"No," Roseflower insisted, beaming. "It was told to me by His Super Oneness, the Reverend Sun."
"Crapola," Remo said. "He doesn't know anything his accountant doesn't tell him."
"Not true. He can see the future," Roseflower insisted.
"That old fraud couldn't see the past with a crystal ball, a Ouija board, a bucket of tea leaves and a mile-high stack of past-dated issues of that newspaper of his," Remo said, annoyance registering in his voice.
"Believe as you wish." Roseflower shrugged.
"Good. I believe he's a flimflam artist," Remo said.
"That is your prerogative," said the Sunnie. "But know that you and the old one are destined for much more with the Sun Source. You have formed a grand karmic link with His Greatness."
"Yeah? Well I'm about to break that link," Remo muttered.
Sidestepping Roseflower, Remo strode purposefully toward the huge curving staircase in the mansion's main foyer.
THE GLASS-ENCLOSED balcony looked out over the rolling rear lawns of the East Hampton estate.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the Master of Sinanju basked in the warmth of late-morning sunlight flowing in through the many panes before him. Rectangles of bright yellow stretched out into the bedroom behind him.
Swarms of Sunnies worked in the brisk winter air on the back lawn. Some raked at the brown grass. Others trimmed shoots from topiary shrubs, fashioned into animal shapes. Farther away, still more were operating a mechanical device used to aerate the soil.
Chiun watched them all, yet did not really see them.
The old Korean was deep in thought.
He had had several meetings with the Reverend Sun in the past forty-eight hours. Each one left him more puzzled.
Like Chiun, Sun had been born in Korea but had spent many years in America. He confided to the Master of Sinanju that he shared Chiun's longing to return to the land of his birth. In these things, they were alike. But the similarities soon ended.
Sun's religion was somewhat Christian-at least in its proclamations. At first, Chiun had been horrified to learn this. Sun had explained that he was a Presbyterian minister who had fallen away from the organized church.
The Master of Sinanju had no idea how he would explain this to Remo. The product of a nuncontrolled orphanage, the boy had terrible Christian leanings already. His defense of the carpenter and his sect was shameful. He reveled in so-called worthy traits such as honesty and generosity. His pro-Christian leanings were even evident in his defense of Charlemagne. In short, Remo was a great disappointment when it came to his papal-centric worldview. It would only make matters worse when he found out that the Reverend Sun held views somewhat similar to his own.
Chiun's relief was great, therefore, when he learned that Sun had largely renounced his earlier beliefs upon founding the Grand Unification Church. In fact, the new religion had little in common with the Protestant Christian church or its pontiff-tangled roots. But it would still be a tricky matter to get around with Remo.
Chiun was sitting on his balcony, half watching the Sunnie workmen and trying to find a way to properly sugarcoat Sun's early Christianity when he heard the familiar confident glide of Remo's feet on the hallway carpet.
Chiun had not come up with a solution to his vexing problem. His only hope was that it would not come up.
A moment later, a knock came on the door.
"Enter," Chiun called.
The big door pushed open. "Geez Louise, it stinks in here," Remo complained the moment he stepped into the room. As he walked across the bedroom, his features were crumpled in lines of disgust.
"Do not look at me," Chiun said dully.
Remo sank down on the balcony floor next to the Master of Sinanju. "It's that after-shave of Sun's," Remo griped. "The whole upstairs reeks. I take it by the stench in here he's been to see you?"
Chiun nodded. He continued to look out at the robed men scattered around the lawn.
"Did he thank you for saving his fanny yet?"
"Every breath the Holy One draws is thanks enough," the Master of Sinanju replied.
"He didn't thank me, either," Remo said dryly. "Which is just as well, if you ask me. I couldn't get within ten feet of him with all that foo-foo juice he splashes on."
"Do not be impertinent with Reverend Sun," Chiun warned ominously. "His oracular wisdom is vast. Great are the things he presages."
"Yeah, I bet he sees a big fat Swiss bank account in his future," Remo muttered contemptuously.
"Cannot a holy man be concerned with keeping a roof over his head and food in his belly?" Chiun asked.
"Have you looked around this joint? It's more than just a roof-it's a frigging palace. And as far as food goes, Reverend Sun doesn't look like he's missing too many meals."
"Ours is not to question the Seer."
"Baloney," Remo said. "And what's the story with this 'reverend' crap? Isn't that a Christian term?"
Chiun's eyes opened wider. "It is a Latin term," he said evasively. "Adopted by clergy who debase its true meaning. Tell me," Chiun added, steering the subject away from Christianity, "do you not wish to know why we are here?"
"We're not. At least I'm not much longer."
"That is up to you," Chiun sniffed. "But you must surely be curious to know what inspired me to seek out Sun."
"You didn't talk on the trip down to New York." Remo shrugged. "I assumed you still didn't want to talk about it."
"I did not," Chiun admitted. "However, you have forced it out of me." The Master of Sinanju leaned forward. When he spoke, he pitched his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "It is pyon hada," he intoned.
Chiun leaned back, smiling broadly.
"Sun said that on TV and at the rally," Remo said, nodding. "I don't know those words."
"You would not," Chiun admitted. "It has no meaning to the lesser races. Whites and blacks, as well as many Asians, are unaware of it. You are aware, Remo, of the true story of creation?"
"You mean from Genesis? Adam and Eve and the Garden?"
Chiun waved a disgusted hand. "Do not annoy me with fairy stories," he complained. "I speak of the story of the true Creator." He settled into an instructive pose. "Before the beginning of time, the one who made man formed a likeness of himself from mud and baked it in his celestial oven. Of course, being Creator, he had much on his mind. When he returned, he found that he had left his creation to bake too long. 'Woe to me,' he lamented. 'I have charred this work of my genius.' This, Remo, is how the blacks came to be."
Remo had heard this story before. In his earliest days of training, Chiun used to recount many of his favorite racist stories. Mostly to instruct Remo on how inferior he was to Chiun. However, he could not remember the Master of Sinanju ever relating this story with such passion.
"Wait a minute," Remo broke in. "Didn't you tell me a while back that this was crap? What about Tangun?"
"Tangun established the first Chosun dynasty of Korea," Chiun said impatiently. "He was not the first man. Listen." He continued with his story. "The Creator determined not to repeat his initial error. Into the oven he placed a second image of himself. But in his desire not to create another disaster, he made an even worse mistake than before. This creation he undercooked. 'How horrible this day is!' he cried. 'For in my haste I have created a white man!'