"Call Schwarzenegger"
"Schwarz-"
"And Stallone. Try Seagal, Van Damme and any other hunky muscle type you can think of. Tell them to come running. I need to be rescued. Big-time. A real Technicolor Hollywood rescue."
"I thought you said you just escaped."
"I said," Squirrelly said, her voice going steely, "I just escaped prison. I didn't escape the country. Will you listen for once? I need a big splashy rescue. Tell them we're going to liberate Tibet from the evil Chinese."
"I thought they liked you, Squirl.''
"We're having creative differences, okay?"
"Sooo . . . you need help? My big sister who has all the answers?"
"Yes, Warren, I need help. Liberating Tibet is no two-week shoot. You should see the size of this place. And the mountains. It's positively crawling with mountains."
The drawl at the other end of the line grew oily and ingratiating. "If I make these calls, what're you gonna do for me?"
"Okay. Okay. I can see where this is going, Warren. You wanna be low lama? You got it. You wanna be Tibetan ambassador to Tahiti? I can arrange that."
"What do the Tibetan girls look like?"
"Short, round and not your type."
"Okay, then I want you."
"Cut it out, Warren."
"You, or I hang up."
"You wouldn't do that to your own sister."
"I've run out of erotic experiences. It's you or I slash my wrists."
"Warren, be my guest. Slash your wrists. Enjoy." And Squirrelly slammed the phone down. "I hope you come back as a sexless worm in your next incarnation, Warren!" she added for good measure.
When she turned, the others were staring at her with round, dubious eyes.
"Don't look at me like that!" she fumed. "You can't pick your relatives, you know."
Kula beamed. "Such wisdom from one who has been Bunji Lama for only three days. Truly the Chinese have no chance against us."
"And we will have no chance if we do not leave this place before alarms are raised," warned Chiun in a stern tone. "Come."
On the way out Squirrelly grabbed her Oscar off the desk.
Chapter 29
The word was flashed from Lhasa to Beijing by military radio: "The Bunji Lama has escaped."
It reached the ears of the premier of China by coded telegram.
In his office in the Great Hall of the People, where the air hung thick and stale with tobacco smoke, the premier smoked furiously as he read the telegram slowly. And then again. Once it had been committed to memory, he used the burning end of his cigarette to set the sensitive telegram alight.
He placed it in the porcelain ashtray in one corner of his desk and watched the edges brown and darken to black as the leaping orange flames danced and consumed the sheet. When it was a delicate ball of unreadable paper, he crushed it to ashes with tobacco-stained fingers so callused they felt none of the dissipating heat.
Only then did he call the minister of state security.
The line rang and rang. Finally an operator came on to report that the line was not currently in working order.
"By whose order?" asked the premier in a hoarse voice.
The operator obviously recognized the voice of the highest authority in the People's Republic of China.
His voice squeaked as he replied, "By order of the minister of state security."
"Get me the minister of public security."
When the correct voice came on the line, the premier issued gruff orders. "Have the minister of state security brought before me without delay."
"In irons?" the minister of public security asked hopefully.
"No. But have irons ready."
The minister of state security arrived within fifteen minutes. He was ushered in looking ashen and wiping his high brow.
"Sit."
The security minister sat. With a casual wave of two fingers that vised a smoking cigarette, the premier waved the security guards to shut the door. He did not have to stipulate that it should be shut as they left. It was understood that this was to be a very private conversation.
"The Bunji has escaped Drapchi Prison," the premier said without preamble.
The minister of state security showed quickwittedness. He jumped to his feet and announced, "I will have those responsible shot for dereliction of duty."
"You are responsible."
"But I have been in Beijing all along and out of touch with Lhasa"
"And now you will go to Lhasa and resolve this unpleasant matter."
The security minister, relief in his voice, started for the door. "At once, Comrade Premier."
"Sit. I have not yet told you how you will accomplish this."
The security minister sat down hard. He waited.