"That man is growing more impossible with each passing day," Chiun said huffily.
"What are you trying to bag him for this year? Disneyland again? Or are you still trying to get him to match Roger Clemen's salary?"
"Our Disneyland negotiations have collapsed." Remo feigned horror.
"No!" he gasped.
"Smith claims that the current owner refuses to sell," Chiun said bitterly. "I, however, may bring it up again. For too many years have I accompanied you on your missions for insufficient recompense."
"I thought we were co-equal partners, to use your own phrase."
"True, but that is an understanding that exists betweenyou and me. It has nothing to do with Smith. For the purposes of contract negotiations, I am the Master and you the pupil. I have been trying to impress this upon Emperor Smith, but to no avail. The man is invincibly dense."
"Is that why you didn't go to Providence with me?"
"Possibly. It might have helped my cause had you failed miserably. But I do not hold your uncharacteristic success against you. I am certain it is not deliberate."
"Nice of you to be so understanding, but I do feel like I failed miserably."
"May I quote you? To Smith?"
"Do what you want," Remo said. "I'm leaving." The Master of Sinanju hastily padded after him.
"And I am accompanying you," he said. "Perhaps Smith has an assignment for you of such magnitude that he will beg me to accompany you. For a suitable price, of course." Remo cast the half-decorated tree a wistful glance as he left the house. He had no inkling that by the time he would see it next, all the needles would have dried up and fallen to the floor.
Bartholomew Bronzini left the Yuma police station in smoldering silence. He was escorted out by a trio of Nishitsu Corporation Lawyers. Jiro Isuzu led them.
At the bottom of the steps, Jiro Isuzu turned to Bronzini and said, "Authorities wirr not make trouble now. Don't want to roose movie. Also, promise to use porice in firm." He pronounced it "fir-em."
"Why didn't you let me speak up back there? I wanted to tell my story."
"Not necessary. Situation under contror now. Porice brame picketers."
"Hey, I had a part in that little fracas. I got in their faces. I'm as much responsible for what happened as anybody. And what the hell did you think you were doing by ordering your goons to open fire like that?"
"Your rife in danger."
"The hell it was. I was decking them reft and light -I mean left and right."
"Action necessary to save your rife. Also to discourage picketers."
"They had a right to picket. This is America.'
"Arso this is Japanese production. No bad pubricity must attach itself to our work."
"No bad publicity! Four IATSE protesters are dead. You think that won't get in the newspapers?"
"Porice have agreed to hold suspects untir firm complete. "
"What? You can't hide a thing like this forever."
"Not forever. For two week."
"Two weeks!" Bronzini exploded. "That's our shooting schedule? It's im-fuckin'-possible. Pardon my French."
"We do outdoor scenes first," Isuzu explained. "Break production into nine units, arr shoot at once. Other actors fry in to do their work. This way, we come in under budget in ress than arrotted time. Now prease forrow. "
"Where to?"
"Other probrem need fixing. Prease forrow van." The Nishitsu team loaded into the waiting van. Bronzini straddled his motorcycle, waiting for them to start.
"This isn't right. None of it," he muttered.
But when the van started off, he followed it through the gridlike streets, out of the center of town, and along a dusty desert road. They were leaving the city proper. The high battlements of the Chocolate Mountains loomed in the distance. On either side of the road, stucco and exposed-beam houses gave way to endless beds of lettuce fields, one of Yuma's principal crops. In the distance a chevron of F/A 1-18's etched silent contrails against the cloudless sky.
Then the lettuce beds gave way to scrub desert and sandhills. The hardtop road stopped but the van kept going. It wound in and around the sandhills and Bronzini wondered where they were going.
They passed through a chain-link fence guarded by Nishitsu personnel and up a dusty road. Behind a cluster of hills lay a group of candy-striped tents. Bronzini recognized it as a location base camp. But what was it doing way out here in the desert?
The van turned into the base camp and parked beside a row of Nishitsu RV's and Ninja jeeps.
"What's this all about, Jiro?" Bronzini demanded as he dismounted.
"Base camp for firm."
"No shit. Isn't this a little out-of-the-way?"
"We are firming in desert."
"You are what!" Bronzini ground out. "What are you going to do, paint the sand white and pretend it's snow? I got news for you, it won't wash. And I won't stand for working on a stupid backlot street set either. We film in the city with real buildings and local people as extras. My films are known for their authenticity."
"Crimax of firm set in desert. We wirr shoot it here." Bronzini threw up his hands.
"Wait a minute, wait one little minute here. I want to see the script."
"Script sent yesterday. You no get?"
"My agent got."
"Oh," Jiro said. "One moment, prease." He went to one of the RV's and returned with a copy of the script. Bronzini snatched it from his hands. He looked at the cover. The title was visible in a cutout window.
"Red Christmas! What happened to Johnny's Christmas Spirit?"
"Title change in rewrite."
Bronzini flipped through the pages until he found some dialogue featuring his character, whose name was Mac. The first words he came to were "Up yours, you Christless commie bastards!"