"He said Belfagore," intoned the seven-plus-footer. "I am Belfagore."
"What kind of name is that?"
"It is one of the names of Satan," the giant thundered.
"Oh, brother."
"And I will dispatch you straight to hell, little man!" By this time the surviving ranks of the Road Sharks biker gang were on their feet, and Remo saw deranged vitality in their eyes. He'd seen it the day before in a certain crack house.
Belfagore raised one long arm and stabbed the air, shouting, "Kill them!"
The Road Sharks struck fast, overpowering the throbbing music with banshee battle cries. Their movements were adrenalized out of human proportions as they tore into the two Masters.
The two Masters were gone, though. The small mob stumbled to a halt, shouts dying in their throats until the shouters started dying themselves. Remo pushed a pair of skulls against each other and removed his hands fast before the gore splashed them. He leaped around their collapsing remains and reached wide with both hands, inserting a finger deep into the ear of one Shark and the chest of another.
Chiun stood watching Remo as the heart-puncture victim flopped to the ground. The old Master was the picture of peaceful composure, hands tucked in his kimono sleeves, as if he were unaware of the three Road Sharks sprawled dead at his feet, let alone claimed responsibility for them.
"What was that 'Kill them' all about?" Remo demanded of the Road Sharks' new leader. "You trying to do a whole Batman TV show thing on us? Were you expecting some CRAACKK!s and KERPLOW!s? Notice that the real world doesn't work that way?"
Belfagore was astonished at the nearly instant annihilation of his gang.
"So?" Remo demanded. "What's the deal? Why are you doing this? What's your problem?"
The Shark closed his mouth and began to quiver.
"He is mad," Chiun declared resignedly.
"No kidding. Belfagore's got serious bats in his belfry."
"No. I mean he is angry."
Belfagore made a sound like a komodo dragon whose goat haunch has been taken by another komodo dragon.
"Ya think?" Remo asked Chiun, then stepped aside and nudged the charging giant, who tumbled with tremendous momentum across the bloody floor and crashed through the last few upright lounge tables. Then he leaped to his feet, shouting incoherently and charging again.
Charging fast.
Belfagore launched himself at Remo but Remo stepped out of the way, so Belfagore was sliding again, head-first this time. A wall stopped him hard.
"Ah, crap," Remo said.
But Belfagore wasn't dead or even unconscious. He used the wall for support as he rose to his feet, and his eyes seemed incapable of focusing.
"I'm surprised you don't make accordion sounds when you breathe, Belf. I think you're three inches shorter. Don't you think, Little Father?"
"Four inches," Chiun said.
Belfagore staggered at the Reigning Master of Sinanju, grunting and croaking.
"Oh, just give it up, would you?" Remo stepped aside and tripped the giant. Belfagore fell down, and it was a long way down.
"That was for your own good." Remo crouched beside the biker. "You'd have killed yourself running around like a maniac, which would rob me of the pleasure."
Belfagore made agonized sounds when he was flipped onto his back. He coughed blood and didn't have the strength to grab Remo by the throat.
"Okay, so you're dying anyway," Remo said. "You've got maybe ten minutes. So why not just tell me what I wanna know?"
Belfagore made animal sounds, gnashing his teeth. "Why'd you guys get all freaked out? Who put you up to this?"
Belfagore's collection of sounds settled into a long, menacing growl.
"He's mad," Chiun pointed out.
"You said that."
"I mean, he's insane."
Remo nodded reluctantly. "Who isn't? I wanna know." He grabbed the dying biker by the base of the neck and turned him off. Belfagore went limp.
"I am not insane," Chiun said indignantly. "You, however, are behaving oddly. For example, I see you have now taken up the noble pastime of looting the dead."
"Ha!" Remo had extracted the biker's wallet, a huge black leather affair on a stainless-steel belt chain, and flourished the driver's license. "Belfagore's real name? Maurice."
Chiun said nothing, but his brows grew heavy as he observed Remo moving among the corpses, pulling out wallets one after another. "This guy's named Bork. This guy is Virgil. No wonder the weird nicknames!"
"This has some meaning to you'?"
Remo grinned and shrugged. "Just looking for the common thread tying these losers together."
"What is common is they are all dead," Chiun noted.
CHIUN WAS STARING at the wing of the 737 as if it might, just might, fall off right then, before they even pushed back from the gate.
"Slowpoke," he said.
"Who? Me?" Remo asked from the next seat. "When was I slow?"
"I've already explained that."
"Did I miss something?"
"You missed me on the way in," said a woman in a blue blazer and a blond hair helmet. "I'm Johlene, and I'll be your stewardess on this flight."
"Fine. Thanks." Remo avoided eye contact and said to Chiun, "Explain it again."
"Who buckled this seat belt?" Johlene demanded playfully. "It's all wrong."