"Okay, okay, come on," Remo called down.
He held the lid back as Kula's men clambered up, swords at the ready but nothing to stick them in. The Mongols looked disappointed.
"What do you think?" Remo asked Kula as they stood in the emptiness of this new courtyard.
"Tunnels," Kula muttered darkly. "This is the work of a Chinese. They love tunnels."
"We'll see." Then he noticed the footprints in the snow.
They led to a door on a nearby wall. They reminded Remo of the footprints of the black-masked chauffeur.
"Come on," Remo said. He led them to the door. Without hesitation, Remo kicked the door in.
Better to take the enemy by surprise-or as much surprise as possible, considering his entourage, he reasoned.
Inside, yellow desert dust covered sheets draped over long glass display cases. It was a market of some type, not in use.
Remo followed the footprints to a set of stairs. They went up in silence.
At the top they found an apartment, it too covered by drapes.
Remo looked around hurriedly. The Mongols upset the furniture like schoolkids. They ran swords and knives through overstuffed chairs, examining their withdrawn blades for blood. The absence of gore made many of them grunt unhappily.
"Nothing," Remo said at last. "Wait a minute," he said, looking out a dingy window.
On the sidewalk below, he spotted footprints. The chauffeur's. They led away from the building.
"Let's go!" Remo shouted. "He's getting away!"
The Mongols raced to the door, nearly dismembering one another trying to plunge down the stairs with swords in hand.
Remo was the last one out of the room. The stairs were choked with Mongols, so Remo cleared them with a single leap. He kicked the front door open when he reached it, hitting the sidewalk without breaking stride.
Remo found the street empty in both directions.
His eyes scanned the snow at his feet. The Mongols piled out, ready to do battle.
"Hold up!" he said, blocking Kula with a hand. "Check it out!"
The Mongol looked down. There were two sets of footprints now-one going and one coming.
"Enlighten us, white tiger," Kula said.
"This second set wasn't there a minute ago," Remo explained tersely. He backtracked them.
They led him back into the house through the broken door.
"This is the guy from the back of the limo," Remo told Kula. "I recognize his footprints from New Rochelle."
The sinister name "New Rochelle" buzzed from Mongol lip to Mongol ear. Lips tightened. Daggers were clutched more tightly.
"He must have slipped inside when we were upstairs," Remo added. "Come on. We'll nail him."
They ran back into the building. This time they turned the place upside down in their fury. Display cases were overturned and their glass kicked loose under frustrated sheepskin boots.
Remo went back upstairs.
"There is no one here," Kula shouted up from below.
"Check for secret passages, tunnels, anything!" Remo shouted down. "He's in here!"
The Mongols grunted and ran the walls through with their blades, until every vertical surface resembled crumbling Swiss cheese.
They found no sign of life. There was no basement, no attic-just two deserted and now disarrayed floors.
Remo came down the stairs dejectedly.
"I don't get it," he growled.
He went outside. "He had to come here while we were upstairs," Remo said aloud to the nearest Mongol. "So where did he go?"
The Mongol shrugged. He couldn't understand it either. Or Remo. He didn't speak English.
"Perhaps he is a ghost," Kula ventured. "We have ghosts in Mongolia, just as you do in demon-haunted New Rochelle."
"I've never seen a ghost in Mongolia or New Rochelle."
Remo decided that following the chauffeur's footprints was his only sensible course of action.
His Mongols at his heels, Remo made his way through a maze of alleys.
The footprints-both pairs-paralleled one another, although going in opposite directions. They led back to the first courtyard, which was once more empty.
"I thought you guys left the slab down limo-side-up," Remo complained.
"We did, truly," Kula said.
"Well, it's gone."
To be certain, they upended the slab again. The limousine wasn't on either side of the revolving surface.
But Remo noticed that the tracks of the passenger as well as the chauffeur stopped at the edge of the slab-one going and the other coming.
"This doesn't make sense," Remo told no one in particular. "I checked the car before I went down the tunnel. It was empty."
"Yes?" Kula said.