His brow furrowing with worry, Yusef raised his hand.
"Will we have to take a test this time?"
The Deaf Mullah shook his bearded head. "No written examination."
"Good. I do not like written examinations."
"There will be no examinations. They are not required by Allah in this thrice-blessed enterprise."
Yusef raised his hand again. "Is cheating allowed?"
"Not in this enterprise."
"Oh," said Yusef Gamal, who hoped he could get by without cheating. He very much wanted to die. For he could not endure the thought of his allotment of pining away in Paradise without him, unkissed and uncaressed.
Chapter 21
The flight back to Boston left the gate on schedule, lifted off on schedule and made excellent time to Logan airport.
Over Pennsylvania, the aircraft started its descent, and Remo heard the pilot promise an early arrival.
"We're going to crash," Remo told the Master of Sinanju.
"Why do you say this?" asked Chiun, quickly checking the aluminum wing outside his window for signs of structural weakness.
"On-time performance never happens anymore. God is trying to make our last hours on earth very special."
"Then why does He thrust stewardesses in your face at every turn?"
"He's thinking of the old Remo. In the old days, I never turned down an available stewardess."
"This was before the boon of Sinanju, of course."
"Yeah. Back when I was a cop, stewardesses hardly ever looked twice."
"And now you have them in abundance when you do not wish them. Is life not unfair?"
"Life is very unfair," agreed Remo.
"Therefore, we will not crash," said Chiun, settling the matter.
Over Rhode Island, Tamayo Tanaka came out of first class and hurried to a rear rest room, carrying a makeup case. She pointedly ignored them.
"I can't believe that's the same woman on Channel 4," Remo remarked.
"I cannot believe any white woman would lower herself the way that one does."
"When did white people slip beneath Japanese on the Korean evolutionary scale?''
The Master of Sinanju lifted his jade-capped index finger. "Since I was reduced to wearing this ornament."
Tamayo hogged the rest room for nearly half an hour, and when she came back up the aisle she was dabbing some shiny, slick stuff at the comers of her eyes, which were now as slanted as almonds. Her skin tone was now a dusky ivory, her lips very red.
"Don't look now, but Tamayo just turned Japanese."
"The brazen hussy. Look at her flaunt her false Japaneseness."
"Takes all kinds."
The 727 landed approximately twenty-two minutes early. Deplaning, Remo said, "I'll bet Smith pulled some strings with the FAA to get us here this fast."
There was no sign of Tamayo Tanaka in the airport waiting area. Downstairs the cabstand was backed up, so the Master of Sinanju simply went to the head of the line and stepped into the back of the next taxi to
go.
Shrugging, Remo followed.
"Hey! You can't do that!" a familiar voice complained.
And to their dismay, Tamayo Tanaka hopped in with them. "Two can play this game," she said.
"You people all together?" the cabbie demanded through the cloudy Plexiglas partition.
"Yes," said Tamayo.
"No!" snapped Chiun.
"Maybe," said Remo, who alone understood that time was of the essence. "We're going to the main post office."
"South Postal Annex? Where that nut is holding the FBI off?"
"That's where I'm going, too," said Tamayo.
That was enough for the cabbie. He shot out from the curb.
In traffic, Tamayo pulled a cell phone from her purse and called her station.
"I'm almost to the Sumner Tunnel. Be at South Station in ten minutes. What's the latest?"
Remo and Chiun listened in.
"They've still got him treed on top of South Station, Tammy," a voice said.
"Tammy?" said Remo.
"Shh," Tamayo hissed, turning toward the car window. "Is he saying anything?"