"Trust in the father of your child, for he is of Sinanju."
Chapter 28
Jilda of Lakluun caught up with Remo. "Tell me," she said.
"Quiet," snapped Remo as they approached the village proper. "He can hear us."
Jilda grabbed Remo by the arm. The muscle felt like a warm stone. "I care not about who can hear," she said. "Are you so cold that you do not care about your own child?"
Remo took Jilda by the shoulders. He put his face close to hers. "The pterodactyls weren't real," he whispered. "I grabbed the tail and ended up with air. There was nothing there."
"I saw my child fall into the sea."
"You saw what someone wanted you to see. Someone who is close enough to influence our minds and manipulate the images we all see. And if he's who I think he is, we've got our work cut out for us."
"You know who it is?"
"I have an idea," Remo said, looking toward Chiun, who stood with his hands resolutely folded in his kimono sleeves. Chiun nodded.
"For once, my son has reached a truth before me," he said proudly. And he bowed in Remo's direction.
"Save the grease," Remo said sharply. "We have things to settle between us, you and I."
"Tell me one thing," Jilda said anxiously. "Is my daughter dead or alive?"
"I don't know," Remo admitted. "But forget what we saw at the beach. That wasn't Freya. An illusion can't lift a flesh-and-blood child and carry her out to sea."
"Illusion?" said Jilda. "You mean it is-"
"The Dutchman," said Remo. "There's no other explanation. He knew how to unlock the treasure house. Probably learned that from Nuihc, the bastard. He got into Chiun's scrolls, learned about CURE, and used that information to make as much trouble for us as possible. Now he's followed us back to Sinanju to finish the job."
"I remember him from the Master's Trial," said Jilda. "He is as powerful as you in Sinanju, and his evil mind can make us see any witchery he cares to conjure."
"He's the reason you fled from me in the first place," Remo said bitterly. "It's because of him you and I couldn't be together. And now he's killed Mah-Li. He's going to pay for that."
"Remember, Remo," Chiun interjected. "He is like you, a white who is trained in Sinanju. But he is also the Other, the yin to your yang."
"And I can't kill him, because if he dies, I die," Remo said grimly. "I haven't forgotten that. But I'll tell you this, Chiun. I may not kill him, but I'm going to bring him right to the damned edge. When I'm done with him, he's never going to kill anyone again. Ever." Remo headed back toward the village.
A faraway-sounding voice stopped him. "Remo."
Remo's sensitive hearing fixed on the voice. It was Mah-Li's voice, light and silvery. But the line of rocks from which the voice came was empty.
"Remo." It was her voice again.
Remo looked around, and saw her. She was standing beside the house that Remo had started to build a year ago. She wore her high-waisted scarlet bridal costume and she smiled at him warmly, gesturing to the open door of the unfinished house.
"Come, Remo. Come, it is your wedding night. Don't you want me, Remo?" The voice was Mah-Li's, but the tone mocked him.
"You son of a bitch," said Remo.
The Master of Sinanju tried to stop his pupil, but Remo Williams moved too rapidly. Chiun's fingers brushed Remo's bare arm impotently.
"He is baiting you, Remo," Chiun called. "Do not forget your training. No anger. Anger gives him the edge." Then the music started, the dissonant music that came from the diseased mind of Jeremiah Purcell, who had become known as the Dutchman during his years of solitude on the island of Saint Martin after the death of his trainer, Chiun's evil nephew, Nuihc. The air filled with colors and Remo found himself caught in a psychedelic tunnel of light. There was no road, no sky, and no house with the Dutchman standing there invitingly. It was all bands and swirls of colored light. Remo kept running anyway, but he was stumbling through a world that did not exist except in his own mind. His foot struck something hard-a rock or a tree root-and he went sliding on his chest, dirt spraying into his open mouth.
Remo shut his eyes. At the end of his slide he got to his feet, spitting to clear his mouth. But even with his eyes closed he saw the colors and heard the music.
"Eating dirt on the wedding night," said the voice that sounded like Mah-Li. "Is that a new Sinanju custom?"
"You can't hide behind your illusions forever," Remo warned.
Abruptly the colors spun into a coalescing dot and exploded like fireworks. The last sparks faded and Remo could see again. Chiun and Jilda were standing not far from him, their eyes blinking stupidly. They, too, had been made to see the colors.
"I am not afraid to face you." The voice was that of Adonis. He walked calmly toward Remo, a smug smile on his wide tanned face.
"Remo. Beware," warned Chiun.
"But you are afraid of me." And suddenly he was a ninja in black costume with one round blue eye and one slanted black eye.
"Not me," said Remo.
"If you kill me, you die," crowed the Dutchman, reverting to his natural form. His blond hair swished like a lion's mane.
"He is baiting you," said Chiun.
"So what?" barked Remo, setting himself. "If he kills me, he dies too. It goes both ways-doesn't it, Jeremiah?"
"Do you not see?" Chiun said. "Look at his eyes. They are full of madness. He wants to die. He has nothing to lose. "
The Dutchman stopped in his tracks and set his fists on his hips. A sea breeze made his purple fighting costume flap against his arms and legs. He opened his mouth and a laugh rattled out as if it were produced by a mechanism keyed to the throwing-back of his head. It was not a human sound.
From the yellow sash girding his waist he plucked a pair of rimless glasses and tossed them at Remo's feet.
Remo looked down. They were Smith's glasses.
"I have killed your intended bride, your daughter, and your former employer. Take your revenge now, if you dare. "
"I dare," said Remo, leaping into the air. He executed a magnificent Heron Drop, rising over thirty feet into the air. At the apex of his leap, he dropped sharply toward the lifted face of the Dutchman. But the Dutchman stood his ground, prepared to receive a death kick in the face. And Remo knew, too late, that Chiun was right. The Dutchman wanted to die. But at the last possible moment the Dutchman shot out a hand and caught Remo's right ankle as it came down. Spinning like a discus thrower, he redirected the energy of Remo's descent into a wide arc. He let go. Remo flew in a straight line, smashing against the side of his unfinished house. He landed in a tangle of splintered bamboo and teak.
The Dutchman's voice filtered into his mind. "Come, Remo. We have all night to die. Perhaps I will kill your Viking dyke of a lover before I extinguish your life."
Remo jumped to his feet. He came out the door like a cannonball, hitting the door with his palm. The door flew ahead of him and bounced along on its corners like a square wheel.
The Dutchman stood laughing. Behind him Jilda lifted the dagger from her leather belt. She crept up behind him. Remo caught the bouncing door and flipped it like a Frisbee. It sailed high, then sank like a pitcher's fastball. Remo hoped it would distract him just long enough.
The Dutchman watched the door lift and then plunge in his direction. It would be easy to avoid. Had Remo learned nothing in the years since they had last clashed?