No Contest

The blaring announcer said the race was the first in the second round of elimination. Chiun’s imagination ran riot, wondering what spectacular grotesque was being added to the race to make it even more appealing to the audience of trashy whites. Soon he realized that “elimination” referred to the paring down of the pool of lugers until just a few contestants remained to compete in the final race that determined the day’s champion.

Chiun watched the race closely, although his mind was elsewhere and he found himself involuntarily scanning the amphitheater for his son. But he was sure Remo would never do anything so outlandish and so disgraceful to his honored trainer.

Bodies tumbled off the track on the very first swooping turn of the next race, taking out three contestants. The man in fourth place was declared winner, to the dissatisfaction of the crowd. An ambulance removed the other fools, whom Chiun had no pity for. The ensuing races were less eventful except for the near riot that resulted when one of the favorite athletes lost and was eliminated from further races. This man had the corpulent body and bushy mustache of a walrus. The man maintained himself at a level of obesity that provided optimum movement when he luged the moguls.

“See, that’s what’s wrong with this sport,” the nearby cameraman declared angrily. “There’s more to it than just winning or losing. They need to take showmanship into account. Big Wally, now, he’s a true performer.”

Chiun was the only one present who failed to agree enthusiastically. He had just spotted Remo again, coming out from behind the hill. Moments later he took his seat next to Chiun.

“Glad to see me?”

“I never imagined I would be happy to see you attired in your undergarment shirt and artless trousers, but it is a relief, considering the alternative.”

“Brought you something, Little Father.” He handed Chiun a red round chunk of plastic.

. “Thank you, Remo. I will treasure it always.”

“It’s a luge wheel.”

“How much did the gift shop gouge you for this?”

“Just stop it. Remember that wreck a couple of races ago? This is why it happened. Look inside at the axle. See the flanges that keep the wheel in place?”

Chiun examined it. A small rim of metal—and a bright ring inside of it.

“See this one? From the same luge.”

Chiun nodded.

“The first wheel was created with a ridge of metal to hold it in place but weak enough to fail as it was used. The second wheel has much less space for the wheel to shift.”

“Right. So when the guy goes into the turn, all of a sudden his wheel shifts over a half-inch and he loses control. His luge board flew down the backside of the hill, and I managed to get to it first.”

“Let us pay a visit to the winner of the race who benefited from this failure.”

“Okay, but let’s make it quick. They’re gonna get me in as a wild card in the sixth.”

Pete Crisp was in the infirmary, looking queasy. The nurse gave him a plastic medicine cup full of thick pink liquid, which he downed as Remo and Chiun entered.

“Lucky break for you up there,” Remo commented.

“I don’t feel lucky at the moment”

“How do you think it happened?”

“Fiber. Way too much fiber.”

“Stop right there. I’ve had enough yech for one day, thank you. I was asking about the crash. Remember, you won the race because of it?”

Pete Crisp looked wary, “Who are you guys?”

Remo turned to Chiun. “Well, who are we?”

With a pert frown Chiun extracted two identification badges from his sleeves. “We are Hsu No Jong Yaun and Mu Nuk Lo’k, special investigators for the Federal Gaming Commission. Answer the question.”

“Uh, the crash? I don’t know how it happened. Looked to me like Chappy the Fin took the turn too sharp. Once you start a fast skid like that, you might as well just forget it.”

“We suspect sabotage,” Chiun said, every word an accusation.

“Hey, I didn’t sabotage nothin’!” Crisp said indignantly, then gripped his stomach as a-wave of pain filled his gut. When he opened his eyes again, he was alone.

Chapter 7

“He doesn’t know about the sabotage of the luge vehicles,” Chiun said. “That doesn’t mean someone did not sabotage the vehicles on his behalf.”

“Glad we have that figured out. Now let’s go. Smitty can hire some laboratory to come and check out the equipment.”

Chiun didn’t deign to answer, but simply returned to their seats to observe the rest of the day’s events.

Pete Crisp had his gastrointestinal distress under control enough to make an appearance in the last race of the day. By then, Remo considered himself an unwilling armchair expert at the nude luge, and he saw right away that Crisp didn’t have what it took to be a champion. He was graceless and uncoordinated, and he was far more concerned with staying in the race than with winning it. As it turned out, staying in the race was once again all he needed to do in order to win. The two leaders suffered wheel-bearing failures in such rapid succession it looked like a single crack-up. Crisp swerved around the crash and luged to victory.