Beyond the runway's edge, the three of them split up. Remo and Chiun left the nearest gunship to Anna. The two Masters of Sinanju glided toward the next helicopters, veering apart after a few yards.
Remo's Hind had no guard. Unseen, he ducked under the belly of the helicopter. There was a panel under the tail assembly. When he popped it, he found a greasy cable.
Remo grabbed the thick cable in both hands, snapping it in two. Running up the back of the compartment was a plastic hose. When he ripped it out, a river of oily black fluid splattered to the ground. Two more panels surrendered handfuls of multicolored wires.
"I might not know what makes it work, but I know what makes it not," Remo muttered to himself. Dropping the wires to the frozen ground, he slipped out from beneath the Hind. On swift, silent feet, he struck off toward the next in line.
ACROSS THE WINDSWEPT runway, the Master of Sinanju slid unseen past a pair of armed soldiers. Once he was out of their line of sight, he moved under his helicopter's tail.
Coming up on the far side, the old Korean bounded up onto the wing. Not stopping long enough for the skirts of his kimono to settle, he jumped to the roof. Sure feet found the outer fuselage.
Ducking below the main rotor, Chiun raced down the narrowing length of the tail. At the far end, one bony hand took hold of the crooked swept fin as the other found the thick bolt of the stabilizing rotor. With the scoring edge of his index nail he made two neat swipes across the bolt.
That was all. Finished with his task, he floated back to the ground. He hit at a sprint. Hands and feet pumping in perfect rhythm, the Master of Sinanju moved like a great flapping butterfly to the next helicopter.
THE HIND'S INTERIOR was cold and dark.
No one had seen her climb aboard. Anna Chutesov made sure no one was watching as she slid the cabin door closed. She latched it tightly.
She made her careful way up through the main cabin to the cockpit.
The extreme nose was empty. Gunner and navigator were not aboard. Above, the pilot was gone, as well. Sitting alone in the chilly upper level, the copilot was securing a small instrument panel, his back to Anna. With fumbling fingers he dropped a small screw to the floor.
When it rolled from sight, he swore softly to himself. They were the last words he ever spoke.
Anna raised her automatic and fired a single round. The bullet struck the man in the back of the head, and the copilot fell across his chair.
Anna dumped the body out of the way. Pocketing her gun, she slid into the pilot's seat. With swift, experienced hands she began the start-up routine.
All around, the Hind seemed to shiver as the helicopter's engine coughed to life. As the rotors began to slowly turn, Anna watched them slice overhead. Shadows of a guillotine that seemed to drop lower and lower toward the doomed head of Anna Chutesov.
REMO WAS TEARING the guts from his third gunship when he heard Anna's helicopter splutter awake. When he turned, he saw the Russian agent through the cockpit bubble. She was fussing with the control panel.
"What the hell?" Remo asked.
The Master of Sinanju was just flouncing up beside him. The old man's lips thinned when he spied Anna. "What's she think she's doing?" Remo demanded.
"Betraying us," Chiun said, his tone matter-of-fact. He shot a look over his shoulder.
The instant the tiny Korean looked away, Remo felt the pressure waves of a rifle barrel aiming his way. With it came a few shouted voices. He glanced back just as the lead Russian in an advancing squad of soldiers opened fire.
Dodging bullets, Remo frowned at his teacher. "Care to explain yourself?" he asked as more Russians joined the first. Pockmarks peppered the nearby Hind.
"Only the moon can hide the sun," Chiun replied, swirling like a gaily colored pinwheel around a hail of lead.
"That a highfalutin way of saying you were spotted?"
The old man raised a haughty brow. "If I was, it was probably due to the distraction of having to worry about how you plan to deal with your treacherous harlot."
For this, Remo had no response. As bullets trailed him, he ducked under the Hind. Chiun followed. They had no sooner reached the far side than the shooting stopped. At the same time, they heard the distinct sound of more gunships spluttering to life. "And once more, Remo, your misplaced trust begets more betrayal," Chiun sniffed.
"Lay off," Remo said. His senses had suddenly tripped alert. "We've got company."
Chiun had felt it, too. The displaced air of advancing troops. Except unlike regular men, there were no accompanying footfalls or straining muscles.
When the first cautious face peered out from under the belly of the Hind, Remo grabbed a fistful of hood and steered the Russian's head into the helicopter's side. Flesh met metal with a crunching clang.
Several more men scurried into view, all dressed in the familiar uniforms of Anna Chutesov's Institute soldiers.
"Their breathing is pitiful," Chiun remarked. To underscore that point, eight sharp talons pierced a chest between ribs. They reappeared dragging dangling lungs in their wake like inside-out pockets.
"I'm thinking they're not even as good as ninjas," Remo said as he took out two more. "See? Simple thrusts at half-speed. Chuck Norris on a bad-wig day would've dodged that."
Chiun sent a heel into a brittle sternum. "Yes," he agreed. "They lack the finesse of even the lowly Japanese. If the Dutchman is responsible for them, he is a better adversary than he is a teacher."
Ten of the Institute men had been left to guard the airport. They flashed through the last few in no time. Remo twisted the head of the final Russian. With a blinding snap, it completed two full circles on a rubbery neck column.
"And that's the end of that chapter," he said, clapping imaginary dust from his hands.
More shouts in Russian. Remo wasn't sure if he should be relieved they weren't directed at either him or Chiun.
"What now?" he complained.
When he and the Master of Sinanju raced back to the main runway, they found the soldiers who had flown in with Vladimir Zhirinsky from Russia had taken an interest in Anna's helicopter. Some were moving to surround it.
Inside the Hind, Anna had climbed down into the gunner's cockpit.
"What's she think she's doing?" Remo asked. His question was answered in the next instant. Like a blaze of hellfire, a Swatter missile erupted from the outboard pylon of Anna's Hind. Hopping the launch rail, the laser-guided missile screamed across the runway, impacting with the side of another helicopter.
The Hind exploded in a cloud of brilliant yellow. No sooner had she fired the first missile than she let a second fly. Another idling Hind was engulfed in flame. The airport shook as smoking debris rained all around.
Anna's missiles had sent the Russian army scattering. Many raced for cover in a nearby hangar. Those who remained outside ran smack-dab into Remo and Chiun.
The first soldier in line tried to shoot Remo. Remo prevented him from doing so. He did this by separating from the rest of his body that part of the soldier's anatomy that was responsible for telling said rest of his body to do such nasty things as shoot people or swear or think unkind thoughts.
When they saw Remo lop off the soldier's head, the rest of the army froze. When he held the head aloft for them to examine, they gulped.
"Okay, here's the deal," Remo announced, waggling the head. "No surrendski mean no headski, capisce?"
Although the language was foreign, some things were universal. Forty rifles clattered to the ground, and eighty hands shot into the air.
"While we've got their attention, ask them where the nuke is," Remo said to the Master of Sinanju. There were a lot of shrugs from the crowd. A few men replied in Russian, waving vaguely in the same direction.
"They think it is in the center of town," Chiun said. "But they do not know where exactly."
"Big help," Remo sighed. "Now we need a POW camp."