"Go for the battery!" Remo shouted. "Maybe that'll stop it!'
Chiun slashed, failed to connect and began stamping every place the energetic rabbit seemed to be. But the bunny was too tricky. Each time Chiun stamped empty air. But inexorably he maneuvered the thing in Remo's direction.
Blocking its path, Remo tried for the battery. His hands swiped empty air futilely.
"Is that the best you can do, sluggish one?" Chiun snapped.
"I can't help it. It just keeps going and going, just like on TV"
The bunny stopped, its plush head going from side to side, as if taunting them with their impotence.
"I got an idea," Remo said, fists clenching.
"Remo, look!"
The Master of Sinanju was pointing skyward. Remo looked up. And forgot all about the impossible pink bunny.
So low over their heads that they could see the menace in their eyes, circled the three shadowy birds of prey. Only now they were no longer shadowy and indistinct, but very near overhead.
They were purple and bony. Their hatchet faces twisted as they peered down at Remo and Chiun, leathery wings flapping, soundless and unreal.
"Terror birds!" squeaked Chiun.
"Pterodactyls, you mean," said Remo, face hardening to bone.
One purple pterodactyl broke off and, beak yawning, made a snatch at Remo. Remo backpedaled easily. Then he caught himself.
"What am I doing? It's not real."
"Do not take a chance, Remo," warned Chiun.
"You know what this is," Remo said to Chiun, circling the roof. "It's no more real than that stupid windup rabbit."
The Master of Sinanju stood rooted as a second purple pterodactyl fixed its beady eyes upon him. Wings folding, it broke off its lazy spiral and went for Chiun's upraised arm.
Chiun wove a web before his face with his fingernails. The pterodactyl's face should have been clawed to ribbons. Instead, it twisted, wings straining to their utmost, vaulting back to rejoin the circle, face unscathed.
"See?" said Remo. "It's not real. None of them are real." He strode over to the pink bunny. "Not even this little guy."
The bunny was zipping around in broken circles, beating its drum in agitation, the name-brand battery on its back clearly visible.
"Forget it, Purcell," Remo shouted through cupped hands. "We know it's you. You don't fool us."
The pink plush bunny continued its crazy weaving pattern, while the purple pterodactyls swarmed so close their claw-tipped wings dipped within reach.
Remo gave one an angry swipe. Remo's hand seemed to disappear into the thing's skin. The batlike creature flew on, unfazed.
The Polarizer Bunny suddenly halted and started spinning in place. It became a whirling top, then a cone that grew, changing color as it expanded. Pink became purple in which other colors made streaks of flesh, yellow blond and neon blue.
When it stopped spinning, the purple-robed figure of the Dutchman, Jeremiah Purcell, stood tall and proud. He gave a toss of his long corn-silk tresses and fixed Remo with his electric blue eyes.
He dropped into an attack crouch. His lips split into a taunting smile.
Remo executed a perfect Sinanju Heron Drop, snapping into the air from a standing start. It took him to a point over the Dutchman's head, both legs coiled under him to deliver a double death blow.
Chiun's shriek of warning came too late.
Legs uncoiling, Remo dropped straight down.
And landed on flat asphalt.
Remo snap-rolled to his feet, turning toward the sound of a beating drum.
Doom doom doom doom...
As he completed his turn, the drum was suddenly behind him. Every time he twisted, Remo just missed his tormentor.
"Face me, Purcell!"
Chiun's voice called. "He is gone, Remo."
"What?"
"There is no one there. Only sounds."
Remo came out of his fighting crouch. His hands relaxed slowly.
The drumbeat faded into nothingness.
The Master of Sinanju padded up to his pupil. "You could have killed yourself with your uncontrolled anger."
Remo frowned. "Come on, Little Father. Let's get to the bottom of this."
Remo turned toward the roof hatch. Poking up was the incredulous face of Big Dick Brull.
"What are you looking at!" Remo barked.
"Nothing," Brull gulped, his head dropping from sight like a gopher retreating into its burrow.
WHEN THEY GOT OFF the ladder, Big Dick Brull and his IRS agents were standing about looking pale and foolish.
"This place is a madhouse," Brull said weakly.
"It is a sanitarium," said Remo.
Harold Smith said, "I could see everything from here. Pterodactyls, were they not?"