No Contest

“Why did you allow the man to take advantage of you? You should have negotiated,” Chiun intoned. “It would have been easy enough to convince him to give us a better rate.”

“Don’t worry about it. Smitty’s paying.”

“Still, you allowed yourself to be taken advantage of. Everything you do in recent days proves you are unfit to move about in the world.”

“But I am fit to be Reigning Master of Sinanju? So any nincompoop with a few slick moves can be Master?”

“I hadn’t thought so. Look. No phone. No power. How shall I recharge my iBlogger?”

Remo went back to the information-and-tourism tent. “Need a TV, electrical power and a phone.” Quimby Summy grinned wide. “That’s extra.”

“Whatever. Just put it on the card. The guarantee goes for the extras, too, I hope?”

“Sure,” Summy said. “Sure, it does.”

Quimby appeared at their tents with a wire tow wagon carrying a battered television. The TV was so old it was from the era when color was a novelty, and the rainbow word Color was emblazoned on the cabinet.

“You guys must have a hell of an expense account,” said their neighbor, a cameraman with a Canadian sports channel. “We’re sleeping four to a tent, and we still gotta pay some of it out of our own pocket.”

“Why bother?” Remo asked.

The Canadian looked terrified. “King Brown snakes, that’s why. This valley is the only place free of them for miles.”

Remo knew a rat when he smelled one. He explained the shenanigans at the campground to Chiun as they drove into the desert to witness the start of the Extreme Outback Crocodile Habitat Marathon.

“I saw another commercial for your vile television program,” Chiun interrupted. “Your shameless prostitution will be broadcast throughout Australia.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“We were discussing vile serpents. What better example than your profane abuse of your Sinanju training?”

“Didn’t we agree not to discuss the TV-show on this trip?”

Chiun fluttered his hand. “You brought it up, Yeou Gang.”

“I did not, and stop calling me that.”

“I can’t call you anything else.” Chiun shrugged.

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.”

Chiun huffed. “Great words of wisdom, which you doubtless learned from the virgin acolytes of the tiresome carpenter. It would give me great pleasure if just once I heard my own wisdom issue from my own pupil.”

“Get bent.”

“I do not recall teaching you that use of language,” Chiun said. “More nun mouthings, I assume.”

Remo didn’t respond.

“Fine, I shall cease speaking,” Chiun concluded loftily.

They drove in silence down the endless highway until Chiun snatched the wheel and gave it a tug. The rental car careened off the road on two wheels.

“What was that for?” Remo demanded, jerking the wheel back and adjusting his body weight to bring the car crashing back onto all four wheels.

“I did not wish to offend your sensibilities with my speech.” Chiun shrugged. “This is the way.”

“You could have pointed,” Remo said. “And I never invited the silent treatment anyway. That was your idea.”

“The platitudes from the convent?” Chiun reminded him.

“You’re just itching for a fight, aren’t you?”

“Chafing under the smothering blanket of shame, do you mean?”

“Can it. Where we going?”

“Bring the car into the shade behind the big rock that is shaped like your head.”

“I don’t see any—”

“Forgive me. Now I see that all the rocks are shaped like your head. That one.” Chiun pointed and Remo headed for the chunk of ugly sandstone, chewing on his tongue. The rock bore only a small resemblance to his head.

Chapter 26

“Whoa, here they come. Have you ever seen anything like it? This is fantastic! These blokes are really breaking a sweat out here t’day, where the temperature is bet ter’n a hundred degrees. To make matters worse, the sand is reflecting the heat right back up at the runners, and they’re literally running inside an oven!” The boyish man in the khaki shorts, shirt and hat was crouching and bouncing, waving his hands as if his enthusiasm were about to burst him open. The video cameraman maneuvered to keep him in the picture.

“Who’s he? Looks familiar.” Remo and Chiun were waiting in the shade of their special rock a stone’s throw from the video crew.

“Why would I know the answer to such a question?” Chiun was watching the line of approaching runners, who were crippled wraiths in the heat shimmering up from the ground. “He is a snake wrangler from the television.”

“Yeah, now I remember,” Remo said. “I knew you’d know. You know everything, Little Father.”

“You could not be more disingenuous, my son. Disingenuous means insincere.”

“I know what disingenuous means.”

“Rot behind me, rot here, is where the competitors will leave the desert proper and enter a section of grasslands that’s teeming with outback predators.” The snake wrangler wouldn’t have been more excited. “There’s some nasty buggers in ’ere. These blokes are gonna have to be lot on their feet to get through without bein’ bit, clawed or gored!”