No Contest

She dutifully counted out tickets to the man and his ghastly clown of a wife. She disliked these crude and rude people who came to Sedona in pollutant-spewing vehicles. Mostly they were crass retirees from Phoenix, with too much time and money and too little spiritual understanding. Either that, or it was carloads of horny, drunk college boys out of Flagstaff.

This special corner of Arizona used to attract visitors who came to experience the natural auras in the Sedona countryside. They came to bask in the spiritual density radiating from the Sedona people. Back then, this place attracted the Wiccans and the earth-lovers and those who channeled the immortal souls of long dead luminaries, and that combination of rare people helped make Sedona one of the few places on Earth where the New Age of Aquarius was truly dawning.

These rude, lewd sports people didn’t get it. They came for the quick thrills. Sedona wasn’t a place for quick, vile thrills!

The ticket seller wondered what the wise old Asian man in the silk robe was doing here at the southwestern ENL quarterfinals. Surely he wasn’t here as a spectator, was he? She peered around her customers looking for him again; just seeing the resplendent, ancient man gave her ki a spiraling boost of goddess energy.

She was surprised when she couldn’t find the robed man again. He was no longer waiting to get inside. He had to have changed his mind and left this abominable place, which proved just how wise he truly was.

Chiun sniffed and looked disparagingly around him at the morning crowds milling through the entrance. None of the staff had noticed Chiun and Remo slither through the front gate without a bar-coded ticket.

“I’m here under protest,” Remo said. “For the record.”

Chiun ignored him, tromping atop the rocky top tier of sandstone bleachers, which were carved out of the desert hillside. At the bottom of the bleachers was a circular stage area, which made the entire place look like an ancient Greek amphitheater until you accounted for the hill behind it. A paved raceway curved and twisted down the hill. From the flapping green flags at the top of the hill to the finish line, where it emptied out diagonally across the stage, the track was more than a mile long.

“I know this is CURE work,” Remo said. “I just can’t figure out how we got here.”

“Is your confusion enjoyable?” Chiun marched them away from the hillside and away from the sandstone bleachers.

“Smitty didn’t know where we were going after Albuquerque, right? I never told him and I was the only one who knew. I would have assumed we were headed into Yuma if I were him. See the family and all. So instead we go west across the top of Arizona and so Smitty has a job for us. I mean you. He must have planned this little side trip since before we left.”

“He did not.”

“So when did he give you the orders to come here?” Remo demanded.

“Two hours ago,” Chiun answered.

“Two hours ago we were driving the Sinanju-mobile through the middle of nowhere. You didn’t get any phone calls. You don’t even have a cell phone.”

“The Emperor sent his request in a blog.”

“Oh,” Remo said. Now he remembered that Chiun had spent some time reading the online journals on his portable, plastic iBlogger. Remo was not computer savvy, but it made sense that the thing could receive personalized messages. Blogs were Chiun’s newest passion—replacing Spanish-language television soap operas for the time being.

Chiun chose a seat on a small stone ledge, several paces away from the designated audience bleachers.

“Since when do you let Smitty order you around in an e-mail?”

“I do not,” Chiun responded. “He has never done so before.”

“So what did he do, hack into your eye-booger account? Aren’t you afraid he’ll see what you’re reading?”

“The Emperor knows well enough not to invade my privacy,” Chiun said icily.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“He did something that’s got your tail in a knot, Chiun. What is it?”

“If you must know, he had Ms. Slate transmit the message to me.”

“What? Really? That’s really strange. What’s gotten into him, I wonder? He’s got to know he’s giving Sarah more insight into CURE. It’s like he doesn’t care if she knows.”

“Betrayal foments anarchy.”

“My betrayal you mean. So, if he spills the beans to Sarah and then needs her silenced for CURE’S sake, it’ll all be because I had the brass cojones to stand up for myself—that what you mean by ‘ferment’?”

“Mutiny is mutiny.”

“So is self-respect.”

Chiun gave him a look that said, “You are an imbecile.” Remo had seen the look before, once or twice.

“Hey, maybe you should cut me some slack since I actually went along for the ride, even though I’m no longer following CURE orders and I’ve got plans of my own.”

“What would you desire, a certificate of achievement? A ribbon with your name in gold-colored foil?” Chiun wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were riveted to the hilltop in the distance as the loudspeaker announced the first round of the day.

Remo looked around. “What’s the event? I don’t even know what we’re all here to see.”