The pair followed him into a room adjoining the den. It was decorated in early psychedelic. The ceiling was a flat black. The walls were covered with astrological signs. Shane Billiken hit a light switch and black light tubes mounted flush to the ceiling made the astrology symbols jump into Day-Glo orange.
The old Oriental looked about the room approvingly. "You consult the stars?" he inquired.
"I'm one of the foremost astrological technicians of the New Age."
"Perhaps when we have concluded our discussion, you will cast my chart."
"Sure. I do it all the time. What's your sign?"
"Leo. I am a Leo by Western reckoning. But according to the ways of my village, I was born in the Year of the Screeching Monkey."
"Oh, yeah? That's a long time ago. I think."
"There are older things. I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju."
"Sinanju. Not Sinanchu?" said Shane Billiken suspiciously.
"In some lands, it is pronounced Sinanchu."
"Yeah, what lands?"
"Moo."
"Say again?"
"Moo."
"I guess this is where the animal impressions start," the white said. "My name's Remo, by the way, and I don't know what's going on any more than you do."
"Your ignorance, I am used to," Chiun told Remo. "But I do not understand how this enlightened one does not understand of what I speak."
"Him? Enlightened? This place looks like a sixties hangout."
"This is my Crystal Room," said Shane Billiken. "I do all my deep meditations here. If you look around you, you'll see that embedded into the walls are tiny crystal generators. They act to focus the odyllic energy that flows through the universe into this nexus room."
Remo looked. Embedded in the stucco wall were tiny shards. Remo touched one.
"These feel like glass."
"Crystals. Adventurine."
"Looks like glass to me. And now that I see you in person, you remind me of someone."
Shane Billiken puffed up his chest proudly. "Is that so?" he remarked.
"Yeah, but I can't place the face. I used to be good with faces. "
"This give you a hint?" asked Shane, strumming on an imaginary guitar. He threw his head back as if singing. Remo rubbed his chin in thought. Finally he snapped his fingers and called out, "Elvis. Elvis Presley."
"No! Roy Orbison."
Remo frowned. "Did he die too?"
"I wish," Shane Billiken growled.
"Enough," Chiun said. "Let us get on with this. Explain to me, Shane Billiken, how you are ignorant of Moo when I saw you in the company of the Low Moo on television."
"Low Moo?" Remo and Shane Billiken asked in the same breath.
"Yes, the girl. Her highness. You spoke of her as the princess of a lost civilization. She obviously told you that."
"Yeah, she did. Sorta."
"Then you know her plight."
"Well, kinda."
"And even though she entreated you to take her to the Master of Sinanju, you forbore to do so."
"I for-what to do so?"
"He means you refused," Remo said, new interest in his face.
"What do you know about this?"
"Less than nothing," Remo said sourly.
"I demand to speak with the Low Moo," said Chiun. "Take us to her."
"You're not cops?"
"We represent the longest continuing line of true assassins in history," the old Oriental said proudly.
"Hey, it's cool," Shane said nervously. "I'm very nonjudgmental. It's like I always say: Be the best you can possibly be. But let's all get clear on one concept. Princess Sinanchu doesn't speak English. If I let you see her, I'm gonna have to translate every word she says."
"Not necessary," said Chiun loftily. "I speak her language as well as you."
"You do?"
"Yes."
The old Oriental sounded serious, and Shane Billiken hesitated momentarily. But if what he said was true, he'd probably be able to tell him who or what Princess Sinanchu really was. Not that Shane Billiken believed the old Oriental. He was acting pretty crazy, making barnyard sounds and spouting double-talk.
"Okay," he said at last. "Come with me."
Shane Billiken led Remo and Chiun to another room. It was a bedroom. He switched on the light and the girl blinked out of her sleep. She wore the same costume she had worn on TV. Her eyes were puffy-either from lack of sleep or tears, Remo decided.