"This better be good," he mumbled.
Chiun, his hazel eyes like steel, stamped around in a slow circle.
"The evil one is in our midst. I know this, for I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju, who came across a great ocean to bring peace to this troubled empire. I see all. I know all. "
"Bull," whispered Remo in English, He was ignored. "I know there are conspirators in this very feast. I do not know them all, but I know their leader."
The Red Feather Guard looked back at him stonily. The village women stared open-mouthed. The Low Moo watched with tight lips. And the royal priest raked the crowd with his avid black eyes, as if to imply that he, too, knew and saw all, and was able to visit justice as well.
"I knew him on the beach," Chiun went on. The High Moo looked at Chiun with steely eyes.
"I know him now," Chiun intoned. "And soon you will all know him for what he is-an octopus worshiper."
A hush fell over the feasters. The crackling of the fires alone broke the stillness. Cinders danced in the night air. Chiun, his hands clasped behind his back, paced around the circle. Here and there he paused to look someone in the eye. Some flinched from his gaze. One or two of the children suppressed giggles.
Watching, Remo thought he knew what Chiun was trying to do. He hoped to smoke out the conspirator with psychology. It was a bluff.
Chiun continued his circuit. His face was hard, uncompromising. But no one broke and ran, as Remo expected. Finally, on his third circuit, the Master of Sinanju went directly to one man.
"I accuse you, Teihotu," he screeched, one finger pointing with undeniable accusation, "royal priest to the Shark Throne, of being a secret octopus worshiper!"
"I ... I . . ." sputtered the royal priest.
"Do not deny it. You reek of guilt."
And from the dark robes, Teihotu extracted a bone knife.
Chiun disarmed him with a twist of his wrist. He dragged the man to his knees and, clutching him by the neck, forced a horrible scream from his thin lips.
"No, no! I confess! I confess!"
There came a collective gasp from the Moovians.
"Who else, priest?" demanded Chiun. "Who else among this gathering belongs to your evil cult?"
"Goom. Googam. Bruttu. And Shagg."
At the sounds of their names, four of the Red Feather Guard broke and ran. Remo started after them.
"Hold," Chiun said. "Time for them later. This is the important one."
Out of the trees came a hurled object. It smashed, dousing the main fire. Moovians screamed. For in the embers an octopus sizzled and curled as the embers seared its tentacles. It died in a flopping, spitting agony.
"Fear not," said Chiun, "for this evil ends tonight." He dragged the priest before the Shark Throne and made him kneel.
"You have heard this man's confession," Chiun said loudly. "Now pronounce his fate."
"Death," intoned the High Moo.
"Death," the Moovians repeated.
"So be it," Chiun said. "I will give you a boon, priest. Reveal to us the name of every octopus worshiper, and your death will be swift and without agony."
Teihotu, royal priest to the Shark Throne, wept bitterly. He spat name after name until he had surrendered twelve names in all.
When he was done, Chiun nodded. The priest had spoken true. Abject fear was in his voice. Chiun passed his long-nailed fingers over the man's quaking head. On the third pass, there came a sound like the coconut shell cracking. Where the priest's hair had been was the open bowl of his skull.
Holding the corpse by the back of its neck, Chiun bent the head forward so that the High Moo could see the yellowish curd of the traitor's brain. The High Moo nodded silently.
Chiun let the body collapse at the High Moo's feet and stepped back proudly. Remo joined him.
"Lucky guess," Remo whispered in English.
"No," Chiun replied. "I remember smelling octopus on his hands when he blessed us."
Remo thought. "Now that you mention it, I do remember his hands smelled kinda fishy."
"Not fish. Octopus."
"Same difference. I don't know why everyone's so petrified. I once watched a National Geographic TV special on octopi. They're actually gentle, harmless creatures."
"You will know the error of your ways by dawn." The High Moo spoke up.
"You have done well, Master of Sinanchu," he said, his voice full of respect. "But dare you enter the Grove of Ghosts to complete what you have begun?"
"My servant and I depart now. Await us at first light."
"If you do not return, you will long be remembered for your feats of magic this night."
"Come, Remo," Chiun said.
Remo made a point of waving to the native girls as he left.
"Catch you later," he told them. They giggled, thinking that he meant he was going fishing.
Chapter 16
Harold Smith pulled his car into an available space in the County Registry of Deeds office. He carried his worn leather briefcase with him through the glass doors and into the dim oak-paneled service area. He would not need his briefcase, but it contained his portable computer link and White House hot-line telephone. He never went anywhere without it, just as he was seldom seen wearing anything but a gray three-piece suit. Smith was a creature of rigid habits.
The prim woman in the white blouse, severe black skirt, and librarian's string tie pretended not to notice Smith's entrance. Smith walked up to the counter, straightening his Dartmouth tie. The close atmosphere reminded him of the Vermont elementary school he had attended. Municipal buildings always evoked a nostalgic reaction in Smith.
"Excuse me," Smith said, clearing his throat. "I would like to look up a deed. It's a recent sale, and I'm not sure how to go about this. Do I need to know the plot number?"
"No," the woman said. "This is, unless you don't know the name of either the grantee or grantor."
"Which is which?" Smith asked.