"But you speak English?"
"Yeah. How much for two rooms?"
"You pay in yuan or dollars?"
"Dollars."
"One dollar sixty-nine cents, please. In advance."
Remo looked at Fang Yu doubtfully.
"Mongolia just opening to the West," she explained. "Need hard currency very much. Good buy."
"At these prices, I could buy the whole freaking hotel," Remo said, digging out his wallet.
"Ah, freaking hotel not for sale," the Mongolian woman said, enjoying the taste of the new American word in her mouth.
A bellboy in a white del escorted them to their rooms after Remo explained for the fifth time that he had lost his luggage. Sympathy for him and clucking sounds of disapproval for the "freaking" Hong Kong baggage handlers greeted his remark.
"I'm going to make a call," Remo told Fang Yu as they parted at their doors. "Meet you later. For lunch?"
"After I shower. I will call on you."
"And maybe a get-reacquainted session?" he added hopefully.
Fang Yu looked away guiltily. "Perhaps."
"You'll feel better after you clean up, Remo said, trying his best to sound upbeat.
Once in his room, he grabbed the telephone. It had a rotary dial.
To his delight, the hotel operator spoke English. After inquiring how he liked his "freaking" room, she asked if he'd like to place a "freaking" call.
"What's the phone code for America?" Remo asked wearily.
Upon receiving the number, Remo punched it in, and then dialed one repeatedly. He was used to hitting a button and waiting, so he just kept dialing until the line rang and the sharp lemony New England consonants of Harold W. Smith pierced his ear.
"Remo, where are you?" Smith asked breathlessly.
"Believe it or not, Outer Mongolia. I've heard of Outer Mongolia all my life, but I never dreamed I'd wind up here. And I have you to thank for this."
Smith ignored the dry sarcasm of Remo's tone.
"Have you found Chiun and Zhang?" he asked.
"No, but I'm not far behind them, I think. Chiun's been cutting a swath through China and Mongolia. Did you know there were two Mongolias, by the way?"
"Yes, I did. What city are you calling from?"
"Sayn Shanda. It's in the non-Communist Mongolia. I guess that explains why the phones work."
"Remo, I am getting disturbing reports out off China. Troop movements. Concern in Beijing of a Mongolian uprising. "
Remo sighed. "Chiun. Don't ask me how, but he's got half of Asia stirred up. From what I hear, he's raised an army. You know him. He never did like the Chinese much. Do you think he's out to conquer the whole place?"
"I do not know," Smith admitted. "It does not sound like him."
"None of this sounds like Chiun," Remo said, looking out the window. It was starting to snow again, not hard, just flurries. "What the hell is he up to?" Remo asked plaintively. "Why did he run out on us?"
"Remo, listen carefully to me," Smith said, low-voiced, even though he was speaking over a secure line. "Our reconnaissance satellites show a mass of cavalry moving south for the Mongolian joint border."
Remo brightened. "Great. Then I'll just wait for Chiun and his merry band to show up."
"We have reports out of China that the Twenty-seventh Army is being sent north by rail."
"So?"
"Those were the troops used to attack Tiananmen Square, after the local units refused. They're peasant soldiers, politically unsophisticated and therefore used to obeying their commanders. It is obvious to Washington that they are out to intercept the Mongol force."
"No problem," Remo said. "I'll stop Chiun before the Twenty-seventh reaches the China-Mongolia border."
"No," Smith said. "China has a deep-seated fear of a Mongol invasion, even to this day. The Twenty-seventh will not stop at the border. That rail line passes through the heart of the Gobi to the capital of Ulan Bator. They'll engage the enemy as deep into Outer Mongolian territory as they possibly can. The Twenty-seventh Army-which is politically unpopular-will probably be used for cannon fodder while other units are massed on the border as a mobile Great Wall of China. Your job, Remo, is to stop that troop train at all costs."
"Any suggestions?"
"That is up to you. But you must do it. A Chinese incursion into Mongolia will have grave political repercussions. Outer Mongolia, although friendly with China, is allied with Russia. The Russians would see an incursion as a prelude to an attack on the SU."
"SU?"
"Soviet Union. That's what we're calling it now."
"Oh. It's hard to keep up with a changing world."
"Remo, I'm counting on you," Smith went on. "The President is counting on you. Never mind Zhang Zingzong. Stop the Twenty-seventh Army first."
"And then?"
"Stop Chiun. Just as we cannot allow China to attack Outer Mongolia, a Mongolian attack on mainland China would precipitate an equal crisis. The Chinese are already embroiled in Moslem uprisings in the eastern provinces. It's a mess."
"Tell me about it," Remo said.
"Sometimes," Smith confided, "I think the cold war was a better time. All this nationalistic strife is making global strategy exceedingly difficult to manage."
"Global strategy is your problem," Remo said. "Mine is heading off this mess. But at least I have Fang Yu."
"Ivory Fang. My contact, remember? She's been a great help. Don't know how I'd've gotten this far without her."