On his way out, he batted the door back. It took its own frame back with it and slammed into three pursuing men.
Remo raced toward the mansion, the phone up to his face. He was shouting into the receiver.
"Smitty. You copy?"
"Remo, I hear shooting," came the anxious voice of Harold W. Smith. He burped.
"I'm at Esperanza's vineyard. Guess what? Esperanza isn't Esperanza. He's-"
"General Emmanuel Nogeira," said Smith bitterly.
"Huh? How'd you know that?"
"Fingerprints off the Everglade's body. They belonged to the true Esperanza."
"They must have kidnapped him and pulled the switch during the Baptism," Remo growled. "And I didn't see it because I was too busy ducking cameras. But can we prove it?"
A bullet track snarled over Remo's head. He cut off to one side and kept zigzagging. Up ahead, lights were going on all over the mansion.
"The real Nogeira has five general's stars tattooed on each shoulder," Smith shouted.
"Tattooed?"
"He took his rank very seriously," said Smith.
"Yeah, well his smile gave him away to me," Remo said.
"His smile?"
"Later," Remo said. "I just stumbled upon an Oreo counterfeiting plant, and they're doctoring voter registration cards."
"Why would they counterfeit Oreos?" Smith shouted over the growing din.
"They're loaded with coke!" Remo shouted back. "Instant voter support. Nogeira was turning California into a land of cokeheads," Remo added.
"My God! It's Bananama all over again."
"Skip the anguish," Remo said quickly. "The bad guys are hot on my heels, and Chiun's up ahead with Nogeira. He doesn't suspect a thing. What do I do?"
"Nogeira must be eliminated. We have no choice."
"But Chiun'll kill me," Remo protested. "He thinks Cheeta Ching is going to give birth to the next heir to the House, and now this."
"Remo, we can deal with Chiun later. You have your orders."
Up ahead a door opened, and from out of the house a contingent of Crips, Bloods, and Los Aranas Espana poured out. They had weapons in their hands and Oreo cookies in their mouths, and their eyes were filled with a crazy light.
"Nobody better shoot!" Remo warned them.
"Our man Esperanza says we gotta!" spat back a familiar voice. Dexter Dogget's.
And behind him, Remo heard the shout, "Viva Esperanza!"
It was his pursuers. Probably Colombians or Bananamanians. Maybe both.
Remo threw himself on the ground as two fans of bullet tracks filled the air over his head from opposite sides. Rounds actually struck one another in midair, making short, ugly sounds and sending hot needles of lead spraying all around.
A few struck Remo's Hispanic pursuers. But only a few.
The pursuing Colombians did better. They chopped down about a third of the gang members in return. This brought further retaliation, and as he lay flat, cradling the cellular phone, Remo realized he had been forgotten. It was eye-for-an-eye time-which suited Remo just fine.
The firefight swelled into a crescendo of blood and bullets.
Moving low, Remo circled the mansion, the sound of firing covering him. He wondered why Chiun hadn't shown.
The Master of Sinanju listened thoughtfully as his patron explained the future.
"You will work for me. Exclusively."
"This is possible," replied Chiun. They stood before the dormant fireplace of the great parlor.
"I will pay you very, very well," continued Esperanza. "You will no longer need to work for the U.S. President."
"I do not work for him."
"Then who?"
"I cannot say."
Esperanza nodded. "I understand. I will expect the same loyalty."
Chiun inclined his head. "Of course."
"There is just one other matter," added Esperanza.
"Yes?"
"The one called Remo. He works for the government. He is CIA?"
"Possibly."
"He will be a hindrance to us. You must sever all ties with him."
Chiun touched his wispy beard in preparation before speaking.
Just then, the night exploded with the sound of automatic weapons fire.