In every detail-from the square grille to the absence of bumpers-it resembled the predatory black limousine from America!
Remo switched directions and went after it.
The limo disappeared through an iron gate in front of the Great Hall of the People, on the western side of the square, facing the Monument to the People's Heroes, an obelisk which resembled a Chinese version of the Washington Monument with a kind of Iwo Jima bas-relief running around its base.
PLA soldiers shut the gate after the car with a ringing clang.
Remo stopped, hesitant. He was in the middle of the square, exposed on every side. He knew the Great Hall of the People was a meeting place used by the upper leadership of Red China. If he crashed it, he would have to use his Sinanju abilities, and Smith had warned against that. To say nothing of the international incident he would cause.
Remo decided on the subtle approach. He sauntered up to the guards at the gate. He was so artfully inconspicuous that they jumped at his friendly, "Hi, fellas!"
The PLA men looked at him angrily. Like many Asian soldiers, they looked younger than their years, like Boy Scouts with automatic weapons.
There was nothing playful about the way they brought those weapons off their shoulders and pointed them at Remo.
"Oops!" Remo said, putting up his loose-fingered hands. "Didn't mean to spook you guys. Anyone speak English here?"
"You not be'ong here."
"I'll settle for Pidgin English." Remo grinned. "Relax. I was just wondering about that limousine that just scooted through that gate behind you."
The soldiers looked blank.
"The car," Remo prompted. "The one you just let in."
"No car pass through here all night," he was told.
They looked nervous. Remo detected their respiration quickening. Their heart rates picked up. His innocent questions about the limo were upsetting them.
Remo pressed on. "I was just wondering if it was some kind of special Chinese model. Nice workmanship. Love the bold, uncompromising lines. Kinda like a Stalin Continental."
"You ask too many question," the other solder announced. "We must detain you."
"Hey, aren't we overreacting to a little window-shopping?" Remo said. He lowered his arms as the pair approached.
One man shouldered his AK-47, which made it easier to take out the other. Remo did that with a high kick that sent the muzzle flashing up into the guard's startled face.
Unfortunately, the guard's trigger finger was tight on the trigger. A hot burst of automatic-weapons fire flared like a Roman candle in the night.
The other guard decided to unshoulder his rifle again. Remo reached out and pulled it off his shoulder for him so fast the strap broke. The guard's shoulder also broke. Remo slapped him on top of the head, and his face actually bounced when it hit the hard stone cobbles of Tiananmen Square.
The short burst of automatic-weapons fire galvanized the patrolling soldiers. They began shouting unintelligible questions at one another. They converged on the gate where Remo was.
Remo decided that going over the gate worked best for him. He might find the limo too.
But he changed his mind halfway up. Guards were coming from within, unshipping their AK-47's.
Remo jumped down with alacrity. No point in getting trapped behind the gates. He'd take his chances out in the open.
PLA soldiers clopped over the square, their weapons up. They looked ready to use them.
Remo elected to throw up his hands and walk into the middle of the square. Mao's tomb lay to his right. Too far away to make a break for it. The People's Monument looked inviting, however.
They formed a circle around him, dropping their muzzles in line with his stomach and back.
"American tourist!" Remo warned. "You shoot me and all the Yankee bucks will dry up. Got that?"
"Who are you?" an older soldier demanded truculently.
"My ID's in my pants pocket. I'll take it out, okay?"
The soldier used his weapon to gesture to Remo's pockets.
Remo clapped his hands suddenly. The unexpected report was like invisible lightning. Everyone blinked.
Except Remo. He executed a Sinanju leap called the Twisting Dragon. He went up, arched his back sideways, and landed twenty feet short of the People's Monument-close enough to sprint the remaining distance as the soldiers reacted to the impossible disappearance of their prisoner.
Remo lay flat on the monument's flat summit, and amid a confusion of shouts and curses, the circle of PLA broke apart. The soldiers charged around the square aimlessly, blowing whistles and adding to their own confusion.
Remo stayed on the statue, hugging it like a patch of shadow. Every time a soldier approached from one side, Remo slipped over to the other. No one saw him.
Eventually the search pattern widened further, leaving Tiananmen Square all but deserted.
Carefully Remo floated down from the statue and calmly walked toward his hotel.
He figured the lobby was probably crawling with PLA, so he went up the side of the Beijing Hotel like a human spider and reached his balcony without incident.
Remo stripped to his shorts and waited for the inevitable knocking on the door. He imagined the People's Army would turn the hotel inside out looking for any Westerner matching his description.
Remo rumpled his hair when he heard pounding on the door next to his. The pounding continued. When no one answered, Remo's acute hearing told him that the next room was empty.
That gave him an idea.
He hurried to his door and slipped out. Two green-clad soldiers were shaking the next door with their banging.
"He's escaping to the balcony!" Remo called, hoping that they understood English.
One did. He pounded the lock into submission with the butt of his rifle and jumped in.
Unfortunately, the other one came for Remo.
"Where have you been all night?" he demanded.
"Here," Remo said. "Honest."
The guard looked past Remo's naked shoulder into the hotel room.