"What do you know of Jong?" Remo asked Chiun in English.
"He is said to be more ruthless, more cruel than Sung."
"That's bad."
"No, it is good. If one works for him. For only in the West are the qualities of goodness and sensitivity valued in a leader."
The tank dropped them off before the grim grandeur of the People's Palace on the banks of the Tae- dong River.
The sergeant of the guards stepped out, flanked by Kalashnikov-toting soldiers and demanded that the Master of Sinanju prove his identity before being permitted to set eyes upon the glory of Dear Leader.
The Master of Sinanju stepped up and identified himself by raising a single ivory fingernail before the face of the sergeant of the guards. The sergeant's eyes crossed comically.
The fingernail drove into his brow with the sound of bone being pierced, and the sergeant of the guards found himself being spun in place. The sound of his skull being carved like a coconut hurt the ears.
Impelled by the upward hooking of the terrible fingernail, the top of his head popped like a champagne cork. A kicking sandal sent the fallen crown skittering away, and the sergeant of the guards went scurrying after it in the last moments of his life.
The others, satisfied as to the Master of Sinanju's identity, dutifully stepped aside.
"You were lucky you didn't ask me," Remo told them in Korean. "I'm a master of the Wedgie of Death."
The elevator was big enough to hold a square dance in and it took them to the top so fast Remo thought they were being launched into orbit.
Kim Jong II, resplendent in a silver race driver's suit and aviator glasses, met them. He was so squat and wide he looked as if he had been raised in a box. His fingers resembled fat yellow worms, and his pudgy face lacked all trace of character or personality.
"It is a very great pleasure to meet you, Gracious Master," he said, smiling. "My father has spoken of you often."
Chiun offered the slightest of bows with his head. "How fares he?"
"Near death, with a goiter almost the size of his fist protruding from his neck." Jong grinned. "He would make a good movie monster the way he looks now."
Chiun frowned. This was not the Jong he had heard of. His ways were soft.
"I understand your sadness," Kim Jong II said, noting the look that crossed the Master of Sinanju's face. "For my father told me the glorious story of how he personally led the victorious forces in the legendary Battle of Sinanju."
"Your father told you that?" Chiun said quickly.
"Many times."
"Then he is a many-times liar."
Kim Jong II blinked. "It would not be the first time," he admitted glumly. Kim noticed Remo then. "I see you have brought back a slave from America. I myself have several Japanese tourists that I have had kidnapped from other countries. The geisha are particularly squishy."
Chiun's hands coming together were a thunderclap. "Enough of this prattle."
"Yes, I called you here for a very excellent reason."
"And we came for an even better one," snapped Chiun.
"Ah?"
"A submarine of the West lies crushed and broken off the sweet shore of my village."
"I know nothing of this," said Kim Jong II.
"He's lying," said Remo in Korean.
"I know," said Chiun coldly. To the younger Kim, he said, "It is only the respect that I hold for your illustrious father that prevents me from disemboweling you where you stand, whelp. Know that the submarine of the West carried the gold of Sinanju, and that gold is now gone."
"That was your gold?" Kim Jong II blurted.
"Hah!" Remo said. "The truth comes out."
"Damn," said Jong. "I was never good at this intrigue stuff. Listen, if I come clean, will you do me a favor in return?" "If you come clean," Chiun said, "my white son will not clean your innards of your smoking bowels."
"Fair enough," said Jong. "I just had a tip telling me you two were in town. He happened to mention the gold and who has it now."
"Speak!"
"Captain Yokang Sako of the SA-I-GU. It is he."
"On whose authority?"
"His own. He was in collusion with someone."
"Name that person."
Kim Jong II bit his plump upper lip. "He is called Comrade."
Remo advanced, saying, "Do better than that. Everybody in this black hole is called that."
"I do not know that person by name," Jong protested. "I only know the voice. He is what you call a wheeler-dealer. I have wheeled many deals with him."
"Why did he call you with this information?" demanded Chiun.
"He is upset with Yokang and wants me to recover the gold for him."
"In return for what?"
"It is the other way around. I promised I would recover the gold in exchange for his tip that the Master of Sinanju was available for service, no longer being under contract to America."
"This Comrade told you this?" Chiun said.
"Yes."
Remo and Chiun exchanged glances. "Someone knows too much about our business," Remo said.