"And no one could figure out from their own section where the dough was?"
Chiun shook his head. "Each piece of the map detailed only a portion of the Hoard's true location. It was designed in such a way that, without the other three, a single piece would be useless. When this room was constructed, the Sinanju piece was placed on that shelf as a reminder of the folly of BalMung." Chiun's eyes were sorrowful as he looked at the barren shelf.
After hearing the story, Remo found it difficult to work up much enthusiasm for going after a scrap of wood. However, Chiun meant more to him than anyone else in the world. If it was important to Chiun, it was important to Remo.
"I'm sorry, Chiun," Remo said, "but I think it could be a lot worse. But my promise still goes. If you want to find whoever did this, you can count me in."
Chiun nodded. "It is important to preserve our history," he concluded. "Future generations should not forget the lesson of the foolish Bal-Mung."
"Okay," Remo said, getting to his feet. "I'll give Smith a call and see if he has any ideas."
Chiun rose to his feet as well, revealing the square of stone he had been sitting on. The Master of Sinanju began padding to the door.
Remo craned his neck around to look at the spot where Chiun had been sitting.
"There's been something I've meant to ask for a long time," Remo said suddenly. "What are these?" He nodded at the two stone tablets on which they had been sitting. There was some kind of ancient writing burned into the surface of each. The tablets appeared to have been shattered at one time and fastened back together. Ancient fissures crisscrossed the stone.
Chiun shrugged. "They were of some significance to the Hebrews at one time. A Babylonian prince awarded them to the House as a bonus after a relatively easy assignment. More worthless junk. My grandfather used them as bookends." With that, Chiun left the room.
Remo peered at the inscriptions in the rock. There were five separate lines on each. Ten in all.
He remembered Charlton Heston smashing similar tablets in an old movie.
Not wishing to think about the possible significance of what he and Chiun had been using as stools, Remo quickly exited the Sinanju library.
Chapter 14
A good night's sleep had done nothing for Smith's persistent headache. It had, however, beaten back the fatigue he had been feeling for more than two weeks.
He arrived at Folcroft late, coming in at the lazy hour of 7:00 a.m. He had just taken his seat behind his desk and was opening his drawer for the morning's first dose of aspirin when the blue phone rang.
He tucked the receiver between shoulder and ear. "Yes," he said crisply as he twisted the aspirin bottle cover.
"Only me, Smitty," Remo's voice announced. "Chiun and I need a little favor."
"What is it?" Smith asked. He tossed two pills back into his dry throat. Quickly he picked up a glass from his desk and swallowed a mouthful of tap water.
Remo hurriedly explained the Sinanju legend of Bal-Mung and the objects taken from Chiun's home. In conclusion, he said, "So I guess what we need to know is if there's some way you can track either the coins or the wood carving."
"That might be possible," Smith said. He turned on his computer, quickly logging on. He continued to talk even as he typed. "Do you believe there might be a connection between this and Four?"
"Why should I?" Remo asked.
"I assumed that was the point of your call," Smith explained. "The story you have described is the Nibelungenlied. It is an epic German poem of around 1200 A.D."
"Chiun, you didn't tell me these people were German," Remo said off the phone.
"Forgive me, but I assumed in you a level of cultural erudition," Chiun's squeaky voice called from the distance. "Obviously an error on my part."
"I wouldn't get too full of myself," Remo grumbled. "That ain't exactly Masterpiece Theatre you've been watching to death lately."
"I found them," Smith interjected, drawing Remo's attention back to the phone.
"Everything?" Remo asked, surprised at the speed with which the CURE director had tracked the items.
"Just the coins," Smith said. "Following the German pattern, I thought to begin my search there. They were offered to a rare coin dealer in Berlin by a Korean cultural representative. The merchant was concerned that the coins might be stolen, so he brought in the authorities. When their authenticity was confirmed, the Korean was remanded to the custody of his embassy. With no explanation for how he came by them, he was sent back to North Korea to face disciplinary measures for their possession."
"Where are the coins?"
"They are being sent along with him. The Korean government requested them for use in the trial. With the cultural official's diplomatic immunity, they were useless to the Germans as evidence."
"What's his name and when does he arrive?" Remo asked.
"Keijo Suk," Smith said. "His plane lands in Pyongyang at three o'clock, your time."
"Thanks, smitty," Remo said. "I owe you one." He hung up the phone. "Did you get all that?" he asked, turning to the Master of Sinanju.
"I did," Chiun said. He was standing impatiently near the front door, arms tucked inside the folds of his kimono sleeves. "However, he did not mention the carving."
"They probably didn't think too much about it," Remo reasoned. "The coins would be more important to them. Anyway, it won't do any good to sit here and think about it. Let's shake a leg."
Remo headed for the door. When he pulled on the handle he was surprised to find that he had yanked into the house someone who had been grabbing the knob from the other side. The intruder tumbled forward into him.
Remo grabbed the toppling stranger by the shoulders, setting her on her feet. He was about to demand that she identify herself when he realized he recognized her face.
"Hello, Remo," said Heidi Stolpe. She smiled guiltily.
"I DID NOT MISLEAD you completely," Heidi promised.
They were racing along the highway away from Sinanju in a government car Remo had liberated earlier that day from the Pyongyang airport parking lot. Remo was behind the wheel. Heidi sat beside him in the front. Chiun had positioned himself like royalty in the center of the rear seat.
"I was in South America in search of fugitive Nazis," she continued.
"But that was only part of it," Remo said angrily. Frozen mud fields whipped past the speeding car.
"Not at first," she insisted. "But eventually, yes. You see, I am a descendant of Gunther, whose sister Kriemhild was married to Siegfried."
"Your relatives must have the stupidest-looking headstones in Nibelung," Rerno said. "Wherever the hell that is."
Heidi persisted. "I only recently became aware of the legend surrounding the treasure. My uncle died, and I inherited my family's castle in the Harz Mountains. In his personal belongings was Gunther's portion of the block carving. It has been in my family's possession for fifteen hundred years."
"This carving. It is in good condition?" Chiun asked from the back seat. He feigned disinterest.
"The map has survived intact," she said to him. Remo could tell that Chiun was intrigued. However, the Master of Sinanju was playing it cool.
"Still," Chiun ventured, "with only two sections we are no nearer the gold."