"And my trunks?" Chiun asked the driver.
"They will follow us by truck when it arrives," Oscar said.
Chiun nodded. "It will be on your head if they do not," he said.
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The heavy car moved off slowly and inexorably, like a rubber ball starting down a gently sloped hill. Before long, it was humming along the absolutely level road at 90 miles an hour.
"Where are we going?" Remo asked, turning toward the back seat.
'To see the sheik."
"Which one?"
"Sheik Abdul Hamid Fareem," Reva said, which didn't really tell Remo mucL All their names sounded alike, and they all looked alike, and in a band they attacked America as bloodthirsty imperialists while cutting the hands off anybody who stole a loaf of bread because he didn't have the good fortune to own an oil well.
"I can't wait," Remo said.
"That is the first intelligent thing you have said since we left that island of white wax," Chiun said.
"Why?"
"Because the Hamidi family have been royalty in this part of the world for centuries. Noble, enlightened, loved-by-all royalty."
"That means they hired one of your ancestors and paid their bill," Remo said.
"That means they are truly noble, Remo. You would not understand it." He pointed out the right window into the distance, and Remo turned to see what he was pointing out.
"There is their capital city of Nehmad," Chiun said. "Right where the scrolls of history said it would be." He closed his eyes and recited from memory. "A marvelous clean city of towered parapets and minarets, with streets of tile and wall paintings encrusted with precious stones."
"There's no minarets or parapets" said Remo, who assumed they meant some kind of pointed things on buildings. "Look at that city. It's a bunch of big, ugly, flat apartment buildings."
"You can turn everything into dross," Chiun sniffed. 131
"We'll see when we get there just how wonderful these Hareemis are," Remo said.
"Hamidi," Chiun said.
"We're not going to the city," Reva said.
"Why not?"
"The sheik Abdul Hamid Fareem lives in the desert."
"Why?" Remo asked.
"I read about him," she said. "He thinks Arabs were not meant to live in cities, that cities weaken the blood."
"See, Remo," said Chiun. "That is respect for tradition."
"That is stupid," said Remo. "Why live in a tent when you can live in a building?"
"Because these are kings and princes and royalty," Chiun said heatedly.
"And that means they should live in a tent? If an Arab prince should live in a tent as a mark of honor, then you should live in a cave. A hole in the ground in Sinanju. But you live in a house. How do you explain that?"
And because it was a compliment that Remo had paid Chiun, as an expression of his respect, Chiun mumbled only, "I do not choose to speak of it anymore. Please, Remo, you're giving me a headache."
The Rolls Royce buzzed past the wall surrounding the city of Nehmad, as the road widened and then as it shrunk again into two narrow lanes out into the trackless, endless sand.
Reva kept asking Chiun questions. How long had he known Remo? Where had they met? What did they do together? Who did they work for? Chiun kept looking out the car window and finally said, "Please, dear lady, do not ask me to talk about things that pain me. Just know that it was the worst day of my life when first I set eyes on that white thing."
The city was out of sight, far behind them, when the road began a slight rise. When the limousine crested, Remo saw a city of tents a few thousand yards away
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from the road, in a declivity between two long, sloping sand dunes. Behind the cluster of tents was a large oasis, perhaps two acres in size. Women and men moved through the trees toward a central clearing in the green spot. Against the vast expanse of sand, the oasis looked like an emerald laid on a wrinkle-free sheet of brown butcher's paper.
Oscar pulled slowly off the roadway, and the Rolls sank softly into the sand. From the right, coming from the oasis and the tents, Remo saw a man leading a camel. The camel was bedecked with a stone-studded leather saddle.
As they all got out of the car, Reva said, "Oh dear. They sent only one camel." She turned toward Remo and Chiun. "When I get there, I'll have them send back more camels for you too. It's such a long walk in this heat."
Remo grunted. Chiun silently folded his arms.
When the Arab leading the camel drew near them, he stopped and bowed from the waist, then touched his waist, chest, and forehead in the traditional greeting.
Reva stepped forward toward the camel. But suddenly the Arab looked past her and recoiled as if she were unclean. She stopped and he pointed past her to Chiun, who stood silently, holding in his hand a miniature golden sword with a curved blade and a red ruby in the handle.
"All right," Remo said to Chiun in a hoarse whisper. "What is that piece of crap?"
"It is the sign of Hamidi royalty," Chiun said. "And never again ask what I carry in my steamer trunks."
A few moments later, Reva and Remo were trudging through the sand as the Arab led the camel, with Chiun perched atop, back toward the village. Oscar remained behind by the Rolls Royce.
Looking down the five feet toward the top of Remo's head, Chiun said in Korean, "You know, Remo, I have never really liked riding on camels."
"Try walking."
Chiun shook his head. :'It will not do. We are to 133
meet a prince, and the Master of Sinanju must arrive in proper fashion."
"Chiun, I'll tell you before we even get started. I'm not making any deals with this guy, whoever he is. I don't care what he offers you, how much shlock jewelry or fat-faced women. I'm here to find that bacteria crap and get rid of it. Anything else, forget it."
"Must you always talk business?" Chiun asked. "That is so mercenary." His camel moved away from them as they neared the village.