"I have slain the most-ferocious killers on this world. Why can I not visit the celestial realm, where death does not walk in human form?"
Remo thought fast. Chiun was looking up at him hopefully, and his bald head only came up to Remo's breastbone.
"Because you're too short," he said quickly.
"What!"
"It's true, Little Father. Cross my heart and hope to die in old age. Astronauts have to meet a height requirement."
"There is nothing wrong with my stature!" Chiun flared.
"You gotta wear a protective space suit, and they don't come in your size. I think you're at least two inches shy of regulation astronaut height."
Remo held his breath as Chiun studied his face for signs of insincerity.
"And I suppose you will be allowed to ascend the heavens, stilt-legged one?" Chiun asked at length.
"I'm not planning to go into orbit, Chiun. Honest."
"The Chinese promised that I would be the first Korean into space when I was last in China."
"They were trying to launch you into the Void, Chiun. You know that. They wanted you dead. They figured a fast ride on an ICBM would be the quickest way to get rid of you."
"The Chinese know I work for America now. As do the Russians. As do many of this nation's mortal enemies."
"Yeah. So what? They don't know about CURE or Smith or even me."
"If the nations of this world know this, it cannot be the nations of this world who are attacking the New Rome. Fear of Sinanju wrath would stay their treacherous hand. Therefore, it can only be the work of a nation from some other world."
"Let's leave the Martians out of this. Come on. Let's just go, if you're going."
"I am going," Chiun said firmly.
"No steamer trunks this time."
"I will not pack for the voyage into space until I have been formally invited," Chiun sniffed. "I have my pride."
"Good. I don't suppose you still have that threepiece suit from a few years back when you were on your last Western kick?"
"Will wearing such a garment increase my opportunities for travel beyond this world?"
"Can't hurt," said Remo.
"Then prepare the scarlet chariot. I will join you."
Grinning, Remo went downstairs to wake up the chariot.
It was Harold Smith's latest attempt to fulfill a contractual obligation Remo had insisted upon. He needed a vehicle that was equal to Boston traffic and capable of being sideswiped, rear-ended and otherwise abused by insane Boston drivers. And it had to be red.
The last chariot, an armored personnel carrier, had been APC-jacked. The replacement was a little more down-market, but Remo had decided it would do. After all, if the Humvee was good enough for Arnold Schwarzenegger, it was good enough for Remo Williams.
The engine turned over without any trouble despite the subzero temperature.
The Master of Sinanju floated out of the condocastle a moment later, wearing a severe black threepiece suit that was ordinary in every way except the tailor had widened the sleeves so that they flapped like bell-bottom pant legs.
This sartorial compromise enabled the Master of Sinanju to conceal his hands in his sleeves, hiding the shame of his maimed fingernail from an uncaring world.
Chiun took the passenger seat, and Remo backed out, the Humvee engine surging powerfully.
It was night and the Southeast Expressway was all but deserted. They took the new Ted Williams Tunnel to Logan International Airport, parked and grabbed the first flight to Orlando, Florida. Which turned out to be the last flight of the night.
It wasn't empty, but the stewardesses outnumbered the passengers by half. Remo, realizing they would probably fill the idle flying hours by trying to sit on his lap all at once, told the Master of Sinanju, "Tell them I'm in a coma."
"You are not."
"I didn't say I was. Just fib for me."
"I will tell my own lies, not yours," Chiun snapped.
"Just so long as I get to sleep the flight away, undisturbed," said Remo, slapping a pillow behind his head and nodding off without further ado.
The first stewardess to check on their aisle after the 747 vaulted into the night sky was told, "Do not bother. He is gay."
"He does look kinda gay."
"He is very gay."
"Damn."
The second stewardess came up and said, "When he wakes up, will you let me know?"
"Why?" asked Chiun.
"Because I have a thing for gay guys."
"He is also VIP positive."
"He's famous?"
"He is diseased."
"Double rubbers. They work for me. Tell him, okay?"
"Of course."
The third stewardess came up, took one look at Remo and lamented, "Why are all the good ones married or gay?"