"Thanks a bunch. What I meant was, what the heck was that all about?"
"The word has gone out to every keep and castle, Casbah and redoubt. Sinanju seeks a new emperor. Many are the nations that covet my services, few are they who can afford these services. Those who cannot bid know they will not sleep safely in their bedchambers should their enemies succeed in securing Sinanju for their own. We are feared, Remo. Just as in the old days." The old Korean grabbed Remo's thick wrist eagerly. "Quickly! Did you see their faces?"
"No. But they won't be coming back."
"Why not?"
"I turned them into sardines."
Chiun looked aghast. His hands clapped together in concern. "The fish! My bass was not injured?"
Remo lifted the white-wrapped packet. "Not a scratch. And it's not bass. I got salmon."
"I will accept salmon if the eyes are not evil."
"Check it out. Meanwhile, we gotta do something about those windows. Half our glass is shot out."
"A small price to pay for the compliment rendered."
"At least they won't be back."
"Never fear," Chiun said happily. "There will be more just like those. This is a joyous day, for Sinanju has not been forgotten. We are feared, therefore we are coveted. More, we are needed."
An hour later repairmen were finishing tacking the temporary plastic covers over the windows, and Remo was explaining for the millionth time to the Quincy police that it was a random drive-by shooting and not targeted at them specifically.
"We don't have drive-by shootings in this city," an officer said. "Random or not."
"Look, there's just the two of us living here. Only my—" Remo groped for a plausible word.
"Master," Chiun called from the other room.
"Master?" said the cop.
"He's a martial-arts instructor. He's teaching me stuff."
"Can you break a board with your hand?"
"He has not progressed that far," Chiun called out. "Only in breaking windows with his thick head." And the Master of Sinanju cackled loudly at his own jest.
"So it had nothing to do with us," Remo finished. "Okay?"
The cop put away his notebook. "Until the bodies are identified, that'll have to be it. But we'll be in touch."
"Thanks," said Remo, showing the officer out.
When he returned to the kitchen, Chiun was patting his papery lips with a linen cloth.
"How was the salmon?" asked Remo.
"Acceptable."
Remo looked at the low taboret that served as a table. The entire salmon skeleton lay on a silver platter, picked clean.
"Where's mine?"
"Consumed."
"You ate my fish!"
"You were otherwise occupied. I knew you would not wish to eat it cold. Rather than see it go to waste, I finished the unfortunate salmon."
"What about me?"
Chiun's eyes twinkled. "There is rice aplenty. Eat your fill."
"Cold rice."
"Steamed rice can be steamed back to life. You will suffer no hunger pangs this night, for you are fed by the bounty that is Sinanju."
As he dumped the rice back into the steamer and added water, Remo said, "What happens if more killers blow into town?"
"They will fail, of course, striking fear into their masters. It will be excellent advertising."
"I don't mean that. How many times can this place be hit before the police figure out we're not just ordinary citizens?"
"It does not matter, for tonight we depart."
"For where?" Remo asked.
"Rome."
"Rome?"
"Rome was the America of its time. We have had an intriguing communication from Rome."
"Italy has had something like fifty governments since World War II. They're broke, unstable and I don't speak the language."
"The throne that has requested our presence is one of the richest in the modern world."
"Are we talking about the same Italy?"
"No, we are not."
And for the rest of the evening, the Master of Sinanju would say no more. He sat in his tower meditation room poring over the letters from all over the world that praised Sinanju and pleaded for its protection. His thin lips were wreathed in joy.
Chapter Twenty-one