It was like a ground-based fireworks display. "If we're lucky, that's coming from the Fort Joy disco," Remo commented tightly as they flew up the hard-packed road.
In the rear, Arthur Ford watched the strobing pulses with silent awe.
The wind as they drove tore mightily at the wisps of hair at Chiun's chin and above his ears. The Master of Sinanju was deep in thought.
More and more, Chiun had begun to accept Remo's seemingly unbelievable story. As he did so, his concern for Remo had grown proportionally. He glanced at his pupil now.
Remo's jaw was clenched. His expression was dour as the jeep flew along the desolate path. Chiun focused his hearing on Remo's heart.
It was still remarkably good, all things considered. His body was working overtime to right itself.
Inwardly Chiun was impressed. The abilities of his son in spirit rivaled those of the greatest Masters of Sinanju. Even surpassed some. The time of Remo's ascension to Reigning Master was overdue.
But no matter how quickly Remo healed now, it would matter little if he fared as poorly in his second encounter with this mysterious creature as he had in his first. For in his current weakened state, Remo would not survive.
Remo's frown deepened as he sensed his teacher's eyes upon him.
"Stop staring at me all the time," he griped abruptly. "I told you, I'm fine."
"I am not worried about you," Chiun said mildly, looking forward once more. "I am trying to decide how to explain your failure against this alleged creature in the Sinanju scrolls. Perhaps the electricity was attracted to your nose or ears," he suggested. "They would be obvious targets."
"He hit me in the chest, Chiun," Remo said, irked.
Chiun nodded. "Therein lies my dilemma."
"I bleed for you."
"Of course, it would be easier for me if you did not fail again."
"I'll do my best," Remo promised.
"That would make my task as chronicler of your misadventures simpler. I would hate to have to bend the truth in the Masters' scrolls."
If he weren't so concerned with what they were about to face, Remo would have laughed out loud. As far as the sacred scrolls of Sinanju were concerned, Chiun was notorious for twisting the truth into whatever pretzel-shaped contortions suited his carp of the day. Instead of commenting on this fact, Remo concentrated on the road ahead.
He had only a few miles to correct his erratic heartbeat, and at the rate he was going he'd never be at his peak by the time they reached their target.
Beside Remo, the Master of Sinanju sensed the concern of his pupil.
Deeply troubled, both men stared silently ahead at the hypnotic pulsing flashes that rose from out the heart of the desert night.
ROOTE CREPT SILENTLY alongside the command center.
He was alone. The sporadic attacks he had fended off since leaving the infirmary had stopped. The men had either fled or were regrouping for another assault.
It wouldn't matter. By the time they came back at him, Chesterfield would be dead. Afterward, Roote would stroll right out the main gate. Anyone who tried to stop him would be killed, too. Thanks to Ironbutt Chesterfield, Elizu Roote was certain to come out on top.
As he approached the general's office, Roote could see a vague dark shape moving on the other side of the thick, translucent plastic that covered the hole in the wall.
Roote didn't move too quickly. He was careful not to make a sound. He wanted nothing more than to surprise General Chesterfield with his sudden appearance.
The plastic had been torn roughly along one edge. As he braced his back against the wall, Roote took the jagged section between his metal finger pads.
There were staples running all along the top and sides of the sheet. With a single, mighty tug, he wrenched the plastic free of the wall. As fast as the sound came, he had already slipped in through the opening.
Without hesitation, Roote fired bolts from all ten fingers at the startled figure across the office. The surge of electricity caught the man in the chest. Eyes flew open in shock as he was lifted off the floor. An instant later, his back slammed against the far wall.
The officer collapsed to the floor. Dead.
The satisfaction Roote had expected on entering the room never materialized. The soldier wasn't Chesterfield.
Roote vaguely recognized the dead lieutenant. So it wasn't the officer he'd been looking for. So what? Chesterfield was here. Somewhere. And Elizu Roote would find him if he had to kill every last soldier on Fort Joy in the process.
He was about to duck back through the hole in the wall when the general's desk telephone jangled to life.
A perverse curiosity took hold of Roote. Striding across the room, he dropped into Chesterfield's chair. His gold fingertips clicked on the receiver as he lifted the phone to his ear.
"General Chesterfield's office," he drawled pleasantly. A smile crossed his face as he glanced at the smoking corpse lying on the floor.
"Please inform the general that his jeep is ready at the motor pool," a tart voice commanded. Roote sat up.
"What for?" he questioned.
"General Chesterfield intends to leave the base," the pinched voice said. "It is my understanding that he wishes to conduct a counteroffensive from a remote location. Please let him know-" The voice paused. "Never mind. He has just arrived at the motor pool."
The line went dead.
Roote quickly climbed to his feet, replacing the receiver. Thanks to the caller, he now knew where he would find Chesterfield. And where he would kill him.
Leaving the body of the lieutenant to mind the office, Roote slipped back out through the flap of plastic.
REMO'S JEEP SKIDDED to a stop at the nearest soldier. There were many more massing at the periphery of the first base outbuildings.
"What's going on?" Remo demanded.
"We're getting our lunch handed to us, that's what," the young man complained. "Dead and wounded everywhere. Big offensive starting in a couple of minutes."
Remo glanced quickly at Chiun. The Master of Sinanju's mouth was stretched into a concerned frown.
As he looked back at the soldier, Remo's expression mirrored that of his teacher.
"Where's Roote?" he asked.
The soldier snickered at the name. He was obviously an acquaintance of the private. "He was spotted near HQ a couple of minutes ago."
Remo spun to Arthur Ford. "Get out," he ordered.