Unpopular Science

“There are no batteries, Mr. Remo Annoying. Your name is apt, by the way. They have electric power cells that provide any amperage needed for an extended period.”

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“Stalling for time worked on that idiot Cote but it won’t work on me.”

“Are you sure, idiot?” Chinn asked.

“I am sure, Korean. It is I who have been stalling you. As you can see, the swarm is ready to break in.”

Remo and Chiun cast about until they noticed the swarm cloud grow blacker directly overhead, then the dragonflies dived in a steady stream at the window, their tiny, sharp needle heads hitting the glass and bouncing off. The number was so great it was like the sound of serene rainfall.

The pace of the onslaught increased. Every tiny bug removed just the tiniest chip of glass and yet it was enough to erode the pane in seconds.

“If we stay here, they shall eat us alive,” Chiun remarked.

“Ditto if we go out there.”

“Remo,” Chiun said somberly, “I will not get far.”

“Don’t give me the feeble-old-man shit, Chiun. I’m in sad shape myself. But I think running is better than staying.”

“Run if you like,” said the voice from the speaker. “They’ll chase you all the way to France.”

“Chiun,” Remo whispered in Korean, “I bet those bugs can’t swim. We can. Maybe.”

Chiun nodded and said, “Race you to the water.”

At that moment the pane of stormproof glass had been worn so thin it began to spiderweb under its own weight, and as Remo and Chiun emerged from the rear of the sunroom, the glass fell in and the dragonflies began swarming inside, while thousands more descended on the Masters of Sinanju from above, and Remo felt them began to nip at his flesh. They dived at him, swarmed over him, touched him like raindrops and then fell away.

He was too weak to outrun them or to harden his flesh against them for long. Another ten minutes, maybe, and he could have simply run away, or let them prod him incessantly without penetrating his flesh. Even as he felt stronger every second, he felt weaker every second, exhausted from his exertions. The blood was dappling his skin, then it became a sheen of red underneath the smokelike swarm of dragonflies. He tried waving them off but it was like trying to shove away the incoming tide.

He knew he was running because his legs screamed, but it seemed they had made no progress. The air was so thick with the bugs it clouded the vision. How far to the ocean’s edge?

His skin felt raw, his legs heavy, but amazingly his breathing became invigorated. He was recuperating from his weakness even as that weakness allowed him to succumb to the bugs.

Then Chiun was gone from his side. Remo stopped, retreated, waving furiously at the swarms and his returning breath gave him the strength to wipe them away long enough to spot the fallen figure of Chiun.

Remo blundered to him, grabbed the small body and turned back to the ocean.

“Breathe, Chiun,” Remo said.

The dragonflies seemed to form a solid wall in front of him. He would never see it when he reached the edge, and now his flesh was screaming. He was being skinned alive. He felt one foot come down on nothing and he drew back.

“Breathe, Chiun.”

He felt nothing, not even a breath, from the small figure in his arms.

“We’re going in,” Remo said. He launched himself and Chiun out into space, and dropped. Sixty feet of emptiness separated the edge of the land and the Mediterranean waters, with a thin beach at the bottom.

Remo inhaled, knowing his lungs weren’t right. The dragonflies fell away suddenly and for a moment the world was clean and bright Then Remo saw how much blood there was on Chiun, on himself. Every exposed inch of flesh was flayed, and here he was putting them in salt water.

“This,” he said to himself, “is gonna hurt.”

He hit the water and realized just how correct he was.

Chapter 15

Mark Howard knew he was doing the wrong thing, but he did it anyway, driving across the lawn of the Cote estate just as soon as the clouds of—whatever were they?—drifted away and vanished. He knew they might come back at any second, and if they had effectively forced Remo and Chiun to run for their lives, they would surely kill Mark Howard.

He had a Beretta handgun, and he could use it, but he knew that cloud of stuff wouldn’t be slowed down by a few 9 mm rounds.

He jumped out of the rental car and ran to the wooden stairs, glancing down briefly when he felt something crunching under his feet.

Dragonflies?

Dead ones were everywhere. Remo and Chiun had been attacked by dragonflies? He stooped and snatched one off the ground as he ran, examined it for a moment, then stuffed it in his pocket.

Automatons. Aerogel construction with some sort of oscillators for wing movement. Somebody had constructed thousands of them.

He practically fell down the wooden stairs to the small beach. He was looking at the cliff edge to the right, looking for corpses adrift in the surf, and his attention was so focused he almost didn’t see the man sitting in the sand.