As the electronic entrance door slid open before him, Beta reminded himself that the government secreted cameras in the motion sensors in order to keep videotaped records of every American citizen. Beta RAM covered his face with both hands and ducked his head away from the black sensor box as re stepped into the air-conditioned store.
THEY HAD BURNED UP the highway between Truth or Consequences and Las Cruces, twice avoiding the flashing lights of state police cruisers by sheer reckless driving.
Within the city limits, Remo did his best to stay within the posted speed limits.
As they drove down one traffic-filled street, the Master of Sinanju glanced at his pupil.
"Your driving on the highway was more reckless than usual," he commented.
As Remo steered the rented car he had borrowed from Smith through the thick traffic, he shot a look at Chiun.
"I wouldn't talk if I were you," Remo said. "I've been strapped in when you were behind the wheel. It's like being in a turbo-charged bumper car."
"Allow me to refresh your memory, O Forgetful Caster of Aspersions. I am thinking of a certain truck you tipped over on me in Germany," the Master of Sinanju said dryly.
"Water under the bridge," Remo said. "And besides, I apologized for that about a billion times."
"And forgiving soul that I am, I considered accepting some of them," Chiun replied. "Even though you nearly killed me, we were transporting my gold-thus your carelessness in haste was almost excusable. However, there is no treasure in this vehicle other than me. Therefore there is no need to risk my precious life."
"Have you been paying attention the last couple of days?" Remo asked. "That guy tried to fry my cullions. I want to settle his hash. It's as simple as that."
"If by simple you mean simple-minded, I agree," Chiun said.
"Are these insults strictly for pleasure, or is there a point behind all this?"
Chiun nodded somberly. "You are behaving rashly. You are rushing into a conflict without any concern for the possible outcome."
Remo was genuinely surprised. "You think I can't beat this asswipe?" he asked.
"If he were an ordinary foe, I would say yes, my son. Without hesitation. But neither you nor Smith believe this man to be ordinary."
"He isn't," Remo insisted.
"This have I conceded," Chiun agreed. "So why do you hasten to meet him again? Give yourself time to heal. Knowledge is our ally when confronted with the unknown. While you grow strong, Smith will learn more of this creature. When the time comes we will face it together, you and I."
"Nope. Roote is a killer, Little Father. He was a maniac before they stitched all that hardware into him. Thanks to Chesterfield, he's a hell of a lot more dangerous. He has to be stopped now. Case closed."
Remo hunkered down behind the steering wheel, his face pulled into hard lines.
"You are still not one hundred percent," Chiun pointed out after a moment's silence.
"I'm fit as a fiddle," Remo said dismissively. "You are strong, Remo, but you are not invincible."
"I'm not woman, either," Remo interjected, his tone deeply sarcastic.
"What is that supposed to mean? Of course you are not," Chiun spit. "And since you insist on being pigheaded, when we find this villain, l will deal with him."
"What?" Remo asked. "No way. Roote is mine."
"You are not well enough to face him again."
"I told you, I'm fine."
They were at a red light. He slowed to a stop behind a line of cars.
"In another day you may be fine. In another week perhaps you will have healed completely. But at present your body is still not right."
"Absolutely not, Chiun. When we find Roote, I'm the one who gets to punch his ticket."
Chiun's voice took on a cold edge. "Are you forgetting who is Reigning Master of Sinanju?" Remo closed his eyes. A honking horn behind him told him that the light had turned green. Opening his eyes, he started forward once more.
"No," Remo muttered morosely.
"Who is?"
Remo snapped one hand against the steering wheel. "You, okay? Geez, Chiun. Fine. If you want Roote, you've got him. He's yours. Take him with my blessing. Sheesh!"
In the passenger's seat of the rental car, Chiun's wrinkled face split into a broad smile.
"I now see why so many people join the militia in this nation, even though they are not required to do so," the Master of Sinanju said.
"Why?" Remo asked sullenly.
There was a twinkle in the old man's eye. "It is fun to pull rank."
TEN MINUTES LATER, they were in the parking lot of the House Warehouse superstore.
Remo steered the rented car up and down the lanes, looking for a parking space. He found one near a battered red truck that looked as if it were being held together by rust and a thick film of desert dust.
As he got out of the car, Remo noticed an emblem on the side of the truck door. The grime was so thick that the logo was difficult to read.
He dragged one hand across the door. The cleared logo depicted a bluish planet Earth. Above it hovered something that looked like a dinner plate with running lights. Below the planet a semicircle of letters spelled out Camp Earth.
"I think we've hit pay dirt," Remo called to Chiun. He dusted the grime off his hands as the old Korean came around to the truck.
Frowning, the Master of Sinanju inspected the Camp Earth logo. "And I think Americans have far too much idle time," he pronounced contemptuously.
Remo leaned against the side of his car. "We can discuss the stagnation of American culture while we wait for them to beam out," he said with a tight smile.
BETA RAM HOPED that Salvion's ark would land before his credit-card bill came due.
The head of Camp Earth emerged from the big exit doors of House Warehouse dragging a metal dolly filled with boxes of batteries. A store clerk followed, pushing another cart that was equally full.
Sweating in the late-afternoon heat, they hauled both wobbly carts over to the rear of Beta RAM's truck.
After Beta had dropped the tailgate, the clerk helped him load the batteries into the back.