As the dust was settling on the HETA activists across the stall, a familiar bald head jutted through the jagged hole made by Huey Janner's thrown body.
"Remo!" the Master of Sinanju wailed. "That savage was abusing one of these poor beasts!" When he spied the saddle on Mona's BBQ, Chiun's eyes pinched to slits of fury. Flying through the hole, he bounded to the animal's side. Hands slashed with blinding fury, long nails severing the straps of the saddle. Chiun pulled the piece of molded plastic loose, flinging it across the stall. It landed on Huey's moaning, upturned face. Squatting, the old Korean began stroking the long snout of the BBQ. "There, there," he said soothingly.
The BBQ seemed oblivious to Chiun's presence. The Janners had landed near Remo. With one loafer, he toed the saddle off Huey's head. He frowned as he peered down at the unconscious HETA man.
"I know him." Remo nodded. "He was on TV a couple hours ago." He tugged off Mona's mask. "Her, too."
"Doubtless they were featured on America's Most Hunted," Chiun said. "Do you think they will double the ten-thousand-dollar prize for apprehending two notorious animal abusers?"
"I think you're mixing up shows, Little Father," Remo said. "And these two were on the dais at a HETA press conference. It was on the news."
At his feet, Mona was groaning herself awake. Cradling her head in one hand, she pulled herself up on unsteady legs.
"What happened?" Mona muttered. When she dragged her lids open and saw Remo standing before her, her eyes sparked with sudden memory.
Mona lashed out at Remo. He plucked her hand from the air and patiently placed it back at her side. She tried to kick him. He caught her leg and returned it to the floor. As he did so, she again tried to punch him. Remo snatched her hand once more, pushing it calmly away.
Mona tried to bite him. Remo finally lost his patience and knocked most of her front teeth to the back of her mouth.
This got Mona's attention.
"Chritht! Do you know what thith dental work cotht me?" Mona whistled angrily, sounding like the front man for an Ozarks jug band.
"Not caring," Remo said. "Annoyed. When it becomes 'angry,' I start collecting tongues. Where are the rest of the BBQs?"
It was more than a threat. It was a promise. Mona Janner suddenly became interested in the preservation of only one very specific animal.
"Right here," she enunciated carefully. Her tongue stuck uncomfortably through the hole in her bridgework. She was quick to close her lips over it.
"Stay put," Remo commanded, spinning on his heel.
He found the remaining BBQs in the last stall. All four were curled on a blanket of hay. They snored contentedly.
When he returned to the stall, Huey Janner was dragging himself to his knees. Mona glared at her husband.
"We've got 'em all, Little Father," Remo announced as he stepped back into the stall.
"Thanks to the demons of BostonBio," Mona snarled. She spit a mouthful of bloody saliva at the floor. "When we tried to release them, they wouldn't go. We left the barn wide open for two nights. Those Frankensteins at BostonBio robbed them of their natural urge to flee personkind."
"Did you consider that they might never have had it to begin with?" Remo said, irked.
"BostonBio again," Mona insisted. "They probably fed them, cared for them. Made them feel they had nothing to fear. Then bam! Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce."
Remo only shook his head. "Where's your truck?"
"What truck?" Mona sneered.
"The one you brought them here in," Remo said. "We don't have a truck," Mona spit, a superior grin splitting her jack-o'-lantern mouth. "We only rent them when it's absolutely necessary."
"Mona doesn't believe in internal-combustion vehicles," Huey explained. "We don't believe in them," he amended, shrinking from his wife's dirty look.
"You're Mona?" Remo asked. "Now I know why Curt Tulle was more worried about you than getting mauled by a BBQ."
"Tulle?" she snapped. "You mean that little jerk gave us away? I gave him one of these monsters to take the heat off us. Why didn't I hire a skywriter to point a big, fat, greenhouse-gas-filled arrow straight to the barn?"
"Actually, we traced your husband's credit card." Remo smiled. "Start your engines."
As Mona twisted, face a mask of pure rage, to her cowering husband, Remo turned his attention to the Master of Sinanju and the resting Bos camelus-whitus.
"Any ideas how to get these things back, Little Father?"
Chiun was stroking the long nose of the BBQ. "A vexing problem." The old Asian nodded thoughtfully. "I recommend we give them safe harbor at Castle Sinanju until we work out a solution. There is room in the fish cellar."
"No, there isn't," Remo said. "And if we can get them that far, we can get them to the lab."
"I will remove a tank or two," Chiun continued, as if he hadn't heard. "I have not had pickerel in ages. That one can go."
"I just had pickerel two days ago."
"As I said, I have not had pickerel in ages. We can eliminate that and your silly shark tank, thus opening up space near the furnace. They will enjoy the warmth."
"Okay, let's get on the same page here, shall we? We're not taking out any tanks, we're not bringing home any stray mutants, and we still don't have anything to carry them in even if we wanted to." He frowned as he looked down at the animal. It was well over a hundred pounds. "I can't squeeze six of them and us in that rental car," he complained.
"Please, Mona!"
The pleading voice behind Remo distracted him from his dilemma. He glanced back.
Huey Janner was lying in a fetal position on the earthen floor. Mona loomed above him, bruised face enraged.
"I...told...you...to...use...cash." Each word was punctuated by a fresh kick to the ribs. "Okay, that's it, Punch and Judy," Remo announced. Stepping over, he coaxed Mona out of the way with one hand, lifting a grateful Huey to his feet with the other. "I need to think without distractions."
Over the objections of both animal-rights activists, he shooed the Janners out of the stall. He propelled them into the main barn.
A sturdy toolshed was set into one wall. He tossed Huey inside, where he landed on a pile of pitchforks and hoes.
"Serves you right," Mona snapped at her husband. But when Remo reached for her as well, she balked. Desperate to avoid confinement, she struck up a seductive pose. "Hey, baby," Mona said, using her best sexy voice. "I'm in HETA." Her tooth gap whistled.
"Take a cold shower," Remo suggested. He tossed her in atop her husband.
Slamming the door shut, Remo piled a few hundred-pound sacks of organic gardening compost in front of it. The sounds of Mona Janner pounding on her husband anew were issuing from the shed as he returned to the stalls.
In his absence, Chiun had led the BBQ from its stall. The creature looked exhausted. It wasn't the effort of walking that made the animal seem bone tired. It was the wearying burden of life itself. Its fat tongue lolled.
"Damn, these things are hideous," Remo commented. He pulled his eyes away from the sullen BBQ. "I'm gonna call Smith. He can figure out how to get these eyesores back."
But as he turned, the Master of Sinanju rose from his post next to the sad animal. "Hold," he commanded.