One, it did not appeal to the rich and powerful.
Two, followers were not promised power and earthly goods.
Three, there was no place in it for a good assassin. After all, what could one do with a sect that was supposed to love its enemies?
Fortunately, as later scrolls showed, time healed that and Christians could be every bit as good employers for an assassin as everyone else. But at first, especially during its rise in the second century, Christianity had given Sinanju a scare.
And then of course there were the ancient cults of Dionysus and Isis, Mithraism, which also gave Sinanju a scare, and absolutely not one word of a Mr. Arieson, or any description of a man who could let projectiles pass through him. No one could do that. Yet Remo had seen it at Little Big Horn.
Remo knew Chiun was coming up the pathway to the great House of Sinanju.
He could tell the light movement of the body, the silence of the footsteps, the unity of the being that now entered the big empty house, once storage for tribute of the ages.
"The treasures of Sinanju," said Chiun.
"I know," said Remo. "They're gone."
"Only when we get them back will we be able to deal with Mr. Arieson. Until then may the world watch out."
"Since when have you cared about the world, Little Father?"
"I care about a world we may not be able to find work in."
"There's always work for an assassin."
"Not always," said Chiun, and would say no more, other than that Harold W. Smith had called for Remo and Chiun, and Chiun had told him he was not leaving Sinanju anymore.
"I think I will," said Remo.
"You owe something to Poo, precious Poo. Poo Cavang Williams. It is a funny last name. She asks if she must keep it."
"Tell her she doesn't have to keep anything."
The telephone line had been set up in the baker's house for the wedding and Remo entered the house amid the stares of a hostile family. He smiled at the parents. They turned away coldly. He smiled at Poo. She broke down in tears. The phone was off the hook.
"Hello, Smitty, Remo here. If you say it's an emergency, then I'll just have to go."
"Thank goodness. What changed your mind, Remo?"
"No change of mind. Duty first."
"I don't care what changed your mind. We have a problem. The USS Polk, with all hands on board and full of nuclear weapons, has been seized by the world's number-one lunatic, General Mohammed Moomas. We don't know how he did it, but he's got nuclear weapons at his command now. The Pentagon has retreated to its deep shelters beneath the Rockies, and the rest of the Sixth Fleet has surrounded the carriers, and atomic subs are waiting to make a pass. But we don't want to lose those men. Can you get in there and save them?"
"That's not the place you want to get hit. I'm going to go right for the head."
"Moomas?"
"Exactly."
"What if he's not afraid to die?"
"I'll find something, Smitty."
"How come you're so anxious now, Remo?"
"Not anxious. As a matter of fact, I hate to leave home, and if so many innocent lives weren't at stake, I'd never go out."
"You know, you sound married, Remo."
Remo hung up, and with greater gravity he told Poo that only his service to his beloved country could be enough to make him leave Sinanju on his blessed wedding night. Even as he spoke, he realized how Chiun had learned to facilitate untruths so well. He had been married for forty years.
In Korean, Poo said that was all right. She was going to go with him.
"I can't take you with me, it's dangerous," said Remo.
"Who can be in danger when protected by a Master of Sinanju?" asked Poo with a smile.
Her parents nodded.
"And if we should get a moment alone"-Poo smiled-"why then, who knows what we shall do on our honeymoon." The smile became a grin and the grin became a laugh, and her parents packed her trunks and when the American helicopter arrived to take him to the American ship that would take him to the American plane, her luggage totaled fifteen large crates.
"What's that?" asked Remo, pointing to a crate the size of a small car.
"That, dear Remo, is our wedding bed. You wouldn't want us to leave on our honeymoon without our wedding bed."
By the time Remo arrived in Idra he was ready to kill before asking questions. He was ready to kill because it was morning, or possibly because it was hot. He did not care which.
He had left Poo in friendly Jerusalem, to pick her up when he got out of Idra. That she accepted as a necessity, provided he came right back.
Poo, a simple little girl from a Korean fishing village, settled for the suite at the Hotel David that Henry Kissinger used when he did shuttle diplomacy. Anwar Sadat had used it also. So had President Nixon. Poo said it would be fine provided she could possibly have another apartment for her personal effects. Remo left Poo to the United States State Department, which Smith had enlisted for him. He told the charge d'affaires to give her whatever she wanted. He asked if American diplomats ever performed special services for deserving Americans. "Sometimes," he had been told.
Remo mentioned wedding-night duties. The charge d'affaires declined.
Remo flew to Egypt, then boarded a plane for Morocco, and took a Moroccan flight into the capital of nearby Idra.
Idra had three times signed a nation-merging treaty with Morocco. In between it waged war against that state as a traitor to the Arab cause. General Mohammed Moomas listed Aden through Syria as organizations loyal to the Arab cause, including at one time or another every faction of the Palestine Liberation Organization.
Currently Morocco was considered in pan-Arabic unity with Idra, and therefore allowed to land planes. Remo was told that with his American passport he was going to have trouble in Idra.
"No I won't," said Remo.
When the customs clerk at the Idra International Airport asked to see Remo's passport, Remo killed him.
That was what marriage had done to his temper. He beat the clerk's rolling head out of the airport's doorway amid his sudden very loud welcome to the foremost nation struggling against Zionism, imperialism, and the Islamic way of life. No one else asked to see his passport.
In fact, the major part of the army was gone from Idra and the General was alone with a few guards around his palace, morosely listening to the news of the seizure of the USS Polk from the U.S. Navy.