Suk shook his head in impotent rage.
"Of course," Kluge continued, "my generosity does not extend to anything the men from Sinanju might do to you. I am certain they frown on theft. It probably insults their honor or some other such nonsense."
Kluge collected his valise. He stood to go. "When will I be paid?" Suk begged, his teeth clenched.
"Soon, Keijo. Soon. Although, if I have judged you correctly, I would say that you left the home of the Master of Sinanju with more than just the block carving." He patted the valise. "You are a greedy bastard, Keijo. That is what I like about you." He stepped from the table.
"My risks are my own," Suk called after him. He was nursing the pain in his shoulder.
Kluge paused. "When one has nothing else to lose, risk becomes a tool of survival," he agreed. Adolf Kluge walked briskly away from the injured Korean. He crossed the linoleum floor of the sparsely filled restaurant and stepped out onto the crowded Berlin street.
Chapter 13
Standing just inside the doorway, hands jammed firmly against his hips, Remo was more than just a little miffed.
"You mean to tell me you dragged my ass halfway around the world for a crummy handful of gold coins?" he demanded angrily.
"It is not the amount that is significant. It is what it represents," the Reigning Master of Sinanju explained.
They were in the packed living room of the Master's house in Sinanju. Bright sunlight shone through the tall windows, casting warming rays over only a fraction of five thousand years of accumulated tribute. The rest of the Sinanju treasure trove was stacked all around the house, like uneaten loaves of bread in an overproducing bakery.
Chiun was stooping to examine the gold coins that Keijo Suk had dropped in his haste to leave several days before.
"This is ridiculous," Remo complained. "You made me think they cleaned you out."
"Today it is a handful," Chiun said seriously. "Tomorrow it is another. Where will it end?"
"Judging from the pile of junk you have heaped around this dump, I'd say somewhere in the middle of the millionth century," Remo said.
Chiun paid him no heed. He collected the three coins from the floor. Never in circulation at any time in history, they had been minted specifically for Sinanju by a grateful employer. They bore the face of Cleopatra on one side and the symbol of Sinanju on the other. Each coin would have been priceless to a collector.
Chiun tossed the three coins into the copper urn next to the door. There were seven more jars stacked nearby, each brimming over with identical gold pieces.
"Ah-hah!" Chiun announced.
"What?" Remo asked, peeved. He was leaning on the door frame.
"See how the villain pauses." Chiun pointed at the footprints in the dust near the door. "He thinks whether he should steal from the glorious House of Sinanju, thus sealing his fate. An evil and stupid creature, he gives in to temptation." He indicated a mass of scuffed prints. "More hesitation. I have committed my base act of thievery, he thinks. If I must die, let me be cast into the Void for more than one handful of coins." Chiun raised an instructive finger. "He fills his pockets and than scurries off into the black of night, fearful even in his flight of the awesome vengeance to which he has condemned himself."
Remo looked at the marks on the floor. To him, they looked like a mass of dirty footprints.
"If you say so," Remo said dubiously.
A fire burned in the great iron furnace in the cellar, heating a huge cauldron of water, which in turn warmed the chilly air within the house. This method of heat dispersal had not become popular in the West until the twentieth century. The Master's House had enjoyed this luxury since the time of Plato.
Chiun's caretaker and the man who had lit the fire in preparation for the Master of Sinanju's arrival was an aged villager named Pullyang. The man who had contacted Chiun at Folcroft, Pullyang stood near the archway that led into the next room. He rubbed his hands together nervously.
"Master, I believe the thief was here, as well," the anxious caretaker said, voice tremulous.
Chiun marched boldly across the room. Remo trailed him reluctantly, hands stuffed in his pockets. Pullyang indicated an open door off of the next room. Remo and Chiun peered in around the frame. Crazed dust patterns swirled in the beams of hot yellow light that poured in through the lone window.
Remo knew the room to be a sort of library for the House of Sinanju. This was where nearly all the records of every past Master of Sinanju were kept.
When Remo had first seen the room years before, Chiun had promised him that one day the scrolls of Remo's own masterhood would be placed in here beside the rest.
"Whoop-de-do," Remo had said.
Remo was not so glib today. He knew how much the histories of Sinanju meant to his teacher. The look of pain on Chiun's face was almost enough to make him forget his desire to get back to America in order to continue the search for Adolf Kluge.
Remo saw the streak of upset dust at the same time as the Master of Sinanju.
"Brigand!" Chiun cried when he realized what was missing. "Robber!" he shouted as he bounced over the debris field that was the floor. "Bandit!" he wailed, after he had made certain the ancient wood carving had not fallen to the sturdy old floor.
"What was it?" Remo asked, stepping gingerly into the room. He had to climb over a pair of stone slabs.
"A map to a treasure forever lost. A piece of a puzzle whose other fragments were scattered to the winds of history. An invaluable reminder of the folly of fools."
"It doesn't sound that bad," Remo offered encouragingly.
"Bad?" Chiun moaned. "It is terrible."
"I'd say you made out okay," Remo said. "A couple of gold coins and a useless puzzle piece. We should get a lock for the front door. Maybe an alarm system." As Chiun continued to stare at the vacant spot on the shelf, Remo turned to Pullyang. "Is there electricity in this rathole of a village?" he asked.
"Only in the Master's house," the caretaker ventured.
"See, Chiun," Remo said. "An alarm system would be easy. I bet Smith could fix you up real nice."
Chiun refused to be encouraged. His eyes never wavered from the barren spot on the shelf. Beside the marks in the dust, an ancient rusted battle helmet sat on the counter. A corroded falcon was locked in a perpetual struggle to take flight on the front of the headpiece.
The look on his teacher's face was so forlorn as he stared at the shelf Remo couldn't help but feel a welling sadness of his own.
Remo felt uncomfortable with someone else seeing Chiun in this inconsolable state. The old caretaker was hovering at the edge of the room, the mass of wrinkles around his aged eyes pinched to narrow slits.
"We can handle it from here," Remo whispered softly to Pullyang.
The aged caretaker wasn't certain if he should take the suggestion of the Master of Sinanju's white pupil.
"Master?" he asked.
Chiun didn't say a word. He raised a long-nailed hand, waving it dismissively. Pullyang bowed respectfully from the room. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.
The Master of Sinanju continued to stare morosely at the empty spot on the shelf.
This was not like Chiun. His angry reaction to the missing gold coins-that was Chiun. But by his own admission, the item stolen from this room had been worthless. Yet he seemed to grieve more for its loss than for the loss of his beloved gold. To Remo, it didn't make sense.
"Chiun?" Remo said gently. "If it means that much to you, to hell with Kluge. We'll go after whoever did this. I promise you'll get everything back."