"I don't see any parachutes."
Chiun's voice was cold. "There are no parachutes. They are falling to their death."
"Oh, go on. That can't be."
"I see them as clearly as I see you," Chiun insisted.
"Probably dummies. It must be a rehearsal run."
"I see their limbs waving in terror," Chiun said.
"Probably the updraft. It's fierce. Can you imagine jumping out of one of those things? Brrr. Gives me chills, thinking about it. Know what I mean?"
"Yes," Chiun said. "I feel such a chill even now." He stood up. "Come, we must investigate this."
"Why?"
"Because while you were devouring the bloodied flesh of some unfortunate cow, many hundreds of men have been falling to their doom."
"Now, listen you-" Sheryl started to say. The brittle look in the Master of Sinanju's eyes stopped her, a piece of red beef suspended on a fork before her face.
"Okay," she said as she signed the bill, "one less steak in my life isn't going to be missed, I guess. Although it was a good one.
They walked out to the parking lot in silence.
"I was unable to reach Remo," Chiun said tightly.
"Your friend? I plumb forgot you were looking for him. Don't you worry, Sunny Joe probably took him out on the town-what there is of it."
"Was Remo to participate in the parachute scene?"
"Probably. I don't know. If we could scrounge up a call sheet, I could tell you. Why?"
"Because if he did, then he is now dead. And a terrible price will be exacted from those who were responsible."
Sheryl suddenly understood why the tiny Korean's cold demeanor had quelled her will to resist him. She said nothing as she opened the door to her jeep.
Chiun noticed that a chrome plate on the glove compartment said: "Nishitsu Ninja."
"Why is this vehicle called that? Ninja?"
"It's advertised as the Stealth jeep," Sheryl told him as she turned the key in the ignition. "But everyone knows it is because of the sneaky way it will tip on you when you take a corner. Jiro stuck me with this thing until my replacement is shipped."
Chiun nodded. "True ninjas fall over without reason as well. Usually due to rice wine."
"That explains why this beast guzzles gas like she does," Sheryl muttered as she took Route 8 east. "You're really fretting about your friend, aren't you?"
Chiun said nothing.
"Now, look. We'll just go to Luke and see for ourselves. And don't you worry," she added, patting Chiun's bony silk-covered knee, "I'm sure your friend is fine."
Chiun lifted Sheryl's hand from his person and replaced it on the steering wheel.
"We have a destination," Chiun snapped. "I suggest you take us to it."
"You're the boss," Sheryl told Chiun as she sent the jeep toward the city outskirts.
They were surprised when they passed a lone T-62 tank on the way.
"That little dogie must have strayed from the herd," Sheryl remarked. Chiun ignored her. He was looking at the city skyline. A column of smoke suddenly boiled up from the downtown area.
Seconds later, there came a distant boom and the jeep began to slew from side to side.
"My goodness," Sheryl said. "They weren't kidding when they said these Ninjas are prone to falling on their sides. A little piece of thunder and we almost turned turtle."
"That was not thunder," Chiun intoned. Sheryl peered past Chiun's parchment profile.
"Fire," she decided. "Wonder where it is."
"That was an explosion," Chiun intoned.
Before Sheryl could say another word, two more explosions rocked the city. Sheryl had to pull over, the Nishitsu Ninja began bucking so hard.
"My God, will you look at that?" she said. "They must be shooting in the city."
"No, those were bombs."
"Probably gasoline charges. I saw them rig a few the other day. They look like those plastic pillows with red cough syrup in them. But they are gasoline. Supposed to make a big blast and column of fire. They do amazing things with special effects, as you probably know."
"We must hurry," Chiun urged.
"Okay," Sheryl said, taking off again. "But if I hear another loud noise, I'm pulling over right quick."
At the point on Route 8 where the city stopped and desolation began, the road was blocked by two desert-camouflage T-72's parked hull to hull. Their fudgeripple turrets were turned sideways so that one pointed toward them and the other down the road to the desert.
"They aren't supposed to be filming way out here," Sheryl muttered as she slowed the Ninja. The tanks did not part for her, so she leaned on the horn.
A Japanese in a Chinese PLA uniform popped the turret hatch and scrambled down to the road. He unlimbered an AK-47 and pointed it at the jeep as he advanced in a classic "marching fire" stance.
"Road crosed!" he barked.
"What?" Sheryl called.
"That cretin is trying to tell you that the road is closed," Chiun said flatly.
"I know that. Now, hush up a minute while I get this straightened out."