"No, you did not," said Chiun, his hazel eyes sweeping the room. He brought his nails up into a defensive posture, turning with each sweep and tumble of the bee's flight.
"I had him," Remo insisted.
"You missed."
"I can't miss. I had him dead to rights."
In a corner, Tammy was searching her hair, trying to locate the site of the bee's attack. "Someone help me. Somebody suck out the poison."
"That is for snakebite," Wurmlinger said, completely unmoved by events.
"What do you do for bee stings?"
"You have not been stung," Dr. Krombold assured her. "That is a drone honey bee. It is stingless."
Then the bee proved him wrong by alighting on his hand and stinging him viciously. Krombold let out a snarl.
"I have been stung," he announced, more in annoyance than anger.
"Are you allergic to bee stings?" asked Wurmlinger, coming over and taking his hand.
"No. I have been stung many times without incident."
Wurmlinger used his eyeglass lens on the sting site. "I see no barb."
"I can assure you I was stung. It was quite painful."
Then Krombold started to turn red in the face and wheeze.
"You are going into anaphylactic shock," Wurmlinger said disappointedly. "This is impossible. You couldn't have been stung."
Dr. Krombold nodded his agreement with Wurmlinger's professional diagnosis of anaphylactic shock but shook his head vigorously at the sting assessment.
Clutching his throat, he lumbered to a wooden chair and sat down, where he went into urgent respiratory distress and then cardiac arrest. With a final convulsive shudder, he deflated like a burst football.
"Is he dead?" Tammy gasped from her corner.
Remo and Chiun, swiping at the airborne bee, were too busy to reply. Wurmlinger strode over to the coroner and examined him with clinical disapproval.
"Yes, he is dead."
"Why aren't I dead?" asked Tammy in a funny, low-to-the-floor voice.
"You are not allergic."
"But he said he wasn't allergic, and look at him."
The weird low quality of her voice brought all heads turning her way.
Tammy had stood herself on her head in a corner. She was supporting her body with her flat-to-the-floor hands.
"What are you doing?" asked Remo.
"Standing on my head."
"We can see that. Why?"
"So the bee poison in my scalp will drain out," Tammy explained.
"That will not work," Wurmlinger said.
Abruptly, Tammy somersaulted to her feet. She grabbed Wurmlinger by his smock lapels. "I'll pay you to suck out the poison! I'll put you on TV. I'll do anything."
If the prospect of a blank check with Tammy Terrill's name on it interested Helwig X. Wurmlinger, he gave no sign. After a twitchy pause, he pulled free and returned his attention to Remo and Chiun.
They had the bee surrounded. It was describing loops, turns, chandelles and other aerial acrobatics over their heads. Remo kept trying to catch it between his hands while the old Korean was clearly attempting to slice it in two with extended fingernails. They were good techniques, but they failed utterly.
The bee was swifter than any drone Wurmlinger had ever before seen. And it seemed to be getting faster by the second. It would hang like a bumble in one spot, as if baiting the pair to strike. Then as hands blurred toward it, it would drop or dart or pirouette out of range. It was very striking. The bee showed signs of intelligence. There was certainly cunning and forethought, at least.
"Do not kill that bee!" he sputtered.
"Why not?" asked Remo, switching to his fists. He let fly as if to sucker punch the bee from behind.
"That is no ordinary bee."
"No fooling," said Remo.
"It appears to be intelligent."
"Well, it is fast."
The bee swooped. Spinning, it dive-bombed Remo. Remo feinted. The bee barrel-rolled out of the way. Recovering, Remo backhanded it smartly.
The bee was nimble. It came close to escaping, but it flew out of harm's way into harm's way. A slashing fingernail like a thin ivory dagger caught it.
Helwig Wurmlinger heard the tiny clip as one of the bee's wings came off in midair.
Buzzing, the bee dropped, fought to regain airspeed and struck the floor.
Landing on its feet, it spun in a frantic circle as if seeking escape. The skirted figure of the old Korean got between it and the door. Remo stepped up behind it.
"We got you now, you little bastard," Remo growled.
"Don't hurt it," Wurmlinger urged.
"It tried to kill us," Chiun hissed. "It must die."