"And we will land back."
"They'll seize the car. They already tried it once."
"It is time you got a new car," Chiun sniffed.
"New? I trade this in every six months. You know that."
"I meant a vehicle of quality and worth. Not an American garbage can on wheels."
"Take it up with me if we're still employed at the end of all this."
"Next time buy Korean."
"I wouldn't drive a Korean car off a cliff," said Remo, opening the door. "Now, are you getting out or not?"
"Why must I walk?"
"Because you can't fly, and neither can I. Let's go. Not that I'm looking forward to telling Smith we came up empty trying to find his wife."
Chiun emerged from the passenger side. They began walking. "You will explain that to him, not I."
"You gonna back me up?"
"Yes. I will confirm your failure if that is your wish."
"You didn't find her, either."
"That is not my fault."
"Then it's not mine, either."
"That will be for Emperor Smith to judge. But you will explain all this to him because technically you are not employed by him. You can afford to incur his displeasure. As the sole support of the House of Sinanju, I cannot."
They came to the gate. Remo got up against one of the brick gateposts and peered around it cautiously.
"The coast looks clear," he said.
"What about Fortress Folcroft?" Chiun asked.
"That's what I meant."
"And I meant the cretins who sit in boats with their guns."
"The DEA? I took care of them."
They entered through the gateposts.
Remo's eyes went skyward. He noticed that the trio of circling birds were flying lower, their great wings rising and dipping in languorous waves. It seemed impossible that the air could support them. Their wings were barely moving.
"Looks like they're back," Remo muttered.
Chiun frowned. "They seem familiar to my eyes."
"I was just thinking the same thing."
"They are not sea gulls."
"Sure aren't vultures, either."
"They resemble vultures."
"Maybe they're condors."
"Perhaps they are not birds at all," said Chiun, frowning quizzically.
"They gotta be birds. What could they be except birds?"
"I do not know, but they are an ill omen."
"No argument there," said Remo. "Come on. Let's go in the assassin's entrance."
They reached the freight entrance unseen, and the moment they entered the basement the Master of Sinanju repeated a question that had seldom left his papery lips all night long.
"Where is my gold?"
"Safe as soap."
"That is no answer."
"If it were my gold, I'd say it was the best answer there is. "
"Pah!"
They floated up the steps to the first floor and took a chance on the elevator. It was resting on the first floor, and their sharp hearing told them it was unoccupied.
The doors rolled open at the touch of the call button.
They rode it to the third floor, and Remo stuck his head out, looking both ways before he signaled for Chiun to follow.
The psychiatric wing was quiet. No doctors seemed to be on the floor.
As they passed Jeremiah Purcell's cell, Remo's face hardened.
"He remains a prisoner?" Chiun asked, noting Remo's stare.
Remo nodded. "I wish he were dead."