Then Remo was in motion. The Humvee was accelerating, but so was Remo. His feet dug into the dirt of the road, propelling him forward with graceful pumping steps.
A soldier jumped out into the street, took aim at Sunny Joe and Remo made a detour that brought him within head-harvesting reach of the oblivious marksman.
The side of Remo's hand went through the man's neck, and when the head jumped off the newly created stump, the rest of the soldier lost all interest in working his rifle.
Remo raced on. If there were any more soldiers intent on trying their luck, they developed other plans as Remo caught up with the Humvee.
"Hey, wait up," Remo called.
At the wheel Sunny Joe said, "What're you doing here?"
"I came to bail you out."
"Bailed myself out, damn it."
"You stopping?"
"If you can run this fast, just circle around. Door's open."
"Damn." Remo hung back, came around the other side and pulled even with the front passenger's seat. "It'll be a whole lot easier if you stop."
"Those are live rounds they're slinging."
"They stopped shooting."
"And they'll start right up again once they get a stationary target. Now, hop on!"
Remo skipped, bounced off one foot and plopped into the passenger's seat. The cushions met his back, and there was a brief sensation of about 2 Gs as his decelerating inertia and the Humvee's accelerating momentum met, strained, then fell into perfect synchronization.
"Head for the border," Remo said.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?"
"What's got into you?"
"I was doing fine until you busted in," Sunny Joe commented.
"Hey, I just wasted a bunch of people to save your skin."
"And I saved my own skin without any killing. I saw what you did to that poor soldado back there. His neck's probably still pumping blood."
"He would have shot you," Remo argued.
"The bullet was never cast that could bring down a Sunny Joe. No arrow, either."
"There's always a first time," Remo said defensively. "And why'd you take off without telling me?"
"Since when do I have to check in with you or anybody before I light out?"
Remo started to speak but found he had no answer to that.
They drove in a strained silence until they cleared the border.
Then Sunny Joe let out a sigh of relief. His voice turned brittle. "Ko Jong Oh used to say a warrior's worth is not measured in scalps or trophies or booty, but in his ability to be like the wind. Everyone feels the wind on his skin, but no man can see it. The wind can sculpt sandstone into any shape it sees fit to. But nothing can stop the wind. Not even the spirit of the mountain, whom we call Sanshin. A strong wind will flow over a tall peak or cut a small one down to size. Be like the wind, Ko Jong Oh told his sons, and the sons of the sons of Ko Jong Oh have ever since emulated the winds."
Remo said nothing.
"How many men you kill back there, Remo?"
"I wasn't counting."
"Comes that easy to you, does it?"
Remo opened his mouth, then shut it so hard his teeth clicked.
"Was that you making all the commotion out in the outer jail rooms?"
"Yeah," Remo answered.
"I had two window bars loose. Figured if nothing broke by nightfall, I'd just slip out. When I heard all your racket, I knew I'd better make my break now or it might be never."
"The bars were still in the window."
"Sure. I turned them around in their mortar till they were good and loose. When I got out, I stuck 'em back in. With luck they might not have missed me till tomorrow morning."
"For all I knew, you were dead."
"You don't have much faith in your old man, now do you, son?"
"Am I supposed to say I'm sorry?"
"Are you?"
"No."
"You did what you do, is that right?"
"I did what I do," Remo agreed.
"What you were trained to do?"
"That's right."
"Then you got your answer."
"To what?" Remo asked.