Chiun whirled on Smith. "Emperor, talk sense to this wayward one."
"Remo, please." Smith didn't look up. He continued tapping his illuminated keyboard.
Remo looked at Chiun and purred, "What'll you trade me for cooperating?"
Chiun's eyes narrowed. "What do you wish in trade?" he asked thinly.
Remo glanced at the big steamer trunk with the lapis lazuli phoenixes resting on the office divan. "A peek inside."
"That will not release you from carrying it with you if I so command," Chiun said quickly.
"Damn. I changed my mind. Trade you for permanent release from lugging duty."
"Too late!" Chiun crowed. "You have stated your heart's desire. Learn the art of the katana and I will allow you a peek. But only one."
"Guess you got me."
"Yes. I have you. Now, make haste. And bring my precious trunk."
Hefting the awkward box on his shoulder, Remo followed the Master of Sinanju from Harold Smith's office. On his way out the door, he gave the steamer trunk a surreptitious shake.
The sound made him think of uncooked rice grain, but the box was too light to be full of grains. Toothpicks maybe. Or Rice Krispies. He gave the box another shake. That was definitely a Rice Krispies sound. Therefore, it was not Rice Krispies. There was no reason Chiun would have him lug Rice Krispies all over the place. Rocks, yes. Not rice in any form.
Stepping on the waiting elevator, Remo figured he'd learn the truth soon enough.
AN HOUR LATER, Remo was grinning from ear to ear.
Under Chiun's tutelage, he had learned the Wheel Stroke, the Clearer Stroke, the Pear Splitter and other samurai sword techniques.
"Hey, I'm pretty good at this," Remo said as he deflected Chiun's blade for the third time.
"Too good," spat Chiun, withdrawing.
"How's it possible to be too good?"
They were in the spacious Folcroft gymnasium. It was here that Remo had first met Chiun and where he had received his earliest Sinanju training.
Chiun frowned as deeply as Remo grinned.
"You may have some Japanese blood polluting your veins," Chiun said.
"Not a chance."
"You are such a mongrel, how are we to know?"
Remo grinned. "I'm good. That's all there is to it."
"You had an excellent teacher."
Remo saw his opening and took it. "I did, didn't I."
And Chiun struggled so hard to hide his pleasure at the unexpected compliment that his wrinkled face twitched like a cobweb in a breeze.
"It may be we are ready to meet the ronin in combat," Chiun allowed, his voice stiffening to keep the unseemly warmth from it.
"I know I am. But what about you? En garde!"
And Remo lunged.
Chiun floated into the approaching stroke, katana gripped in two hands. It came up, clashed, parried and spanked both sides of the black blade four times before Remo could complete his thrust.
Fluttering out of the way, the Master of Sinanju said, "Remember who is Master and who is not."
Remo stared at his still-quivering sword blade. "Point taken," he said in a suddenly small voice.
They laid the blades aside.
"I wonder who this guy Batsuka is?" Remo asked after a while.
"A ronin. "
"If he works for Nishitsu, doesn't that make him a samurai? I mean, he's not really masterless if he works for a corporation, is he?"
Chiun frowned in thought. "He does not wear the crest of his clan on his shoulder. Therefore, he is ronin, not samurai."
"Of course he doesn't. He's a saboteur. What's he gonna do? Wear the corporate logo?"
Chiun caressed his wispy beard. "I do not understand."
"It's simple. If he wears the logo, that points directly to Nishitsu. He can't exactly do that, so he leaves it off. Still and all, he is a samurai."
"We do not know this," Chiun said stiffly.
"Every step of the way, he used Nishitsu products."
"He is Japanese. He is comfortable with things Japanese. It is very Japanese to be that way."
"I guess that makes sense," Remo admitted. "Still wonder who he is really. Samurai died out a long time ago."
Chiun's eyes suddenly narrowed. Reaching into one sleeve, he produced the metal bulldozer plate found at the crash site in Mystic, Connecticut. His eyes went to the company symbol, four disks in a circle.
"This is the crest of Shogun Nishi," he muttered.
"Are you going back to that?"
"The crest of Nishi is the sign of Hideo, which is a limb of Nishitsu. Do you not see the significance, Remo? The sons of Nishi must be the shoguns of Nishitsu!"