"This is a retainer of five hundred thousand dollars. You will get a similar check every year you work for me, with bonuses based on a formula of my design."
Remo looked at the check lying on the desk. He'd never been good at negotiating. Deferens hadn't even entertained the notion of paying in gold. Maybe Chiun wouldn't be as upset if he got the price up.
"One million," he pressed.
The defense minister continued talking as if Remo hadn't even spoken. "You may continue to work for other clients. But by accepting this retainer, you agree to drop whatever it is you are doing at any given time if I need you. I mean this, Remo. Any time."
"That part sounds okay," Remo said hesitantly. "But the money's not enough. How about 750 grand?"
"The money is not negotiable," Deferens said coldly.
Remo studied the check. Chiun would kill him if he found out he'd accepted someone's first offer. Across the desk, L. Vas Deferens studied Remo's deeply thoughtful face. He resisted the urge to frown.
"Of course, if it's not to your satisfaction, I can still have you shot," Deferens warned. "When word of what has happened here today gets out, I will say you were part of the assault team responsible for the massacre. If your reputation is as you claim, it will be easily believed. Either way, you will be working for me."
Remo considered not Deferens's words but the situation he found himself in. He could kill the minister right now and doubtless sever one of Mandobar's major links. But Smith didn't want him killing Deferens at the moment.
Weighing more heavily on his mind was Chiun. With all the weirdness of the past two days, he shouldn't give a damn what the Master of Sinanju might say about his accepting a check, but that was just like Chiun. Always piling on. Even when he wasn't around.
"Ah, the hell with it," Remo growled, snatching up the check. "I'll take the job."
When he stuffed the check into his pocket, his fingers brushed the hard edges of the small crucifix. Thoughts of baby Karen's wake and the apparition that had been following him ever since flooded Remo's mind.
Across the desk, Deferens didn't see the dark expression that settled on Remo's brow. "Excellent," the minister said efficiently. "You'll be happy to know I already have a job for you." He steepled his fingers. "It is far more important than removing a few common drunks in a restaurant."
Remo noted a flickering smile of satisfaction on the defense minister's bloodred lips. With his pasty skin and dark mouth, he gave the impression of a sated vampire.
"Remo," Deferens announced simply, "I want you to go to Luzuland and kill Chief Batubizee." And this time when the sad-faced Korean boy appeared before Remo, his cherub's face was filled with fear.
Chapter 15
Chief Batubizee saw the clouds of dust rising high into the clear African sky in the wake of the speeding trucks. They could be seen for miles around as the vehicles drove across KwaLuzu, the "land of the Luzu." The fire of the setting sun burned the sky above the spreading clouds.
After the old Master of Sinanju had left with his small band of warriors earlier that day, the chief had changed back into his everyday clothes, which consisted of faded blue polyester slacks and an old red shirt.
His flowing purple robe was for ceremony only, and since he had only the one, he did not wish for it to become as worn and tattered as all his other clothes.
With the appearance of the dust clouds, Batubizee ducked back inside his large hovel. He emerged in his traditional robe and Luzu crown. Symbols of a bygone age.
It took another twenty minutes for the trucks to reach the village. A handful of pitiful natives was sprinkled about the square.
Batubizee was standing before his home when the Suburban finally appeared at the far end of the main road, leading two more trucks. All three vehicles rolled to a stop before the chief. Luzu warriors sprang to the road.
As Bubu jumped out from behind the wheel of the lead vehicle, the Master of Sinanju appeared like a wisp of wrinkled smoke from the passenger's side.
Batubizee was again struck by the age of the wizened Asian. His impression had been the same when first he laid eyes-on the Sinanju Master. He was old. Frail. Weak.
The oral history of his people spoke of Master Nuk as a powerful figure, strong limbed and tall, with piercing eyes that could cut more sharply and precisely than any of the diamonds from the nearby barren mines. This was Batubizee's image of a Master of Sinanju-not the old man who had just emerged from his Suburban.
Batubizee again struggled with disappointment as the Korean hurried over to him.
"Welcome back, Master of Sinanju," the chief intoned. "You have brought me the head of the evil one?"
He was looking beyond the old Korean. From what he could see, none of his warriors carried the head of Willie Mandobar to present to their ruler.
As Bubu took up his silent post behind the chief, his young face was grim.
"All is not well," the Master of Sinanju said gravely.
At his tone, Batubizee felt the first stirrings of concern. "What has happened?" the chief demanded, turning from Bubu. "Where is the head of the fiend Mandobar?"
"Still attached to his shoulders," Chiun replied. "According to his lackeys, he has fled East Africa." Batubizee's big eyes grew wider.
"And you took them at their word?" he snapped. The truth of the feeling he'd been having since first he laid eyes on the little man began to creep into his booming voice.
"They spoke truth," the Master of Sinanju responded, silently noting the chief's change in tone. "He is not here."
"They lie!" Batubizee insisted. "He would not leave at such an important time! They have deceived you, old one."
Chiun could not keep the ice from his voice. "Sinanju has methods of detecting deceit in a man's words," he explained evenly. "I saw only truth."
"Can you even see at all?" Batubizee snapped, throwing up his hands in disgust. "Exactly how many of his minions did you have my men slay to find this truthful information?"
Chiun bore both insult and tone with a stoic face. "Many of the palace guard are dead," he responded, his eyes level. As he regarded the angry tribal chief, his hands locked with chilly calm onto opposite wrists within the sleeves of his kimono. "And my warriors were seen?"
"Since we did not slay everyone from here to Bachsburg, yes," Chiun said.
Batubizee shook his massive head. "You old fool!" he spit. "You have led them to me!"
Bubu stepped forward, casting a glance at Chiun. "The old Master could not-" he began, his voice pitched low.
"Old," Batubizee interrupted. "You are correct. This old fool is not the Master of Sinanju of our histories. Nuk was a vital and powerful man. The lions would not even eat this thing of bone and gristle." He stabbed a finger at Chiun.
"Mandobar has destroyed the nation to which Luzuland is an arm. You promised his head!"
"Even Sinanju cannot kill a man who isn't there," Chiun said simply.
The Luzus in the square were attracted to the raised voice of the chief. Even as they came forward, more appeared from dilapidated huts.
Batubizee towered over the tiny Asian, his anger growing. "Could you even see him if he was there?" the Luzu chief demanded hotly.
"Please," Bubu stressed. "Let Master Chiun-"
"Silence, " Batubizee snarled. He waved a disdainful hand at Chiun. "This feeble thing is not even to blame for this disaster. I am. It is my fault for trusting the legends. The Luzu Empire was already dying. Now, on its deathbed, I have strangled it."
A proud man, Batubizee knew he had already let the common villagers see too much. Shoulders sagging, he shook his head at Chiun.