Word by word, phrase by phrase, she translated the coordinates of the sailing merchants and the
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descriptions of the ancient people to whose city the mountain of-gold had been moved.
"In their time, this city would have to be Bombay and the people would have to be Indian and I'm certain they refer to the Temple of the goddess Gint. That was my main clue. She is the goddess of inner peace and exists only at the city limits of Bombay. Simple, You see?"
She looked around for approval, but Chiun merely continued to stare off at the horizon. Remo yawned and continued not to tan.
"Why don't you tan?" she said.
"Don't want to."
"You know, you have a basically hostile personality."
"Why not?" Remo said.
Terri did not speak to him all the way on the three different flights to India. She noticed he did not sleep much either, perhaps fifteen minutes a night.
"I suppose you won't tell me why you need so little sleep either," she said.
"I'll tell you but you won't understand," he said.
"Try me."
"I sleep more intensely. There are different levels of sleep and I sleep all of them at once. You see, with me, I am in control of body functions that you're not in control of. Tanning, everything. I can tan because I can control the element in my skin that tans. Or I can not tan."
"Ask a silly question and you get an absolutely stupid answer," said Dr, Terri Pomfet.
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There were two problems with the Bombay Airport. One was that Remo, Chiun, and Terri were photographed by some lunatic wearing a Gunga Din costume, who kept sneaking around, trying not to be noticed and was therefore noticed.
The bigger problem with Bombay Airport was that it was downwind from a great concentration of Indians. It was downwind from the city and from the river it used as a refuse system for its sewage. When there was sewage. Mainly, the Indians just used the streets.
Tourist photographs of the city showed only the colors, the beautiful pastels, the fetching eyes peering out over diaphanous veils, the beautiful domed temples, the exquisitely carved nose rings, stately beige oxen walking down through the ages of man.
Photographs did not show what the oxen left behind them.
Stories never mentioned what Terri had to go through as she set foot off the plane and began retching with the other tourists who were now experiencing exciting India, moral leader of the Third World.
The tourist group's Indian guide explained how India was based on democratic principles and the highest moral values of mankind. What was even better was that the tourists didn't have to worry about pickpockets because the local police dealt with pickpockets by sticking pins in their eyes, very effectively blinding them forever.
"So we have two things. A moral order of the highest plane and safe streets."
But no one listened to the guide. Eyes teared up over handkerchiefs and people were giving up their
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beautiful Air India lunches which had been served with flowers. Now everyone knew why India grew such luxurious flowers.
"Plant 'em in the air and they'll be fertilized," said one tourist.
Terri looked up to Remo and Chiun who were walking along, obviously unbothered by the stench.
"How do you do it?" she gasped.
"We don't breathe as much when we don't want to," Remo said.
"Bastard," said Terri. "You joke now."
"I could help you but you are going to have to trust me."
"I'd rather vomit," said Terri.
"You make too much noise retching," said Remo, and he pressed Terri's spine and removed some of the tension in her stomach and spinal column.
"Breathe deep," he said.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can." Remo closed her nose and covered her mouth with his free hand. He let the oxygen debt build up red in her face and then released her. Terri gagged in a complete lungful of air.
She looked around startled. She waited to vomit. But suddenly the air was breathable. There was no smell to it.
"What did you do?" she asked Remo.
"I acclimated you quickly. You can't smell it because India is now a part of you. Don't breathe seeds, though, or you'll have flowers coming out of your mouth in no time."
"Well, thanks anyhow," said Terri.
In rapid-fire Korean, Chiun told Remo that one
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should never expect gratitude from the pitiful because when they were relieved of their burden of stupidity, they always turned on their benefactors.
"How can you say that?" asked Remo. "That's not always the case."
"It was with you," said Chiun and he chuckled and Remo knew that Chiun's trip to India had just been made worthwhile by that single remark.
"Heh, heh, it was with you," Chiun repeated. "Heh, heh."
"Your Master of Sinanju seems so happy, it is always a pleasure to be around him," said Terri, who still could not understand the street Korean that Chiun had spoken to Remo.
Far off in a 'little valley they could see the pink-domed temples of the goddess Gint. Lustrous glass filled curving apertures in the many windows of the goddess' home. Poles reflecting silver and gold and emeralds glistened before the delicate jade and ivory archways.