"Smith has secretly ruled this great nation for three decades. Is it not proper that he should come out of hiding?"
"Smith isn't in hiding. He's undercover. That's how he operates. Do us both a favor, don't bring this up."
"Why not?"
"Smith might be tempted this time."
Chiun smiled as he stepped into the car and allowed his penitent pupil to close the door for him.
They couldn't get anywhere near Nirvana West by car. Traffic was backed up. A half mile from the place, Remo eased the rented car up onto the soft shoulder of the road.
"Keep an eye out for anyone who might recognize us," Remo warned.
"I am not afraid of Ned Doppler and his ilk."
"Maybe not. But last time out an awful lot of TV anchors bought the farm. Smitty would be upset if you wasted any more."
"I only killed two. One by mistake."
"That was a hell of a big mistake."
"He was easily replaced," sniffed Chiun.
"Just be careful."
They slipped into the woods and made no sound as they worked their way to Nirvana West. Roosting birds were not disturbed by their passing.
"I guess we can scout the situation from that hill," Remo muttered.
They passed through an area of evergreens that had rubbery leaves instead of needles. Their scent was fresh and clean.
Something dropped from a branch onto Remo's shoulder.
He reached up and brushed it off. It scuttled away.
Further along, another sprang onto his head. Remo shook his dark hair and a brownish-red insect jumped off like a grasshopper to vanish amid the parched grass.
Chiun paused. "What is it, Remo?"
"Ant, dammit."
"Why are you so annoyed by a mere ant?"
"Because that's the second one that dropped on me since we got here."
Chiun shrugged. "Since you are an American, you should not complain when food offers itself to you."
They resumed walking. Remo had not gone six paces when another ant leaped onto his bare left forearm. This time, he lifted his arm to take a look at it. It was a rusty red and had the strangest head Remo had ever seen. It looked like a ram's head at the end of a long pipestem neck.
He shook it off, saying, "How come these pesky ants are after me and not you?"
"Because they are wise ants," replied the Master of Sinanju,
"Huh?"
"They understand the fate that awaits them if they intrude upon the Master of Sinanju."
"Ants aren't that smart."
"Nor are you, who cannot walk under a tree branch without acquiring passengers."
"Har de har har," said Remo.
Further ahead, they heard sounds. The noise of a car's suspension getting a workout, but no accompanying engine rumble.
"Better let me take point," said Remo, moving ahead.
Beyond a copse of trees with bark as smooth and shiny as watermelon rind, they came upon a long black limousine parked in the shade.
"We're in luck," Remo whispered. "That's Clancy's car."
"Leave him to me," said Chiun, leaping ahead.
The car was bouncing wildly now, Remo saw.
"Wait a minute, Chiun," he cautioned.
Before Remo could overhaul the Master of Sinanju, he had leaped to the right rear door and flung it open.
"Step into the light, pretender to the throne!" he cried. "For you have much to explain."
No one stepped out, so Chiun peered in. The limo had stopped bouncing on its springs.
Abruptly, the Master of Sinanju jerked back. He turned, his prim features shocked, his hazel eyes wide.
Remo looked in.
Blotto Clancy was sprawled on the spacious backseat, looking like a nude Jabba the Hut. He was sprawled over an equally naked woman.
The woman lifted her head to see over Clancy's cyst-pimpled shoulder. Her eyes went wide behind the eyeholes. The rest of her face was masked by a large fuzzy blue circle that seemed to be made out of cotton candy.
"Can't you see I'm interviewing Senator Clancy," the unmistakable voice of Jane Goodwoman snapped.
"I'm not Senator Clancy. I'm one of his aides," puffed Senator Clancy.
"If this is an interview, what's that blue thing on your face?" demanded Remo.