"Are these guys on our side or the other?" Melvis undertoned, keeping his hands in plain sight.
"What other?" asked K.C.
"You got me."
Remo spotted the arm patch on the major's shoulder. It showed a freight train superimposed over a vertical missile. Two United Nations-style stalks of wheat framed the image.
Around the circular edge of the patch were the words Rail Garrison Peacekeeper.
"I think they're on our side." said Remo.
"Yeah? Someone should point that useful little fact out to them," muttered Melvis.
The pilot stepped out carefully, hands held high.
Two soldiers fell on him and forced him to his knees at the point of M-16s. Flexible plastic handcuffs pinned his wrists behind him.
The rest stuck their M-16 muzzles in through the cockpit door he had left hanging open.
"What's in that box?" a soldier demanded of Remo.
Remo indicated Chiun with a toss of his head. "Ask him. I'm just minding it."
The soldier looked at Chiun and said, "You Japanese"
"Watch your tongue!" Chiun squeaked.
"What's in the box, sir? I need an answer."
"None of your business," sniffed Chiun.
"Major, we appear to have a Japanese national and a box of unknown origin here."
The major came up to see. He took one look at the steamer trunk with the lapis lazuli phoenixes and two looks at Chiun and stepped back hastily. "These people are obviously accomplices. If they move, shoot them."
"You can't shoot me," said K.C. "I'm a US. citizen and photojournalist." As proof, she snapped their pictures.
A soldier spoke up. "Sir, her camera appears to be of Japanese origin."
K.C. subsided.
"Nobody talk." The major turned, calling back toward the train. "Find him?"
A handful of soldiers balanced on top of a huge boxcar with an open roof signaled back.
"No."
"What the hell is that stickin' up outta that there Hy-Cube?" Melvis asked.
"Nothing," the major said.
"It's a powerful big length of nothin' to be nothin'."
"Avert your eyes."
"I'll have you boys know I'm with the NTSB," Melvis said. "And I don't appreciate your form of hospitality."
"Just stand easy."
"I am getting out," said Chiun in a loud voice.
"Here we go," groaned Remo.
The major snapped. "No. Don't get out. You-in the T-shirt. Hand over that box."
"Remo, if you surrender that box, I will never speak to you again," Chiun promised.
"I'm not handing over the box," said Remo.
"If you don't surrender that box, I will have you shot where you stand," the major said in his steeliest voice.
"I'm sitting," Remo pointed out.
"For God's sake, hand him the dang box!" Melvis yelped. "It ain't worth gettin' skragged over. Especially if you ain't got a notion what's in it."
"If I hand over the box, there'll be trouble," Remo said.
"If you don't hand over the box," the major snapped, "I will assume you are in league with the enemy."
"What enemy?" asked Remo.
"Forget I said that. Now relinquish the box."
"I am getting out now," Chiun repeated in a loud voice. "Please do not shoot me with your fearsome weapons."
"Not until we have secured the box."
"That will never happen."
As it turned out, the Master of Sinanju was absolutely correct. It never happened. Something more dramatic occurred, distracting everyone from the box in question.
An airman called over from the big boxcar with the missile sticking up from it like a gigantic tube of white lipstick.
"We found him!"
The major whirled. "The ninja?"