"How'd it go? Did you get my visa?"
"Well, it took a real struggle. The Chinese authorities gave me the biggest runaround. First they said it was impossible to process your application in less than three months. Then they admitted they could, but they couldn't guarantee your safety from what they called counterrevolutionary elements."
Squirrelly frowned. "Funny how they turned on me so fast. We used to be such friends. So, how'd you coax them off the mark?"
"First," said the First Lady, "I threatened to revoke their preferred-trade status, then I pointed out that I headed the Presidential Commission on Tibetan Independence and if you, my official representative, couldn't go, then I was going."
"You didn't?" Squirrelly squealed.
"I did."
"And they gave in?"
"Caved in. Like a house of cards."
"I love it! I love it! When do I leave?"
"As soon as you want. Listen, it would be a good idea if you went to India first and got the blessing of the Dalai Lama."
"The cute little munchkin with the glasses? He's adorable."
"Make it very high profile. The higher the better. That way they won't dare mess with you."
"I'll give him a kiss for you."
"I'll be watching your progress on CNN. Gotta run. I have meetings all day long. Good luck!"
Squirrelly Chicane hung up the phone and immediately dialed a Virginia number.
"Mother, I'm going! This is so great. And listen to this, I'm going to pay the Delhi Lamb a courtesy call."
"Try not to sleep with him, dear. He's a religious figure."
Squirrelly made her voice chilly. "The thought never crossed my mind."
"But it would. The older you get, the more like your brother you seem."
"Just for that, no postcards from Tibet for you" And Squirrelly hung up. She leaned back on her hard kang, and wondered if there was some ecclesiastical law against two lamas getting it on. She would have to remember to ask Lobsang. He knew all that secret Buddhist stuff.
Chapter 15
The minister of state security entered Beijing's Great Hall of the People wearing his gray Mao suit and carrying his empty hands at his sides.
The premier of China in his own gray Mao suit sat with his hands folded. The premier nodded, indicating the empty chair to his immediate left. His eyes were heavy of lid, as if sleep beckoned. This seeming inattentiveness had fooled many a rival in the near past.
The minister of state security eased into the seat and waited for the premier to speak. They were alone in the Great Hall of the People. That did not mean that they were either unobserved or that their words would not carry to plotting ears. China was at a crossroads. She looked inward, but increasingly the outer world intruded. These were worrisome times.
"What news?" asked the premier in a diffident voice.
"From those who sleep, no word."
The premier's heavy-lidded eyes grew heavier still.
"Perhaps," he said, "their sleep will be long and restful."
"There is no reason to doubt this, Comrade Premier," said the security minister.
And by these oblique words, bland but carefully chosen, both men understood that their sleeper agents in California, across the Pacific Ocean, were either dead or incapacitated.
The silence between them grew long and heavy.
Presently the premier broke it. "Is the visitor who was expected still to come?"
"The visitor has elected to drop in on a relative she did not know existed before journeying farther."
"In times past, these two did not get along so well," the premier noted. "I wonder if this has changed."
"I have not heard."
The premier frowned. "Darkness piles upon darkness, and no one knows when the sun will rise."
"Perhaps the visitor will elect to remain in the house of her newfound relative and not journey farther"
"Can this be encouraged?"
"Anything is possible," said the security minister.
"This would be a good thing if it can be done correctly," said the premier, closing his heavy lids as if to surrender to sleep.
Seeing this, the minister of state security rose from his seat, knowing that the meeting had concluded. Without another word, he padded from the Great Hall of the People to communicate with his assets in India, who would be instructed to proceed with caution inasmuch as the wife of the United States President had taken a personal interest in the Bunji Lama.
Chapter 16
The FedEx trucks were parked in every available parking spot in the street before the impossibly ugly edifice the Master of Sinanju had dubbed Castle Sinanju when Remo Williams pulled up. Although he had a private blacktop parking lot large enough to accommodate more than a dozen cars, Remo had to park his blue Buick Regal on a side street and walk back.
"Christ," Remo muttered under his breath. "I hope Chiun hasn't gone on another Home Shopping Network binge."
The FedEx trucks sat very low on their springs, he noticed. The couriers were walking pretty low to their centers of gravity, too, as they tried to diver the small wooden crates without herniating themselves.
Then Remo remembered.
"The gold!"
He beat a courier to the door and opened it for him.
"I don't suppose you're M.O.S. Chiun," the courier said, puffing.