No Contest

“Remo would just like everybody to give him the same respect they give other people who are also not stupid. The benefit of the doubt. Even a little recognition of the fact that I do hold the title of Reigning Master of the most glorious dynasty in human history—and not by chance. For that, maybe, I deserve an ounce of respect. It’s awfully hard to work with people who roll their eyes every effing time I have an original thought.”

“I see your point,” Smith said finally.

“I, as well,” begrudged the Buddha in the back.

Chapter 37

Brick Waiters was snoozing in his rig. Federal law said he had a right to take a snooze because he’d been driving all night. Federal law also allowed him to park his eighteen-wheeler in the taxpayer-funded rest area along the interstate highway. Brick was a by-the-book kind of guy, and he didn’t appreciate state troopers who hassled him just to show how much they mattered.

“Go ’way!” he snorted.

For the second time, somebody tap-tapped on his window glass. “Hey, in there!”

“Hey, yourself. I’m sleeping.”

The next tap-tap came from the butt end of an assault rifle. The window broke all over Brick Walters, who shouted and found himself looking at a U.S. Army soldier and fifty of his buddies. They were clearing out the rest area.

“Sorry to disturb you. Please vacate these premises. Now.”

Brick Walters had every right in the world to stay right where he was, but he didn’t press the point. He wasn’t the kind of guy to cause trouble.

The rest area was vacant of nonmilitary personnel in a matter of minutes, and the soldiers returned to their vehicles. The gleaming silver RV hybrid slowed considerably and took the ramp, parking in Brick Walters’s truck slot. The line of Army Hummers closed the gap, blocking the ramp, and half the fleet of the New Mexico State Police screeched to a halt.

“What do you mean, federal jurisdiction?” one of the troopers shouted. “This is New Mexico State and we’re state law enforcement!”

More Army arrived on the scene, in Apache attack helicopters. Two monster troop transport helicopters loomed over the earth and disengaged more and more military.

“You’re on national TV” the Army commander said quietly to the belligerent trooper. “You don’t want to get cuffed by a military MP on national TV. You’d never live it down.”

That argument made good sense. The troopers left the scene, but they made a lot of racket with their sirens, just to show those lousy Army types how they felt about it.

“Science Officer Samuels, can you give us a lift?” Remo asked of the airman, who was standing at attention in the media room.

“Yes, sir. Where to, sir?”

“Michigan,” Remo said.

Samuels was a man who erred on the side of caution. He didn’t know who exactly he was dealing with. This pair had just been freed from the state of New Mexico by substantial troop mobilization ordered by a general working with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Whoever these two guys were, Samuels wasn’t going to get on their bad side.

“Yes, sir. We’ll get you to Michigan, sir.”

Chiun was beaming.

“The meditation chamber must be working. You look marvelous,” Remo said, feeling chipper.

“All this bluster arranged in our honor is invigorating,” Chiun said.

Remo didn’t know if Smith’s grandiose intervention had been done in their honor, but he said nothing. He shouldered Chiun’s chests and they emerged from the RV into a maelstrom of light and sound. The fleet of state troopers was departing angrily, sirens whooping and lights blazing. A gnat-like swarm of media choppers was buzzing away far over the fallow fields with two Apaches urging them along, and all around them was the diesel rumble of Hummers and the blowing chop of hovering helicopters. The soldiers formed a defense ring around the rest area, but Remo could feel their curious eyes glancing at himself and Chiun.

“Such attention. It is a pity that a Master of Sinanju must move heaven and earth to earn an exhibition of respect.”

“Yeah,” Remo agreed.

“I was speaking of you, my son,” Chiun added.

“I know,” Remo said.

“Do not let it swell your head.”

“I won’t, Little Father. My white head is hideously oversized already.”

“You said this, not I”

Airman Samuels ushered them to a Huey with a dull, camouflage-green paint job. Chiun halted.

“I would prefer that one.” He pointed to a gleaming new troop transport behemoth that sat in the sky above them, beating the air into submission with twin giant rotors.

Samuels bit his lip. “I’ll arrange it.”

“We may as well make the most of it,” Remo said.

When they boarded the troop transport, Chiun declared, “You shall allow no damage to come to my home.”

“That’s what we’re here for, sir,” Airman Samuels assured him.

The helicopter whirred away with just two passengers in its cavernous belly.

“Emperor Smith agreed to discuss a new contract?” Chiun asked.

‘Yes. You want round-the-clock military escort as a part of the compensation package?”

“I suppose it would become tedious eventually.”

“Right.”

“And the Emperor would balk.”

“I’m sure he would.”