old　man；　who　has　given　the　best　years　of　all　his　skills　to　an　ingrate；　being　reprimanded　for　attempting　to　enjoy　a　moment　of　beauty。〃
　〃You　have　a　very　selective　memory。〃
　〃In　a　country　that　fails　to　appreciate　beauty；　a　memory　which　forgets　ugliness　is　a　necessity。〃
　And　that　had　begun　the　renewed　personal　supervision　of　Remo's　training　by　the　Master　of　Sinanju。　No　longer　could　Remo　do　his　exercises　alone。　Deprived　of　his　daytime　TV　shows；　Chiun　had　to　supervise　the　basics　and　Remo　could　do　nothing　right。
　Sitting　by　Lake　Patusick　in　the　Massachusetts　Berkshires　where　they　rented　a　cottage　for　the　spring；　Remo　heard　Chiun　tell　him　he　breathed　like　a　wrestler。　During　the　water　movements；　Chiun　screamed　that　Remo　moved　like　a　duck；　and　when　Remo　was　doing　the　stomach　flips…an　exercise　in　which　Remo　lay　flat　on　his　stomach　and　then　used　his　abdominal　muscles　to　flip　himself　over　onto　his　back…Chiun　said　Remo　moved　like　a　baby。　〃You　should　have　a　nurse；　not　the　Master　of　Sinanju。　That　was　slow　and　clumsy。〃
　Remo　assumed　the　position　again；　the　spring　grass　near　the　cool　Berkshire　lake　tickling　his　cheeks；　the　smell　of　the　fresh　muddy　rebirth　of　life　in　his　nostrils；　the　morning　sun　on　his　bare　back；　illuminating　but　not　warming。　He　waited　for　Chiun's　click　of　fingers　to　signal　the　flip。　It　was　a　simple　exercise；　trained　into　his　reflexes　more　than　a　decade　before；　as　he　began　the　training　that　changed　a　man　the　public　thought　had　been　electrocuted　into　the　killer　arm　of　a　secret　organization　that　was　designed　to　fight　crime。
　Remo　waited　for　the　snap　of　the　fingers　but　it　did　not　e。　Chiun　was　having　him　wait。　Better　to　wait；　he　thought；　than　have　to　find　a　place　to　put　the　body　of　the　man　who　was　responsible　for　taking　As　the　Planet　Revolves　off　the　air。　He　felt　a　slight　pressure　on　his　back；　probably　a　leaf　failing。
　He　heard　the　snap　of　Chiun's　fingers　and　his　stomach　muscles　slapped　the　ground　like　springs　released　from　restraint；　but　his　body　did　not　spin　around　as　Remo　expected。　The　instant　pressure　of　two　feet　on　his　back　sent　his　body　flat　down　in　the　wet　spring　mud。　Remo　spit　the　mud　out　of　his　mouth。　It　was　not　a　leaf　he　had　felt　fall　on　his　back；　but　the　Master　of　Sinanju　alighting；　weightlessly　on　him。　Remo　heard　the　chuckles　above　him。
　〃Do　you　need　help；　little　baby？〃
　To　the　untrained　eye；　it　would　appear　that　a　thirtish　man　of　moderate　build　with　extra　thick　wrists　and　dark　hair　had　attempted　a　pushup　and　failed　because　an　old　Oriental　was　standing　on　his　back。　Actually；　the　force　expended　by　both　men　could　shatter　slate。
　This　simple　little　accident　was　viewed　by　three　men　who　had　walked　around　from　the　front　of　the　cottage　and　now　stood　watching　the　pair…the　young　white　man　face　in　mud；　the　aged　Oriental　giggling。
　The　three　men　wore　dark　business　suits。　The　shortest　carried　a　briefcase；　the　others　。25　caliber　Berettas　that　they　believed　were　hidden　under　their　jackets。
　〃I'm　looking　for　a　Remo　Mueller；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。　Remo　lifted　his　head　from　the　mud　and　felt　Chiun　alight　from　his　back。　He　wanted　to　send　a　razor　sharp　hand　into　the　old　man's　giggling　face；　but　he　knew　the　cutting　edge　of　the　hand　would　be　jelly　before　it　ever　touched　the　face。　Perhaps　in　ten　years；　his　mind　and　body　would　equal　Chiun's　and　then　maybe　Chiun　would　not　use　Remo　as　a　punching　bag　for　his　frustrations。
　Remo　saw　by　the　way　the　two　taller　men　stood　that　they　were　carrying　weapons。　There　is　a　reaction　of　the　body　to　a　weapon　it　carries；　a　certain　heaviness　of　the　body　around　the　weapon。　The　two　men　stood　with　heaviness。
　〃Remo　Mueller？〃　asked　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Yes。　That's　me；〃　said　Remo；　spitting　out　mud。　He　had　been　given　the　name　Mueller　several　weeks　before。　This　was　the　first　time　he'd　heard　anyone　use　it；　and　he　wondered　if　it　should　be　pronounced　Muell…er　as　in　fuel；　or　Muell…er　as　in　full。　This　man　pronounced　it　as　in　full。
　〃The　name's　pronounced　Mueller。。。　as　in　fuel；〃　Remo　said；　deciding　that　Chiun　had　no　corner　on　perversity　this　day。
　〃I'd　like　to　talk　to　you　about　a　magazine　article　you　wrote　for　the　National　Forum　of　Human　Relations。〃
　Magazine　article。　Magazine　article；　thought　Remo。　Sometimes　upstairs　planted　an　article　under　his　byline　when　they　wanted　to　give　him　a　cover　as　a　magazine　reporter；　but　he　did　not　remember　being　informed　of　any　article　by　upstairs　recently。　He　had　been　told　to　rest。
