"The second is not nearly as good, I can tell you, Remo."
"He said you and I have the cleanest strokes in the history of Sinanju."
"He said that?"
"Yeah. I think I told you before. He said we have the best strokes. Identical, he said. Said he could be looking at you when he saw me deliver a blow."
"I teach well," said Chiun.
"Not everyone can learn," said Remo. He did not mention Wang had told him that Chiun had a son who had died.
"The teacher is first."
"To pour water into a glass, one needs the glass, even though the water is first. Otherwise it splashes in uselessness," said Remo.
"Where did you learn to talk like that?"
"Who do you think I've been palling around with for the last twenty years?"
"I don't like it."
"Neither did I."
"You sound like a fortune cookie," said Chiun. He folded his hands within his black kimono, and Remo stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Wang said something so silly I don't know if I should repeat it," said Remo.
"Wang never says anything silly," said Chiun.
"He said we were really just alike under it all. That our differences were illusions."
"The Great Wang never said anything silly. Until now."
"Absurd," said Remo.
"I am ashamed that you were the first one he showed his great flaw to."
"What great flaw?"
"He cannot judge people as well as we thought," said Chiun.
"He certainly does know when someone is ready to be a great Master," said Remo. "I mean, he appears."
"He can judge quality, true. I may be the only Master to be at the great level whose student was also at that level. Two for me. That is a record."
"But not enough to be called the Great Chiun. That must be done by succeeding generations in the histories."
"You still have to learn about negotiations. I hope in your passage you have learned to appreciate that."
"He called us dullards. Said we're too serious. Me about America. You about the House of Sinanju."
"Wang was fat," said Chiun.
"I thought so too," said Remo.
"Lacked control of his eating," said Chiun.
"I thought we had no fat on our bodies," said Remo.
"We don't," said Chiun.
"He does," said Remo.
"We're not alike at all," said Chiun.
"Not at all," said Remo, and both of them could not remember a time when they had agreed on something so thoroughly, which was another proof they were not alike. And for a second time they agreed thoroughly.
Anna Chutesov saw him on the high hill. She wished Remo were with her, because he had a way of moving through defenses that was astounding. She thought she might be stopped, but ironically at a headquarters position itself there was more confusion than at some outpost where people might fire.
Rabinowitz had staff aides, of course, and when she said what she wanted, she made a crucial mistake, one that anyone who ever tried to deal with an institution or corporation would have known was an error.
One she should have known. But she had no choice. She had to speak to the aide.
And as in all organizations, the aide was more difficult to deal with than the leader.
"I have come to surrender to Mr. Rabinowitz and offer him anything he wants," said Anna.
"Who are you?"
"I represent Russia in this situation."
"Then how come you're not with the prisoners?" said the aide.
"Because I never surrendered. I am here to speak with Mr. Rabinowitz," she said, hoping he saw Rabinowitz as Rabinowitz and not some love-authority figure from his past.
"You haven't surrendered to anyone yet, right?" said the aide, a young captain.
"That's right."
"Then you're my prisoner," he said.
As Anna passed Remo in a truck crowded with Russian missile technicians, she waved. Remo was on board with hardly a leap, separating her from the men and helping her off the truck.
"I'll have to take you up there myself," he said.
"No. I don't want you near him. You're the world's last chance, Remo. I'll go with Chiun."