"It is hot, like the KKK. Therefore it is a part of the KKK."
"Bull," said Remo. "And it's KKV."
"When have you known me to be wrong, Remo?"
"When you told Smith that the KKV's would always miss," Remo said absently, still examining the wheel. The breath of air stirred the dust on Remo's hair. He didn't realize its significance until he turned to ask Chiun a question. The Master of Sinanju was storming off. The way he carried his proud old head told Remo that he had hit a sore spot. Remo started after him, but a man in an Air Force major's blue uniform got in his way.
"I'll have to ask you to get away from here," the major said. "This area is being cordoned off until we find out what did this."
"That did," Remo said, jerking a thumb at the protruding mass.
The major got excited. He yelled suddenly. "The book! Get the book! I think I found it."
"Book?" Remo asked, momentarily forgetting the Master of Sinanju. He was ignored by the major.
Two Air Force officers came running up. One of them clutched a thick volume.
"Give me that," the major said anxiously. He began flipping through the book, alternately studying the smoking mass.
Remo moved up beside the men and ducked his head. The title of the book was Steam Locomotives.
Remo blinked. He looked again. It was not a hallucination. The three Air Force officers were consulting a book on steam locomotives. The major was flipping back and forth while the others, walking around the smoking mass of metal, shouted back at him.
"Looks like it came through without slagging," one shouted. "It's got the two bumper things in front."
"European," the major said. "Good. What else?"
"Looks like it's got flame deflectors mounted on the nose."
"That could make it either an Austrian Class D58 or a French Liberation-class engine. Maybe a Spanish La Maquinista, if it has spoked drive wheels. Does it have spoked drive wheels?"
"We'd have to dig it out to find out," the major was told.
"Why don't I help?" Remo suggested politely.
"I thought I told you to get lost. This is a restricted area."
"Oh, it's nothing," Remo said politely. "Don't bother saying 'please'."
Remo jumped up to the rubble. And like a dog uncovering an old bone, he went to work on the debris covering the metal heap. Pieces flew in every direction, shattering on the icy streets. In a matter of minutes he had exposed the object. It looked like a metal sausage that had been smashed into a wall. There was a threadlike texture to the metal, as if it had been wrapped in steel wire.
"How's that?" Remo asked.
The others looked at him. Then they walked around the object.
"Four ... eight ... two ... gives us fourteen spoked wheels," said the major. "It's not French."
"Then it's a Class D58."
"Or a La Maquinista."
The three officers pored over the book as if it held the key to their futures. Their faces were in total earnest. "Could you three hold that pose a minute?" Remo asked. He took off.
He found the Master of Sinanju staring up at the sheared tip of the Magnus Building.
"I apologize," Remo said quickly, figuring that he would get the hard part over with.
Chiun said nothing. He continued staring at the sky. "I was wrong," Remo added.
That got a response. "You are always wrong."
"I was wrong this time. It really is a locomotive."
"I know that. I do not care about that. It was the other thing. The cruel thing."
"I shouldn't have said what I did about your having been wrong. It was insensitive."
"Ah, but do you know why?" Chiun asked, facing him.
"Because it hurt your feelings."
"No, even that is of little consequence on this sad day."
"Then I give up."
"Because it was true. I was wrong." The Master of Sinanju whispered the last part.
"You couldn't know that."
"How will I explain it to Smith?"
"You'll find a way."
"I know," said Chiun, raising a hand. "I will blame it on you. "
"I don't think that will help."
"I assured my emperor that no harm would befall his subjects, and look at how many of them litter the streets like so many rag dolls."
"If we get the persons responsible, Smith will be satisfied."
"Smith may be, but I will not. No Master of Sinanju has been wrong in over a thousand years."
"Oh, come on," Remo said. Chiun glared at him.
"Perhaps only nine hundred years," Chiun relented at last. He gave a little sigh. "What is it you wish to show me?"