Madrid wouldn't take them.
Nor would Lisbon.
Finally, as a humanitarian gesture, the British cleared the Russian Yak-90 to land at London's Gatwick Airport.
The landing gear touched the tarmac just as the fuel-starved engines went cold. They rolled to an unpowered stop and were instantly surrounded by crack SAS commandos and ordered to evacuate the aircraft, for they were all being detained by the crown.
This prospect raised Colonel Rushenko's lagging spirits considerably. "Do you hear? We are being detained!"
"Don't think it doesn't mean you're not going to the boneyard of history," Remo warned.
"If you kill me here, you will be arrested for a capital crime on British soil. I have done nothing to you."
"You ordered us liquidated," reminded Chiun, looking out at the emergency vehicles, behind which crouched the dark bereted SAS with their Sterlings and their flat pistols.
"Did you know that the British have a very secret agency called the Source?" Rushenko offered.
"They can't thread a needle without sticking themselves," Remo said dismissively.
"Oh. You did know..."
"For years."
"What is your secret agency called?"
"It's not called anything. It doesn't have a name."
"That is a very smart agency. I only wish I had realized this option sooner, then you would never have found me."
Remo was going from window to window, looking outside over each wing. Challenger tanks were now blocking the Yak's nose and tail so it couldn't move in any direction.
"I'm not getting off this plane," Remo said after sizing up the situation.
"Someone must tell these cretins that we are charged with saving the world," said Chiun.
"That, too," said Remo. "But I was thinking that once we're off this plane, the only way home is on another plane. One with stewardesses. I'm not going through that again."
"What is wrong with stewardesses?" asked Colonel Rushenko.
"They're going through a phase right now."
"Phase?"
"They want to pop my buttons."
"That is a very peculiar phase."
Remo and Chiun huddled, and when they returned to the seat where Colonel Rushenko crouched so his head was not a target for SAS marksmen, Remo announced, "You're surrendering."
"I am not to be killed?"
"That's between you and the Brits. You're surrendering, taking the blame and telling the British all they need to hear so they let us fly on."
"What could I possibly tell them that would convince them to do this?" Rushenko wondered aloud.
Remo cocked a thumb at the Master of Sinanju standing behind him wearing a satisfied expression.
"That he's a passenger."
"I see," said Colonel Rushenko. "Of course, the British know the Master of Sinanju works for America. That may very well impress these people, who are not easily impressed."
Chiun smiled thinly. "This was my idea. For it is said that the highest master is he who does not need to fight."
"It is a brilliant solution," Rushenko said, visibly relieved.
"You're only saying that because you think you'll live," said Remo.
"The British will not kill me, for I will remind them that we are now ideological friends."
"You may tell them what you wish," said Chiun, stepping aside so that the Russian could scuttle to the main exit.
Remo slapped Colonel Rushenko on the back between the shoulder blades so hard that Rushenko's breath was knocked out of his lungs. He had to clutch the air-stairs rail going down. He managed to make it to the ground, hands held high, while he waited for SAS commandos to jump him.
Which they did with typical British reserve. They slapped him to the tarmac, chipping a front tooth. His hands were pinned behind his back, and he was handcuffed and dragged to the shadow of an armored BMP.
There, he gave in to interrogation so quickly that he wasn't believed.
"I am telling you I am in the company of the Master of Sinanju, who works for America, as I know you know."
"Likely story," a brush-mustached SAS major clipped.
"It is the truth."
A decision was made to storm the plane. Four commandos. They went up the air-stairs, paused at the cabin door, which was still hanging open, and tossed in flash grenades.
They went in firing.
And they came out flying, minus their weapons and wearing their birthday suits, to tumble all the way back to the ground in complete humiliation.
"I told you I spoke true," Colonel Rushenko said after the commandos were retrieved by armored car. "Do you believe me now?"
Reluctantly the SAS major did. The tanks were ordered off the runway, and the Yak was refueled.
It returned to the skies approximately the time Colonel Rushenko breathed a sigh of relief that kept on going, much to his growing astonishment. He couldn't stop exhaling, for some reason. He felt light-headed. His vision darkened.
By the time his captors realized he had succumbed to heart failure, there was nothing anyone could do for him. He was quite blue. And then quite dead. Quite.