Bright orange caps moved furtively all around the area. A pointless effort since they were, after all, bright orange. The shade of orange was so vivid it would have been visible from space.
"How did they find out?" Trooper MacGuire griped.
"Everyone and his brother has a scanner," Remo commented. "That goes double for these Billy Beer types."
They parked behind the last truck in line. Remo climbed out onto the curb. Road sand that hadn't yet been swept up from the past ten winters filled the gutter.
"I'll let you out in a minute, sir," Trooper MacGuire called back to Chiun as he unlatched his seat belt.
"You are polite," a squeaky voice said from outside the car. "The Magyars of Kocs were such reinsmen. Remo, give this young man a generous tip."
When he looked, MacGuire saw that the Asian had somehow let himself out of the rear of the car. Impossible, since the door locked from the outside and there was no latch inside.
Chiun was standing on the curb next to Remo. "Not too generous," Chiun said to Remo, sotto voce. "He is only a taxi driver, after all."
"We don't have to tip him," Remo said. Hands on hips, he was surveying the area.
"We must give him something," Chiun cautioned. "Without retainer, these mercenary hacks would strand their own mothers."
"It's all right, sir," the trooper called from inside the car. "You don't have to give me anything." Since his bulletproof shield now lay in fragments on the back seat, he'd decided against asking Chiun how he'd gotten out of the car without ripping the door off. The trooper's main worry at the moment was backup. He appeared to be the only police officer in the area. MacGuire gathered up his radio microphone.
"Did you hear that, Remo?" Chiun enthused. "Our driver is better than the greedy Magyars. They always had one hand on the reins and the other in a traveler's purse. Hail to you, stout coachman!" In Korean, he said to Remo, "Give the fool a nickel. I do not feel like walking home."
"He's all set, Chiun," Remo insisted. He was still looking around the area, concern creasing his face. The hunters everywhere weren't going to make things easy. Brow furrowed, he turned to Chiun. "Where do you want to start?" he asked.
The Master of Sinanju sensed Remo's inner disharmony. Though he tried to mask the feeling, it was there. Lurking just beneath the surface. Although it would be easier to dismiss his pupil's concern as unwarranted, the fact of the matter was, Chiun felt it, too. The old man masked his own unease.
"One direction is the same as the next," Chiun said, an indifferent shrug raising his bony shoulders.
"Okay." Remo considered. "Uh...that way?" He pointed over toward a pair of warehouses.
Chiun nodded his agreement.
Inner thoughts of worry left unspoken, the two men struck off together toward the dilapidated buildings. And in spite of their training, neither felt the pair of narrowed eyes focused on their retreating backs.
JUDITH WHITE PERCHED easily atop the creosote-soaked rafter in the old warehouse nearest the parked police car.
She watched Remo and Chiun cross the street. They were four stories below and heading off in the opposite direction.
Good. That meant that they hadn't sensed her. Frankly, Judith was surprised Remo was here. She had given him what she thought was a disabling, possibly fatal injury back at the lab. A normal man would have been in the hospital for days following such an attack. But Remo wasn't normal.
Judith had known it the moment she first met him. She sensed things on a different level than normal humans. She could tell that he was something special. And dangerous.
The old one accompanying Remo gave her the same impression. There was a complete stillness, an all-pervasive confidence about the ancient Asian that defied explanation.
These two were the best mankind had to offer: Her reasoning mind told her that if she could defeat them, she could ultimately defeat Man.
The two men stepped through a break in a rusted, half-torn chain-link fence and into an old parking lot. They disappeared around the side of a building.
After they'd gone, Judith crept back along the beam.
The attic floor was more than eight feet below her. Neither the narrowness of the beam nor the distance she would fall if she took a single misstep was a factor in her thinking. The skill to perch atop a high rafter and to keep perfect balance while doing so was innate.
Judith moved easily to the spot where she knew the rotting attic floor was strongest. Leaning to one side, she let her body fall from the beam.
One hand continued to grip the softened wood as she swung around like the pendulum on a clock. When her toes were dangling a foot above the floor, she simply let go, dropping lightly to the soles of her bare feet.
Remo and Chiun weren't her only concerns, she knew. There were many men around her now. Closing in for the kill.
There was a strong impulse within her to panic. The same instinct that would grip any trapped animal. She would have to use reason to get out of this situation alive.
She heard a noise. Scuffling feet in the parking lot far below. Afterward, the sound of humans arguing.
Hunters.
Remo was still across the street. He was far enough away. Her plan had a good chance of succeeding.
Judith gathered up the box she'd carried with her all the way from its hiding place near her Concord nest. She tucked it tightly under her arm.
Moving through the late-afternoon shadows that stretched across her large attic room, she slipped stealthily toward the rotted wooden door.
TED HOLSTEIN FELT like he was going to throw up. All he wanted to do was go home. But Bob and Evan refused to hear it.
"Are you kidding?" Evan said in disbelief. "After the great day we've had so far?"
"He's kidding." Bob nodded with certainty.
"Maybe if I laid down for a little while," Ted said weakly. They'd just driven into the crumbling area of Chelsea, pulling in behind the line of parked trucks. Out of Ted's truck now, they were loading up on shells.
Ted was like a prisoner walking the last mile. "You heard the guys on the radio," Evan said to Ted, his tone reasonable. "They tracked her here. You don't want someone else to snag her, do you?"
"They took a lot of blood at the hospital," Ted offered.
"Stop being a faggot," Bob barked, annoyed.
It was the "faggot" comment that did it. Ted was terrified at the prospect of meeting up with Judith White again, but he was more fearful that his masculinity might be brought into question. Stuffing his hands into the ammo box, he filled his pockets with shells. Gun in hand, Ted followed the others toward the cluster of warehouses.
"You look a little green," Bob commented as they walked through the bombed-out parking lot. "Wanna beer?"
He reached a hand around to the emergency sixpack he'd slung from the back of his belt.
"Hell, no," Ted insisted.
"Don't tell me you got religion on us," Bob said. His tone was vaguely disgusted.
"No way," Ted declared. "It's just I don't feel like it. Not after this morning."