　Remo　stared　blankly　at　the　man。　What　could　he　say？　〃Let　me　see；　the　article　I　was　supposed　to　have　written。〃　Upstairs　moved　in　peculiar　ways；　right　from　the　first　day　when　former　Newark　policeman　Remo　Williams　discovered　that　upstairs　had　been　responsible　for　the　frameup　that　put　him　in　the　electric　chair；　and　equally　responsible　for　getting　him　out　alive；　the　man　who　did　not　exist　for　the　agency　which　did　not　exist
　The　explanation　was　simple；　as　most　of　upstairs'　explanations　were。　The　Constitution　no　longer　worked；　the　country　could　no　longer　withstand　the　onslaught　of　crime。　The　answer　was　an　organization　that　functioned　outside　the　Constitution；　doing　whatever　it　had　to　do　to　equalize　the　odds。
　〃And　I'm　the　guy　who's　going　to　do　the　dirty　work？〃　Remo　had　asked。
　〃You're　elected；〃　he　was　told。　Thus　began　a　decade　of　training　under　Chiun；　the　Master　of　Sinanju；　a　decade　in　which　Remo　had　lost　count　of　the　number　of　people　he　had　killed；　just　remembered　the　moves。
　〃Would　you　care　to　talk　inside？〃　Remo　asked　the　three　men。
　The　gentlemen　said　they　would　be　happy　to　do　so。
　〃Ask　them　if　they　know　the　vile　pollsters　of　Washington；〃　said　Chiun。
　〃I　think　this　is　business；〃　said　Remo；　hoping　that　Chiun　would　choose　to　get　lost。　Only　three　men　knew　that　the　secret　crime…fighting　organization　called　CURE　existed；　and　Chiun　was　not　one　of　them。　But　as　the　Master　of　Sinanju；　there　was　only　one　thing　he　needed　to　know　of　an　employer。　Did　he　pay　on　time　and　did　his　payments　reach　Sinanju；　the　little　Korean　village　that　Chiun　and　his　ancestors　had　supported　through　the　centuries　by　renting　out　their　deadly　assassin's　skills？　This　question　being　answered　affirmatively；　Chiun　would　not　have　cared　if　his　employer　were　the　Girl　Scouts　of　America。
　〃Business；　business；　business；〃　said　Chiun。　〃You　are　a　nation　of　businessmen。〃
　〃Your　servant？〃　asked　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Not　exactly；〃　said　Remo。
　〃Do　you　men　know　the　vile　pollsters　of　Washington？〃　asked　Chiun。
　〃We　might；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Chiun；　I　think　this　is　work。　Please；〃　said　Remo。
　〃We　can　be　of　help　in　many　ways；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃He　doesn't　need　your　help。　Inside　if　you　please；〃　said　Remo；　but　Chiun；　hearing　that　there　might　be　some　way　of　restoring　his　daytime　soap　operas　to　the　screen；　followed　the　gathering　into　the　cottage。　He　sat　cross…legged　on　the　floor　watching　the　men　on　couches　and　chairs。
　〃This　is　confidential；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。　He　had　the　quiet　authority　of　one　backed　by　much　wealth。
　〃Ignore　him；〃　Remo　said　of　Chiun。
　〃Your　magazine　article　proved　of　great　interest　to　my　employer。　I　saw　your　surprise　when　I　mentioned　it。　I　can　understand　your　wondering　how　we　saw　the　article　when　it　won't　even　be　published　until　next　week。〃
　Remo　nodded　as　if　he　knew　what　the　article　was　about
　〃I　have　a　question　for　you；〃　the　man　said。　〃Just　what　are　your　contacts　with　Busati？〃
　〃I'm　afraid　that　all　my　sources　are　confidential；〃　said　Remo　who　did　not　know　who　or　what　or　where　a　Busati　was。
　〃I　admire　your　integrity。　Mr。　Mueller；　let　me　be　frank。　We　might　want　you　for　something。〃
　〃Like　what？〃　asked　Remo；　noticing　the　edge　of　a　manuscript　poke　from　the　man's　briefcase。
　〃We'd　like　to　hire　you　as　a　consultant　for　our　offices　in　Busati。〃
　〃Is　that　my　story　you　have　in　there？〃　Remo　said。
　〃Yes。　I　wanted　to　discuss　it　with　you。〃
　Remo　reached　out　a　hand　for　the　manuscript。　〃Just　want　to　review　it　myself；〃　he　said。
　Even　under　an　assumed　name；　Remo　felt　embarrassed　by　the　story。　Busati；　he　quickly　surmised；　was　a　country。　According　to　what　he　was　supposed　to　have　written；　Busati　was　forging　new　forms　of　socialism　after　throwing　off　colonialist　chains；　under　the　guidance　of　President　General　Dada　〃Big　Daddy〃　Obode。　Any　report　of　tribal　friction　was　an　invention　of　the　neo…colonialistic　fascist　imperialistic　powers　who　feared　the　enlightened　progressive　leadership　of　the　Saviour　of　Busati；　General　Obode；　who　brought　electricity　to　the　villages；　ended　crime　in　the　capital　and　had　made　the　first　major　inroads　against　poverty　in　Busati　since　the　white　man　had　first　enslaved　the　little　nation。　Why　this　ca