He didn't have a chance to finish. The gun was quickly and expertly drawn from the holster. The policeman leveled it at Remo's chest. "I vill not ask again."
"Why do they all sound like Major Hochstetter the minute they get a gun in their hands?" Remo mumbled to Chiun.
"Do not let him see the Hoard, Remo," Chiun insisted.
There had been cars zipping past the busy roadway the entire time they had been stopped. Remo noted the speeding vehicles with tight concern. "I don't have a choice," he said to the Master of Sinanju. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked at Chiun. Reluctantly, Chiun nodded.
"Das is correct," the cop said firmly.
As Chiun stepped back, Remo turned away from the police officer. He found the key to the rear door in his pocket and unlocked the padlock. Turning the latch, he lifted the rolling door several feet from the rear platform.
"Inside," the cop insisted. "Bose of you."
Remo and Chiun glanced at one another. They climbed up from the wet roadway and into the damp, murky interior of the truck. The police officer came in behind them, gun still aimed at the two men. The muted Doppler sound of cars racing by hummed through the shadowy metal walls of the truck. Water splashed from the highway onto the sides of the road.
When the officer caught sight of the open crates of gold and gems packed inside the cold truck, his mouth dropped open. Even though it was only a fraction of the larger amount of the Nibelungen Hoard, it was still a huge amount of treasure. He stared, shocked, at the stacks of ancient wealth.
"I am confiscating all of dis," he announced, voice numb. He had to concentrate to keep the gun aimed at his two prisoners. He wanted more than anything to ram his black-gloved hands into the nearest crate of gold coins.
"Of course you are," Remo said indifferently. "What I'd like to know is where did you hear about this?"
"Hmm?" the cop asked, glancing up. "Oh. My brusser."
Remo looked at the man's chest. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.
"My brusser told me," the cop repeated. He had turned away from Remo once more and was staring, awestruck, at the glittering gold.
Remo was dumbfounded. "You wear ladies' underwear, and it talks to you?" he asked, incredulous.
"Not brassiere, imbecile," Chiun interjected, in a hissing whisper. The Master of Sinanju turned to the policeman. "Can I assume that your brother is the owner of the storehouse where my treasure was secreted?"
"Ja," the cop said. "He vas upset dat you put your own locks on the place. I helped him to set up a surveillance system outside the sheds you had rented. In dis vay ve vere able to see vat you had stored there vile it vas being loaded onto the truck. However, it did not look like so much." He shook his head in awe.
"Where is your brother now?" Remo asked.
"Vaiting for us," the cop said. "Somevere safe."
"Does anyone else know about this?" Remo asked.
The cop looked up, abruptly annoyed. "Dat is irrelevant. Ve vill go now," he said.
The Master of Sinanju was growing impatient. "Dispatch this one, Remo," he said.
"We've got to find out if anyone else knows," Remo insisted.
"No one knows but this imbecile Hun and his untrustworthy sibling. Make haste."
"You. Qviet," the officer said to Chiun. He pointed his gun at the Master of Sinanju.
"Buddy, wait-" Remo began. Too late.
The gun had been the last straw. In the instant the barrel had been aimed at his frail chest, Chiun's fingers flew from the confines of his kimono sleeves. Fingernails like deadly talons and as sharp and strong as titanium knife blades swept around to the officer's neck. The first rush of nails took out half the man's throat. Blood erupted in a gushing font onto the nearest crate of gold.
As he felt the shock of raking pain in his neck, the officer tried to shoot. Only then did he realize that his gun was no longer there. Nor, it seemed, was the hand that held it.
Chiun's other hand had dropped down onto the man's wrist, severing the policeman's fist just below the cuff of his blue uniform. The impulse to squeeze the gun that was no longer there caused spurts of blood to pump from the raw wrist stump. In another moment, the officer joined his hand and gun on the floor of the truck, a tiny bubble of crimson at the center of his forehead indicating where Chiun's final blow had been struck.
The Master of Sinanju stepped away from the body as it fell to the damp floor.
"Couldn't you have waited another second?" Remo griped. "We don't know how many more like him are out there."
"They are irrelevant. My gold is all that matters." He turned to go. "See to it that that thing does not bleed on my treasure," Chiun added. Kimono skirts billowed as he hopped down from the truck.
Muttering, Remo rolled the body away from the crates.
Moments later, with the truck's rear door sealed once more, Remo joined Chiun in the cab.
"What did you do with the brigand's vehicle?" the Master of Sinanju asked.
"What did you expect me to do, eat it?" Remo asked. "I shut off the lights and locked it up."
"It will be noticed," Chiun said, concerned.
"Well, duh," Remo said.
Chiun rapped his knuckles urgently on the dashboard. "Hurry, Remo!" he insisted. "Make haste to Berlin lest some other highwayman attempts to take that which is rightfully mine!"
"Sure. Lock the barn door after the horse is at the glue factory," Remo grumbled.
Leaving the persistent light mist to accumulate on the parked police car, Remo pulled the truck back into traffic.
Berlin was still some sixty miles away.
Chapter 3
He had awakened more than two hours before.
The shock of his being kidnapped by Loonies had worn off the second time around, so when Mike Princippi opened his eye only to see a fat pale toe peeking from the end of a cheap sandal two inches from his face, he had merely blinked at the digit. The toe wiggled back.
Princippi pushed his cheek from the floor of the van. The imprint of a metal truck seam lined his grayish skin.
Kneeling, the former governor eyed his captors.
They looked back at him with benign-almost deranged-smiles. The men were jostled on their plain seats as the van continued to speed down the unseen road to a destination known only to the Loonies.
Princippi cleared his throat. "What-?" The words caught for a moment. He coughed again, trying to work up his courage. "What do you want from me?" he asked.