"There!" she called, pointing down. "There in that field. See? He's running."
A tiny white figure darted between rows of corn. It shone faintly, like a glow-in-the-dark light switch seen from a distance. It made for a solitary tree and popped behind it. It didn't come out again.
"Must be taking a leak," Remo remarked.
"I'm going to set her down," Robin warned them "Get on the horn and call for support."
"Glad to," Remo said, reaching for the radio. "Just tell me how to work this thing."
"Never mind," Robin said dismally as she settled the helicopter down toward the rippling grass.
7
"He's got to be up there," Robin Green said worriedly, shining a flashlight up into the thick tangle of oak branches. She held her automatic in the other hand. It was cocked and aimed upward.
The helicopter sat only a hundred yards away, its rotors whirling quietly. The lazy backwash stirred the leaves and her short red hair.
Remo stared up into the tree. "I don't see anyone," he said. "How about you, Chiun?"
Chiun walked around the thick tree bole, his parchment lips compressed in concentration. "No," he admitted.
"Well, we know he ducked behind this tree," Robin said peevishly. "I saw him. We all saw him."
"Guess so," Remo said vaguely.
"Possibly," Chiun remarked. His hazel eyes were intent on the ground.
"This is the only tree on this field," Robin said. When no one replied, she went on: "Look, let's approach this rationally. We saw him go behind the tree. He's not behind the tree. Okay. But we know he didn't run away from the tree, otherwise we would have spotted him. Ergo, he's up the tree."
"If he were up there, he would glow," Remo pointed out. "We'd see him."
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"One of us should go up there to make sure," Robin suggested.
"Waste of time," Remo said, looking around the field.
"Then I'll go," Robin said, tucking her light into her belt. She uncocked her automatic and bolstered it. Then she shinnied up the thick bole until she got hold of a solid branch, and levered herself into the crotch of a limb. She pulled out her flashlight, shining it this way and that.
"I take back what I said about that one," Chiun told Remo as they watched her throw light around.
"What do you mean?"
"She is correctly named. She refers to everything, whether it is an atomic missile or a helicopter, as a bird. Now she is demonstrating that she is perfectly at home perched on a tree branch. She is indeed a robin, even is she is not truly green."
"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear that, Little Father." Remo cupped his hands to his mouth. "See anything?" he called up.
Robin Green peered down through the thickening dusk.
"No," she said wonderingly. "I don't understand this. We all saw him go behind this very tree. But there are no footprints leading away."
"And there are none leading to it," Chiun pointed out. "Except our own."
"What?" Robin Green scrambled down the tree, agile as a monkey.
"Damn these jugs," she said, fixing her blouse. "My buttons came loose while I was up there. You'd think the Air Force would design their uniforms to take the full-figured woman into account." She looked up. "Well, you don't have to stare."
"I was not staring," Chiun said indignantly.
"I meant him," Robin retorted, indicating Remo,
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who then pretended to look away. "I'll never fathom the American male fascination with boobs."
"Like attracting like," Chiun muttered. Remo shot him a withering glance.
"Now, what's this about no footprints?" Robin demanded, once more presentable.
"Behold," Chiun said, pointing to the dusty earth. The tree was surrounded by the patchwork of many feet.
"This is mine," Robin said, kicking at one set of prints."
"And these are mine," Chiun said, pressing his sandal into a delicate footprint. It fitted perfectly. "And these ridiculously large ones are Remo's, of course," Chiun added.
"No, some of them must belong to that thing," Robin countered. "We all saw him come this way. You, Remo, come with me. We'll do a process of elimination."
"Why me, Lord?" Remo asked the heavens. But he allowed Robin to lead him around the tree. Each time he stepped into one of the large footprints, it fitted. And Robin then would erase it with the heel of her boot.
When they were done, all that remained were her footprints and those of the Master of Sinanju. And a string of tracks belonging to all three leading back to the helicopter.
"No strange footprints coming. No footprints going away," Robin moaned. "How am I going to explain this? How the hell am I going to write this up? They already have a psychiatric notation in my files from the other day."
"Look, we're wasting time here," Remo pointed out. "Obviously he got away. Let's get upstairs again. Maybe we can spot him from the air."
"No. No. He came to this tree. He's still here. I don't care if he is a ghost and doesn't leave footprints. This is wide-open space. We would have seen him
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running off. He's somewhere around this damn tree. We just have to figure out where."
"Okay, tell me where to start looking and I will," Remo said.
"I don't know," Robin moaned unhappily.