All at once, Remo released him. The relief was blessed, instantaneous. He gulped in a deep gust of air.
"There," Remo said, as if finishing up. "Now, as long as you can keep the rest of your ducks in a row, we won't have any more problems."
"No problems," Kim Jong Il insisted, rubbing his ear. "None at all."
"Right," Remo said levelly.
He looked down at the heads one last time. Who had shipped them here? The bogus New York police? The Loonies? Whoever it was, Remo was pretty sure whose orders they had been following. He'd have a word or two with the Reverend Sun as soon as he returned to the States. But first, he had another duty to attend to.
Remo shoved the drawer shut. "By the way, I hijacked a South Korean plane in England," Remo said.
"I heard," Kim Jong Il replied, still feeling behind his ear. Surprisingly, there was no blood. "It is being detained at the airport."
"Let it leave unharmed," Remo instructed.
"It'll be as you wish," Kim Jong Il agreed.
Remo looked around, trying to think if there was anything else he had to do. "I guess that's it," he said with a satisfied nod. "Unless you can think of anything."
"No," the premier said, shaking his head desperately. He tried to force a smile. "Not that I can think of," he added, with hollow joviality.
Remo smiled back. Sincerely. "Great," he said. "That's settled. I guess we're through."
They began walking to the morgue door. Remo could only think of Smith and the doubts the CURE director had had about sending him to the Koreas alone. His smile broadened.
"So I'm not a diplomat, huh?" he asked the premier.
"No, you are not," Rim Kun Soe's weak voice called from the outer room.
Chapter 23
The woman looked as if she had cornered the silicone market in her chest. Though she jumped energetically, there was very little jiggle as she gushed her enthusiasm for her latest project.
"I don't, like, do endorsements," she babbled happily. "But when my agent called me about this one I, like, went totally and completely wild for the idea."
"Totally," agreed the young man next to her. He looked as if he spent eighteen hours a day at the gym and another fifteen at the dentist.
The pair were soap-opera actors who had been linked romantically in real life. Their affair had been the product of months of negotiations between their respective people. Neither his boyfriend nor her girlfriend was terribly happy with the business arrangement.
"I was just wondering," she said. "I was up for a movie part the other day. I think I did really, really good and all. Do you think they'll call back?"
The Reverend Man Hyung Sun looked blandly at the woman. "No," he said.
"No?" she asked, crestfallen. "Oh." Though she was deeply disappointed, neither she nor her costar made a move to leave.
Chiun was standing at Sun's elbow near the studio door. "Do you wish me to dispose of these empty-headed ones, O Holy Seer?" the Master of Sinanju offered in a loud whisper.
He did not have to.
"Okay, we're done here," Dan Bergdorf said, sweeping in from the set. The executive producer shepherded the pair of soap-opera actors away from his featured performer.
The two of them had been hired by Bergdorf for the latest Sunnie fortune-teller commercial. Soap stars had instant face recognition from the types of people who called psychic lines. These two were the flavor of the month.
"You're going to get a lot of callers telling you they phoned in because of Cassandra and Cleft," Bergdorf warned as he came back over to Sun, using the actors' TV names.
Roseflower was walking briskly behind him.
"As long as they call," Sun replied flatly. "We go now," he said to the Master of Sinanju.
Chiun allowed the cult leader's assistant to guide them out to the limousine. He got in the back seat with Sun while Roseflower climbed in behind the wheel. They were out of the Channel 8 parking lot and on the highway back to New York in a matter of minutes.
They had driven in silence for almost twenty minutes before the Master of Sinanju spoke. "Something puzzles me, Great Mystic," Chiun said.
"A question is the first step to knowledge," Sun intoned seriously.
Chiun resisted the urge to accuse the Sunnie leader of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie. After all, he was the herald of pyon ha-da.
"Why must you do these programs?" Chiun asked. "They are demeaning. Beneath one as holy as you."
"You honor me with your words," Sun said. "But know you this," he continued, raising an instructive finger, "even a god must pay the rent."
And at these words, Chiun grew silent. He remained mutely troubled for the entire journey back to the East Hampton, Long Island, estate of Sun.
When they arrived, they found Michael Princippi's ratty old car already parked near the closed garage bays. Roseflower parked the limousine away from the main house.
Chiun and Sun walked together up the gravel pathway to the mansion.
"There are those who would do me harm," Sun said as they climbed the steps.
"They must get through me first, Holy Seer," Chiun said.
"I am pleased you say that," Sun replied. He paused, resting his hand on the door handle. "Such a one is in my home at this very moment. I have foreseen it. As have you, though to a lesser and mere mortal degree."
Chiun's eyes strayed to the battered Volkswagen rusting in the driveway.
"The one called Prince," he said.
Sun nodded. "I fear my life is in danger. You are my only salvation. Will you remove the evil from before me?"
"I live to serve, Holy One," Chiun said, bowing.
Sun returned the gesture, though with regal restraint.
"Then it shall be."
Smiling, Man Hyung Sun pushed the door open.