This early in the day, the water level was low. The system had been flushed from the night before, and chemicals for decomposition had been pumped into the old aqueducts.
Gudgei kept his breathing shallow as he picked his way along the slippery walkway. The plain white masks he and the others wore did little to ward off the stench of shit mixed with chemicals.
One of the smooth rocks of the walkway had come loose. The first man, a scientist, kicked it into the river lest someone trip and fall. It struck water with a mighty splash.
"Watch it!" Gudgel growled as sewer water flew up, staining his pant cuffs.
Cursing, he shook his leg in disgust as the small group made its way up a side tunnel.
Gudgel's anger faded when they stopped before an alcove.
Nuclear technology in East Africa had developed further than the world community knew. Although the world was led to believe that the entire East African nuclear arsenal was dismantled, such was not the case. The proof was right before their eyes.
The scientist in the group pulled a Geiger counter from his tool belt. He ran it up and down the stainless-steel device secreted in a fissure in the wall. The handheld counter let off a series of crackling pops.
The scientist tsked unhappily. "I figured," he commented to the third man in the group. "Leaking."
Behind the others, Gudgel's ears instantly perked up. "Radiation?" he asked, worried.
"Nonlethal levels," the scientist assured him.
"Should we seal it?" the third man asked.
"Not necessary. In eighteen hours, a radiation leak this small will be the least of Bachsburg's problems."
"Maybe we should ask Deferens," Gudgel suggested. He had taken a few steps back from the leaky hydrogen bomb.
"No," the scientist said. "It will work." Gudgel missed the wink he gave the third man. "Of course, there is the slight risk of impotence after short-term exposure."
Gudgel didn't stick around long enough to see if the man was joking. Hands pressed firmly to his lap, he turned and ran down the tunnel.
The remaining two men laughed and shook their heads.
"Let's catch him before he accidentally sets one of them off," the scientist said.
Leaving the first nuclear bomb in its cranny, the two men hurried after their panicked comrade.
THE BACHSBURG SEWER system was a confusing labyrinth. Plastic-encased droplights were strung like weak Japanese lanterns along the slippery walls. The yellow glow sickly illuminated the stream of sewage that ran beside the path.
As soon as he'd entered the tunnel, Remo had found three soggy sets of footprints pressed into the black moss that sprouted along the platform walkway
Once he'd come down from the street, Bubu had scampered out before Remo. Trailing the native, Remo was impressed with the way the young man carried himself. The Luzu moved confidently through the catacomb-like sewers.
Bubu's keen eyes had detected the footprints in the moss as well, which was unusual for someone of normal vision.
Only once did Bubu hesitate. At two intersecting tunnels, he glanced back in confusion. When Remo jerked a thumb right, Bubu struck off in that direction.
That was it. No hesitation. No questioning. He simply looked to Remo for direction and then went. Watching the native in action, Remo wondered if Chiun's gods might not have brought him to East Africa at this time for their own purpose. While pondering a possibility that the day before would have seemed preposterous to him, Remo became aware of the three men closing in on their position from an adjacent tunnel.
One was ahead of the others. All were far enough away to not be a problem. Remo was moving to overtake Bubu to get him out of harm's way when a shout issued from out the long tunnel far away. "Gudgel, slow down!"
That was all Bubu needed. Without looking back to Remo, he ducked around the corner and raced down the tunnel.
Remo flew into a full sprint, racing after the native. By the time he tore around the corner and into the gaping mouth of the tunnel, he was too late.
A man stood far down the platform, automatic in hand, face angry. The explosion from his barrel cracked off the stone walls of the sewer.
Between Remo and the gunman stood the young Luzu native.
The bullet struck Bubu with a meaty thwack. One hand sprang open as he spun in place. His spear clattered to the stone walkway.
For a moment, his eyes met Remo's. Where there should have been a look of shock or fear, there seemed only calm acceptance. He blinked and was gone.
Momentum whirled him off the ledge. Still clutching his machete, Bubu spun into open air and plunged into the river of waste, disappearing below the water without a trace.
Remo didn't slow his pace. Loafers gliding over stone, he ran down the passage.
Far down the tunnel, F. U. Gudgel whipped his gun up. Leveling it on Remo, he fired.
He was stunned when the bullet missed.
Before he could squeeze off another round, Remo reached Bubu's dropped spear. He scooped it up in one hand.
To F.U., it looked as if the primitive weapon leaped off the ground and onto Remo's fingertips. No sooner had it brushed the pads of his fingers than it was airborne.
The impulse to flee could not hope to match the rocketing speed of the spear. As the first sense of danger sparked in the limited brain of F. U. Gudgel, the weapon found its mark.
With a speed and accuracy far greater than any mere bullet, the spear slammed the East African in the dead center of his chest. Feet left the ground, and he was carried back on the shaft. When spear point met wall, the wooden tip buried itself in the mossy stone.
Gudgel hung slack from the quivering shaft of the spear, his toes dangling to the catwalk.
And in his brain's last functioning moment, as the blood from his shattered chest cavity filled his mouth and lungs, F. U. Gudgel recognized the irony of his being killed with a mooka weapon. He almost laughed. Instead, he died.
Farther back, Remo saw the other two bogus sewer workers frozen in shock. They had watched all that had just transpired with mounting astonishment.
As Gudgel twitched his last, they seemed to find sudden focus. Spinning, the two ran back in the direction from whence they'd come.
Remo had taken but one step toward them when he heard a noise to his left. When he glanced into the river, he was just in time to see Bubu break the surface.
"Master Remo!" the native gasped before slipping back below the greasy waves.
Remo could hear the two fleeing men in the distance. They slipped on rock as they ran. There came the sudden hollow metal scraping of a manhole cover being pushed away.
Remo spun back to the river.
"Damn, damn, double damn," he groused as he kicked off his loafers.