Chiun twirled from the collapsed corrugated tin.
The steady pop-pop of automatic-weapons fire had dwindled rapidly since its start mere moments before. The Master of Sinanju spun through the last four firing Camp Earthers.
Toes lashed out; hands were flung in seemingly wild gestures. Fingers clasping guns were shattered to jelly. Blood erupted from throats and chests. The gunmen fell to the dirt.
Chiun wheeled, narrowed eyes searching. He found Beta RAM cowering behind a pile of crates that the residents of Camp Earth had been breaking up for firewood.
Whirling over to the wooden boxes, Chiun brought his hands down in furious slashing movements. The wood shattered to kindling beneath his vengeful fists.
With one hand, Chiun lifted Beta into the air. "Where is the one called Roote?" the Master of Sinanju demanded hotly.
Beta extended a single, shaking hand. He was like a palsy victim. "There," he gasped, pointing to the far end of the encampment.
With a look of disgust on his wrinkled parchment features, Chiun flung Beta into the ruins of one of the Camp Earth shacks. Spinning on his heel, he marched from the scene of carnage, toward Roote's shack.
Even as Chiun was storming across the camp, Beta was pulling himself to his feet.
He didn't give Chiun's back a second glance. Heart thudding madly, Beta RAM ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Chapter 28
Chiun's hooded eyes were knots of vellum mistrust as he watched the familiar figure running toward him.
Arthur Ford ran, stumbling, across the camp, away from the sand-covered promontory on which Elizu Roote's tin shack rested. Eyes wild, he flung himself desperately at the Master of Sinanju. Chiun grabbed the ufologist by the shoulders, holding him at an annoyed distance.
"You've got to save us!" Ford begged. "He's crazy!"
"You aided his escape," Chiun said levelly.
"That's because I didn't know what he was," Ford pleaded desperately. "You've got to believe me. He's dangerous. He has to be stopped."
Chiun released the UFO enthusiast. "This creature. It lurks within?" the old Korean asked.
Ford nodded. "He knows you're here, but he's weak. I don't think he has much power left." Eyes directed at the shack, the Master of Sinanju nodded crisply. He sensed both truth and deception coming from Ford. Without another word, he turned and crossed the small space to Roote's hut. Behind him a tiny smile broke out across Ford's face as Chiun ducked through the metal door. There was a moment of frightening silence.
All at once, a massive thumping noise erupted from the tin shed. And as Ford watched with nervous glee, the entire shack was engulfed in a pulse of electric blue.
HE WAS TOO SLOW!
Halfway up the hill, Remo watched in horror as the massive surge of electrical energy coursed around the exterior of the tiny metal hut. The hum that permeated the night air was that of a million insects' fluttering wings in one horrible instant.
Remo had only seen Chiun at the last moment. Too late to even shout a warning as the old Korean ducked inside the shed.
Now, as he watched the arcs of high voltage leap from one side of the frame to the other at the mouth of the shack, the dreadful truth could not be denied.
Roote was far more powerful than he had been during his encounter with Remo. There was no way Chiun could have survived such a massive burst of electricity.
It was Remo's fault.
This did Remo lament as he scurried the rest of the way down the hill, as he raced over to the shack.
His fault.
If he had been able to stop Roote the first time... If he had been able to convince Chiun of the seriousness of Roote's abilities...
If, if, if...
At the open door, he couldn't see through the blinding arcs of bluish electrical energy. It didn't matter. His senses already told him the awful truth. There were no life signs inside.
Chiun was dead.
All of the weakness he had been feeling since his original encounter with the killer drained away. Decades of exacting Sinanju training reasserted itself in one glorious, horrible instant. His heart rate quickened, then leveled.
A world of sensation exploded like a supernova out around the perfectly attuned body of Remo Williams.
Breathing the night air deeply, Remo broadened the focus of his senses to encompass the entire area around the bluff.
He found Roote.
The soldier was behind the shed. Directing his energy toward the rear wall. Frying whoever was hapless enough to step inside the deadly trap.
Remo channeled all of the swirling emotions he was feeling into a single, violent pit of white-hot rage.
Centering himself, he stepped around the side of the shack.
Elizu Roote was leaning casually against a boulder that jutted out of the outcropping of rock above the Rio Grande.
The killer seemed almost bored as he funneled streams of directed electrical energy into the rear of the shack.
A look of great surprise spread across Roote's pale features as Remo stepped around the building. The expression changed to one of satisfaction. He instantly cut the power flowing from his fingertips.
"Old geezer should be barbecued by now, what do you think?" he drawled happily. A smile creased his face.
"I think you're dead," Remo replied coldly. He walked slowly toward the killer.
"Now hold on there, fella," Roote said. "Ain't you forgetting somethin'? I whipped your ass last time."
As a reminder, he held up his hands. Sparks crackled between his metal-tipped fingers.
"You're nothing but a maniac crossbred with a microwave," Remo said. "I'm pulling your plug." The smile faded from Roote's face. He obviously didn't consider Remo a threat. He stood his ground as Remo strode ever closer to him.
"Are you working for Chesterfield?" the private demanded. "'Cause he's the real maniac. He knew what I was. But he went ahead and made me like this anyway."
"He's next."
Roote nodded. "Yep, I reckon he is. But I'll be the one gettin' him."