No Contest

The first crash came in the third race. There was just one woman in the field and she was easily the most skillful nude luger among them. Her quick start gave her an immediate lead, but the young man in second place luged aggressively and closed the gap. At the second long curve he bit his lip and leaned carefully, hardly reducing his speed.

“That dope’s trying for an inside pass,” the baby-faced man blurted, trying not to blink as he maneuvered his thighs to aim his camera. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

But he wasn’t going to make it. Remo and Chiun saw it even before the kid did.

He started his pass inside, pulled alongside the intense-looking woman in the lead, then the young man’s wheels lost their purchase. He skidded sideways for a few feet before flipping into the leader, then they logrolled off the track and across the rocky hillside. The hill descended underneath them, and their momentum continued all the way down to the bottom. They flopped to a halt, their bloody, naked bodies tangled together.

“Woo-hoo! Now that’s extreme, friend!” the man with the camcorder shouted.

“Little Father, would you think less of me if I upchucked?” Remo asked.

“Not at all. But do it elsewhere.”

Each time Chiun was sure the Western world could sink no lower, a new and more repulsive form of exploitation and entertainment was unveiled. Remo, as white as he was, at least had the good taste to be disgusted with these proceedings. If only he would stop asking when they could leave…

“If you know what Emperor Smith suspects, then you know what we are here to do,” Chiun chided.

“I know what you are here to do. I don’t work there anymore, remember?”

Another headstrong act of rebellion by the Master of Sinanju. Chiun sighed mentally.

“That skydiving thing in Montana was worth millions.

I seriously doubt nude luge is big business,” Remo added.

“You are seriously mistaken, then,” Chiun said. “See how the crowd grows? It is still early in the day and the number of spectators will swell by three times before the climactic races of the day. The ultimate winner will receive great reward.”

“Really? How much?”

“Figure it out for yourself. See it as an opportunity to educate yourself.”

Remo asked the infant-like man with whom he had apparently formed a deep friendship.

“Today’s purse is a hundred grand cash,” the man said. “That gets you into the semifinals, then the finals. Whoever wins this year’s championship goes home with a cool million bucks, buddy. Plus endorsement, contracts like you wouldn’t believe.”

“A million bucks? For riding a skateboard naked?”

“It’s harder than it looks.”

“Hey, Little Father, I just got a great idea,” Remo said, turning to Chiun, who felt the cold hand of dread on his age-weary and weakening heart.

“My son, do not even say the words.”

“You and I both know I could whup these losers.” Remo was wearing the same grin that was worn by the young pranksters who untied fishing nets in Sinanju to vex the adults. This was not like untying nets. Remo was joking, surely. “Please do not pull on my leg.”

“I’m serious. I need a job, right? And look what drops right into my lap—an easy cool million. All I have to do is get naked and roll down the hill a few times.”

Chiun waved his words away. They were unworthy of a response.

“Okay, then. Let’s leave. I’m bored.”

“We will stay until the finals in order to unmask the perpetrator of poor sportsmanship.”

Remo conferred further with his friend, then barked loudly, “What?” He turned back to Chiun. “He says there’s twelve more races before the finals. It goes until dusk. I’m not sitting here until dusk.”

“Then go.”

“But you’re going to stay and keep handling the stakeout?”

“Yes. I am obliged to fulfill our contract as best I can.”

“I’m not going to leave you here by yourself.”

“Why not?” Chiun demanded.

Remo didn’t answer, instead saying, “Extreme Nude Luge it is, then. I’m going to take a walk before the next big race.” He walked away.

Chiun was not so blind he could not see that Remo was saying absurd things to get a reaction. Chiun didn’t believe for an instant that the headstrong young fool would actually carry through with his threat. Still, he felt a niggle of dread when the next event was announced. The racers gathered near the top of the hill. Chiun examined the naked men and was vastly relieved that none was Remo Williams. All were typical American fat men. Remo had failings—many in fact—but he was not obese.

Churn’s alarm resurged when he spotted Remo flitting around the mountain, disappearing from view where there were apparently stairs along the backside of the hill to the starting gate.