No Contest

“You’re going to get a reputation,” Winner told Freya. “The golden-haired American Indian angel who comes out of the desert to save the dying people.”

“There are worse things,” Freya said.

“Let’s go find the guys who left them here,” Winner said. “INS’ll never track them down.”

“And do what, arrest them? No, thanks.”

“So we don’t arrest them.”

Winner felt something as hard as polished wood clamp onto his elbow. Freya held his arm and shook her head tightly, and for the first time in years Winner saw the old haunted glimmer in her eyes.

“No. Don’t even say it.”

She released him, and Winner nodded, mesmerized by the small and flickering light that he had thought was long gone, like a spark of alien life living inside the once-troubled soul of Freya of Lakluun.

Chapter 14

Chiun was on his mat in the middle of a circular meditation chamber, which was raised a step above the rest of the Airstream’s remodeled interior. The rattan blinds were slanted on the 180-degree picture windows behind him. The smog-filtered sunlight cast a filmy backlight on the ancient Master, making his yellowing tufts of hair look dingy.

“You thought to elude me, Remo Williams, Master of Backstabbing and all the Betraying Arts?”

“Hey, you told me to wait outside while you went into the gift shop. I stood there for an hour then went in to look for you.”

“You were gone when I returned. I suppose it was inevitable that I be discarded. It is the way of Americans, is it not? Once an item is no longer new, once it shows a hint of age, into the trash pile it is tossed. The whole Western world has become a disposable culture. Use a thing, then put it in the waste bin. But I had thought you would have at least had the decency to tell me to my face, Remo Williams.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were casting me off, of course. Even the foul natives of the North of America have the decency to face their grandfathers when they abandon them on the iceberg.”

“You left me and I came straight back to the Sinanju-mobile. You were obviously way ahead of me”

“Remo, I have been way ahead of you always, since the moment of our first, infamous meeting. Therefore, I know full well the depths of your perfidy.”

“Whatever.” Remo sighed and lowered on scissored legs onto the second mat. Chiun had generously unrolled it for Remo in their meditation chamber. Remo shoved a hand in his pocket and wriggled out his mangled FedEx bill, along with a shiny ballpoint pen.

“From whom did you pilfer that trinket?” Chiun demanded.

“Gift. Supposed to be worth a lot.”

Chiun snatched the pen from Remo’s hand. “It is gold”

“I can tell gold when I see it. That was the first question on the written exam at the Rite of Attainment, wasn’t it?”

“What quality of gold?” Chiun quizzed.

“Fourteen carat. I know it’s not pure, but it’s meant to actually be used and that’s what I’d like to do with it now. Use it.” Remo held out his hand.

“It is French!”

“Like it or not, they make expensive pens in France. Can I please have it?”

Chiun glowered at the inscription on the pen and threw it with the force of a crossbow. Anyone other than Remo would have been lobotomized, but he caught it before it impaled his forehead and used it to pore over the notes on the back of his FedEx receipt. He kept the paper held up so Chiun could not see it.

“Will you tell me now the nature of your prostitution to the Hollywood filth peddlers?”

“Maybe I’m having my biography produced for the big screen.”

“The emblem on the pen belongs not to a film producer, but to a famously disreputable television trashmonger. This would be the appropriate media for the telling of the life of the pale piece of a pig’s ear that calls himself Master of Sinanju—even as he turns his back on the Master’s duties to which he is obligated.”

Remo got the drift of the conversation. “Did Smitty call with more busywork?”

“You care not,” Chiun sniffed. “Suffice it to say, I am taking my leave again shortly to attempt to discharge the duties you refuse to perform.”

“After all the progress you’ve made getting our parking lot shipshape, now you’re leaving?”

“I am not leaving the city. I shall simply drag my weary bones to a local venue to witness another display of American tastelessness. If your new patrons at the studio wish to provide you with females, I will not be here to dampen the mood for your rutting.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Chiun scowled fiercely. “Perhaps I should use your cheap trinket to ink myself with this location. In this way, you can be notified by the authorities if I should meet with foul play.”

“If you meet with foul play, the foul players are going to be the ones needing help.”

“I shall add the message, ‘Do not resuscitate.’ If I am fortunate enough to be struck down, death would be a blessing compared to this daily shame and dishonor.”

Remo sighed loudly. “How about I just go with you, Little Father?”

Chiun stood up in a smooth motion. “The cab is waiting.”

Chapter 15