She tried rolling over. It was an effort.
"Imelda! Bring me my healing crystals. Quick!"
But the healing crystals failed to work after her trusted Philippina maid had rubbed them up and down her bumpy spine.
"I will call doctor, Miss Squirrelly."
"No way. Doctors are old-fashioned."
"But you cannot get out of the bed."
"It'll pass. It's probably just a crick from the cold. Close all the windows and get a good fire going. That'll warm up my wise old bones."
"I think that is a good idea," Imelda said, replacing the covers.
"Good."
"Heat is good for arthritis."
"Arthritis?"
"My poor mother had it just like you got it, Miss Squirrelly. On damp mornings she could not even turn over."
"Arthritis! It can't be. I eat smart. I do my yoga. And I'm a Taurus."
"You are not a young woman anymore."
And the maid slipped from the room to start the great fireplace going.
Squirrelly Chicane lay on her pink silk sheets, her disordered mop of red hair on the pink satin pillow, and stared at the pink ceiling with troubled blue eyes.
"I'm sixty and I'm falling apart," she moaned. "Why me? Why now?"
Chapter 8
At LAX, Lobsang Drom and Kula the Mongol looked to Remo Williams with expectation writ large on their faces.
"Which way lies the Bunji Lama, White Tiger?" asked Kula.
"What are you looking at me for?" Remo replied.
"This is your land," said Kula. "Do you not know your own neighbors?"
"We just crossed the entire freaking country."
"We must consult another oracle," announced Chiun.
They looked around the airport. Video monitors were mounted at several locations.
"But which one?" asked Lobsang. "There are so many."
"We will each seek the answer, and good fortune smile upon him who discovers the truth first," proclaimed Chiun.
Kula and Lobsang stood before different monitors, attracting rude stares.
"Quick, Remo!" Chiun urged. "We must discover where Squirrelly Chicane lives, or I will forfeit my Mongol gold!"
"Couldn't you have thought of that before we left?"
"What is a pilgrimage without uncertainty?"
"Over with quicker," said Remo. "Look, let's call Smith. He's got every useless piece of trivia that ever was stored on those computers of his."
"No, not Smith."
"Why not?"
"If you ask Smith for Squirrelly Chicane's address, he will want to know why you wish this knowledge. I do not want him to know that I am sunlighting. "
Remo sighed. "The word is 'moonlighting.' And have it your way."
Chiun clapped his hands abruptly. "Remo has had a revelation," he called out. "We must do as he says."
The others returned and regarded Remo with narrowed eyes.
"I say we rent a car to start," said Remo.
Reluctantly Kula and Lobsang followed Remo and Chiun to a car-rental counter. Seeing that it was staffed by a woman, Kula said suddenly, "I demand the honor of renting the vehicle that will transport us to our destiny."
When no one else claimed the honor, Kula whispered, "Remo, teach me the honeyed words American men use to impress their women with their virility and yaks. I wish to practice wooing your women so that when America writhes under our merciful heel, no woman will go unsatisfied."
" 'I have herpes' is a pretty arresting opening line," said Remo.
Purposefully Kula marched up to the counter and, slapping down his gold card, announced, "I am Kula the Mongol, owner of many yaks. I also have herpes in plenty, unlike your weak American men."
A minute later Kula came back with the rental keys in his hand and a broad smile on his face.
"She was very impressed. Her face paled in surprise, and her eyes went exceedingly round in her head."
"Would I steer you wrong?" said Remo.
The rental had a cellular phone, and once they were in traffic, Remo dialed directory assistance, breathing through his mouth because the smell emanating from the old Bunji Lama's trunk in the seat beside him hadn't improved any. Opening the windows didn't help, either. The stench of pollution smelled almost as bad.
"Give me the numbers of the Hollywood tour-bus services," he asked. "All of them."
"Do you have a pencil handy?" asked the operator.