The Master of Sinanju's reply was sobering.
"We are too few to ensure victory," Chiun said, his squeaky voice pitched low so none of the other riders could hear.
"We have men, horses, supplies, and weapons. What more does a Mongol army require?"
"More Mongols," Chiun said simply.
"We have thousands of stout Mongols," Boldbator boasted.
"When one contemplates sacking China," Chiun returned, his voice like stone, "one can never have too many Mongols."
Boldbator strained to look behind him.
"I do not think there are better men in all of Mongolia," he remarked.
"Send detachments to the nearest towns," Chiun said. "Learn if they can what transpires in Beijing. Muster more horse Mongols. And no Uighurs, Kazaks, or Kirghiz!"
"At once," Boldbator said, turning his complaining horse around.
The sky overhead was too blue to be true. Boldbator's lifted voice seemed to bounce off its uppermost reaches.
"Bato! Jagatai! Take you twelve riders each to Mandal Gobi and Holodo Suma. Gather up all the riders you can. Shame them with words or beat them with your whips, but let no abled-bodied Mongol refuse the call! We will await you at Sayn Shanda! Go!"
The riders got organized. They split off from the main body, which ranged in both directions as far as the eye could see.
"We can rest up at Sayn Shanda," Boldbator told Chiun after the thunder of hooves had died away. "Perhaps the latest news will have reached that place too."
Chiun nodded, his almond eyes never wavering from the horizon, beyond which lay Inner Mongolia and the prize he sought.
Chapter 28
As they approached Sayn Shanda in the desert, Kula cantered his horse up to Remo's side.
"Shall we await you in our gers?" he asked.
"There's a long black limousine somewhere in town," Remo said, his eyes on the white fingerlike apartment houses that dominated the Sayn Shanda skyline. "Find it and I'll be happy."
"What is this machine to you?"
"I have a score to settle with the driver."
"I will bring you his head on the tip of my sword," Kula vowed.
"Just track it down," Remo said. "I'll handle the rest."
"It will be as you say," Kula promised.
Kula lifted his deep voice, and like a wave of many-legged centaurs, the horsemen charged down into the town, leaving Remo to bring up the rear.
"Nothing like Mongol enthusiasm," Remo muttered as he watched them descend on Sayn Shanda.
He rode after them at a steady pace, his brow wrinkled in thought. He wasn't looking forward to the confrontation with Fang Yu. But there was no other way.
Remo rode through the streets of Sayn Shanda. Cars and bicycles gave way before him. Occasionally a person on the sidewalk would shout, "White tiger! Freaking white tiger!" at him in English. Word obviously travels fast among Mongolians, he thought. He felt like the star in the final reel of a King Arthur film.
As he rode along, Kula's horsemen-his horsemen, he realized with a start-were practically going house to house, trying to find Remo's black limousine.
Remo decided they had the matter well in hand and took a street he recognized would lead him back to the Genghis Khan Hotel. A Cyrillic-lettered Pepsi sign was an unmistakable landmark.
The street was long and lined with relatively modern shops and office buildings. Only the native costumes and braided hair of the women-that and the frequent Genghis Khan posters-made it seem not unlike a small American town.
Drumming hoofbeats lifted over the muted background noise of the city. They were riding hard, and coming this way.
The deep roar of a car, intermixed with a squeal of speeding tires, warned Remo of approaching trouble.
The black limousine raced up a side street bisecting the avenue. It flashed across so fast, to Remo it seemed unreal. Hot on its rear deck were a score of Mongol horsemen in full cry, Kula leading.
Remo spurred his horse.
"Hayah!" he said. Smitty responded, his hooves pounding the cobbles, eating up blocks.
The roar and clatter of hoofbeats changed, and grew.
Suddenly, from the opposite direction, the limo streaked across the avenue, one street closer to Remo. The Mongols plunged a length behind it. They seemed to have lost some horses along the way.
When the chase reappeared, one street closer and going in the opposite direction, Remo thought he saw a pattern forming. He slowed as he approached an intersection. Another couple of passes and the limo would have to get by him.
Remo pulled up and waited for the next violent crossing. He had time.
The limo didn't appear at the expected street, or the one below that. But the squealing of tires and the clop of hooves wasn't far away. In fact, it seemed very close.
Remo glanced down his intersection. "Oh-oh," he said.
For the familiar broad silver grille suddenly surged around a corner, Mongol horsemen hot on its burning rubber wake. It came at him like a battering ram.
Remo reined Smitty back. Just in time.
The limousine tore past him, only feet in front of his pony's snorting nose. Smitty reared up in fear. Remo calmed him with a squeeze of his strong legs.
Kula's Mongols whipped by next. Remo joined the fast-riding horsemen.
"We found it, white tiger!" Kula shouted exultantly.
"No fooling."
"It was parked before your hotel. The Chinese woman Fang Yu emerged from it. We let her alone and gave chase. Was that a good thing to do?"