"Our careers are saved," another murmured.
And from the corrugated door came a fierce screech, followed by a burst of raw sunlight, and a voice boomed, "Stand back from the gold of Sinanju or face the wrath of its awesome protector!"
Chapter 14
The voice of the Master of Sinanju was still echoing off the concrete walls when Remo faded back and took out the two IRS agents directly at his back with his elbows. He brought them back and up and nailed the agents on the point of their chins too fast for their dull senses to see him coming.
They dropped like wet oatmeal poured into off-the-rack suits.
From a standing position, Remo pivoted and took out a MAC-11 that was swiveling toward the corrugated door. The machine pistol lost its barrel, and the agent clutching the grip lost his weapon to the sudden fury of Remo's side kick. He was clutching his gun hand when something that felt like a ball-peen hammer knocked him flat.
Remo began weaving among the others, tapping them on their skulls with a steel-hard forefinger. Nobody got off a shot. Everybody went down hard.
"Take them out clean," Remo called.
"They have profaned my gold," Chiun squeaked.
"They only just found it. Now, do as I say."
The Master of Sinanju leaped into the basement like a great monarch butterly taking wing. But he landed on Jack Koldstad with the ferocity of a pouncing tiger.
Koldstad threw up his arms to shield himself, but his arms were forced aside so that the raking fingernails scored vertical lines in his surprised face. His mouth opened in a frozen scream, and two thumbs found the indentations on either side of his narrow forehead.
Jack Koldstad never felt the long thumbnails plunge into his brain. He just rolled his eyes up and made a pile of clothes-covered meat on the floor where he had been standing.
Remo saw all this out of the corner of his eye as he finished his sweep of the IRS. He went for knees and, when collapsing legs brought agents' heads down, he slapped the consciousness out of them with the flat of his hands.
Smack smack smack.
The last agent collapsed onto the one just before him, and Remo turned toward the Master of Sinanju, who was shaking the dust from his wide kimono sleeves like a flustered black-and-orange bat.
"I said not to kill anyone," Remo complained.
"I did not."
"I saw you drive your nails into the head guy's skull."
"I drove them into the part of the brain he obviously did not use. He will live."
"I'll believe it when I see it," grumbled Remo, joining the Master of Sinanju at the open door to the computer room.
"Well, the cat's out of the bag now," said Remo, surveying the scattering of unconscious IRS agents.
"They must all die. It is Smith's edict that any who trespass upon his kingly preserves forefeit their lives."
"We'll check with Smith first."
"I will not leave my gold unattended, for obviously you are not equal to the task."
"So sue me. I didn't think they'd get the door broken down."
"You should have broken their empty skulls."
"Look, I'll take this up with Smith, I said."
"I do not trust you to return with the correct answer. We will both take this up with Smith."
"Fine with me."
HAROLD SMITH would have groaned had his body been his to command.
But the Master of Sinanju hadn't restored his bodily functions. It was a terrible feeling because it was the second day, and even though they had hooked up an IV tube and were feeding him intravenously, his bowels felt like sausages filled with cold, soggy bran meal. But his body refused to release the inert matter that made him feel as constipated as an elephant in tall sugarcane.
He forgot his inner distress as the Master of Sinanju tried to explain the situation. "The tax terrorists have breached your holy of holies, your sanctum sanctorum, O Smith."
"That means they found the gold," Remo added by way of explanation.
They hovered over his bed like anxious angels, Chiun's face a guarded mask, Remo's looking worried.
"But have no fear," continued Chiun. "We dispatched them all."
"Actually they're just down for the count. Except that guy Koldstad. Maybe he'll live, maybe he won't."
"They live or die at your pleasure, O Emperor. You have only to blink twice, and I will see that their body parts nourish the fish of the cold blue bay that is called the sound."
"It's up to you, Smitty. For my money, they were throwing their weight around like they were the KGB. They could use a lesson in manners."
Smith blinked furiously.
"He has decreed that they die!"
Smith blinked even more furiously.
Remo said, "Look again. He's blinking to beat the band. I think he wants to say something."
Remo reached out to Smith's forehead.
"No, I will do it." And Chiun's finger touched the spot.
"I instructed you to get rid of the gold first!" Smith said, sitting up. A strange expression crossed his face, and Remo pinched his nose shut with his right thumb and index finger.
The Master of Sinanju withdrew several paces with alacrity and continued the audience from a far corner of the room.
"I called for a moving van, Smitty. But the earliest they'd come is tomorrow. Besides, the grounds are crawling with IRS agents. So Chiun and I figured we'd take care of the other business first while we figured a way to work it out."
"You failed," Smith said bitterly.