"No."
"Then where do you worship your ancestors?"
"Usually I just call home and talk to my folks."
"If the joss is not found, she is disqualified," Lobsang said sternly.
"But I don't wanna be disqualified," moaned Squirrelly. "I wanna be the Bunji Lamb. I deserve to be the Bunji Lamb. I've been just about everything else. Except the Queen of Sheba. My friend Poopi has dibs on her."
"Does this mean we can go home now?" asked Remo.
"Not until this entire house is searched and the joss found or not found," said Chiun firmly.
"Somebody tell me what a joss is and I'll help you look," Squirrelly said helpfully.
"It is an icon unique in all the world, which with his dying breath the last Bunji Lama described in detail," said Chiun, casting his eyes around the room but avoiding the mantel over the crackling fire.
So it was that Remo Williams, trying to look everywhere but directly at Squirrelly Chicane, spotted the sword-wielding golden statuette without a face.
He blinked. He started to open his mouth, caught himself and slipped up to the fireplace to stand directly in front of the statue, blocking it from view.
"Why don't you guys check the other rooms?" he said casually. "I got this one covered."
Chapter 9
The minute the others left the living room of Squirrelly Chicane's Malibu beach house, Remo turned, grabbed a goldplated statuette off the mantelpiece and tried to find a place to stash it.
The redwood furniture was spare and modern. Not a single cushion to hide anything under. Under the couch looked inviting, but knowing Chiun, Remo figured that would be the first place he'd look.
That left the fireplace. Remo hated to do it-the statue wasn't his property-but this might be an emergency. Whatever Chiun was up to, trouble was sure to follow.
Remo tossed the statue into the fireplace so it landed behind the burning log.
Except the log wasn't really a log, but some kind of papier-mache pseudolog. The minute the statue hit it, the thing cracked in half with a mushy sound and a shower of sparks.
The statue lay in the flames and whirling bits of burning paper exposed for anyone to see.
"Damn," said Remo.
He had no choice. He had to hide the damned thing. Getting down on one knee, Remo reached into the flames. His hand went in and out so fast it was a pink blur, driving a wall of air before it and pushing aside the hungry flames. The hairs on the back of his hand weren't so much as singed when he pulled it out again.
The statue was hot, though. Holding it lightly so the hot metal wouldn't sear his fingertips, Remo rushed it over to the Bunji Lama's trunk and stuffed it behind the mummy's squatting form. Then he closed the trunk.
When the Master of Sinanju returned a few minutes later, Remo tried to look innocent.
Chiun, seeing his expression, said, "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing. Just turning the log." Remo pointed at the shattered log and kept his face relaxed.
Then Kula stormed in saying, "I have found it! I have found it! The defaced joss!"
And he held up the golden statue that was familiar to anyone who ever watched an Academy Award ceremony.
"It is the joss that was foretold!" Chiun cried. "Exactly as foretold."
"It is?" said Squirrelly.
"This is your joss?" demanded Lobsang.
"Yes, of course it's mine."
"I found it holding open the door to the well room," said Kula. "Like a worthless object."
"Yeah, I use that one for a doorstop. What's a girl to do when she has so many josses?"
"It does not look like a Buddha," Lobsang said. "What is this joss called?"
"Oscar."
"Os-car? How came you by it?"
"That thing? Oh, I've only had it for a million years.
Just then, everyone noticed the smoke.
"Where is that smoke coming from?" asked Chiun, crinkling his tiny nose.
"It comes from the trunk of the old Bunji Lama," said Kula. "See? It has closed itself. Now it is smoking. The Bunji Lama craves our attention."
"Oh, hell," muttered Remo. "Here it comes."
Kula threw open the trunk. Pungent smoke rolled out. It smelled like a compost pile on fire.
"What is it you wish to reveal, O Light That Was?" asked Lobsang of the wizened form.
But the old Bunji Lama simply sat there, smoking. Then, all at once, his gold brocade robe surged up in fire.
"It is being consumed!" Lobsang cried. "The old Bunji Lama is leaving us. What can it mean?"
"It means," Remo said dryly, "that he caught fire."
As they watched, the mummy blackened, shriveled and collapsed into a pile of sooty bones and ash.
Revealed was a statue of gold, blank of face and holding a sword point down in his joined hands.
"Look," Kula gasped, "it is another faceless joss. Exactly like the first."