"Excuse me, comrade," Anna asked, "what is the meaning of this blockage?"
"What?" asked the boy. He wore a T-shirt that said, "Scrambled Debutante World Tour."
"I asked what was the meaning of this stopped traffic."
"What?" asked the boy, tapping the steering wheel with blunt fingers. He made noises with his mouth in time to the music that reminded Anna of her grandmother who was in a people's nursing home. She sat by the window all day and made similar sounds. The only difference was that her grandmother did not need raucous music to inspire her. She had suffered a brain injury during the Great Patriotic War.
Anna reached in and lowered the volume. "Huh?" said the boy.
"Can you hear me now?" asked Anna.
"I'm not deaf, you know," said the boy.
"Not yet. Why is the traffic stopped? Has there been an accident?"
"No, babe. This is the line."
"What line?"
"The line to the car wash."
"But this is a major highway. I see no car washer."
"Car wash. It's at the bottom of the ramp. The next exit. "
"I do not see what is so wonderful about a car wash-whatever that is-that it would back up the traffic like this."
"Hey, babe, it don't have to be wonderful. It's free."
"So?" asked Anna. In Russia, many things were free. Usually they were not worth crossing the street for, except possibly the free medical coverage every Soviet citizen received. That was worth crossing the street for. The trouble was, after treatment it wasn't always possible to cross back.
"Free is free," sang the boy, turning up the volume again.
"Why do you listen to that junk?" Anna asked.
"What?" asked the boy.
"Why do you listen to that?" Anna screamed into his ear, pointing at the tape deck.
"It helps me to concentrate," the boy screamed back. Anna Chutesov walked back to the car. Two things struck her simultaneously. One was the thick rubber burn marks in the middle of the road. She hadn't noticed them before. Rubber burns were common on American highways. But these were too big, the tires too fat, even for the big freight trucks that plied the roads.
The other thing that struck her was a memory. Dr. Smith had briefed her that the drunken driver, Daryl Doone, had claimed to see the shuttle disappear near a car wash. Air Force investigators had combed the area. The only car wash they had found was abandoned and empty.
Possibly the very car wash up ahead, Anna reasoned. Only now it appeared to be in business. She hurried back to the car.
"Do you know what a car wash is?" she asked Chiun. She smiled sweetly, as if talking to a child.
"I have seen them," Chiun said doubtfully. He knew from past experience that when Anna Chutesov turned on the charm she wanted something. He made a mental note that whatever it was, he would not give it to her without a fight-or without getting something very special in return.
"I have never been in one, but I would like to," Anna smiled. "All those cars in front of us are waiting in line to see this one particular car wash. It must be extraordinary. Don't you agree?"
"How can washing a car be extraordinary?"
"I don't know, but I would like to see the car wash that is causing such traffic," said Anna Chutesov.
"But I would not," said Chiun firmly.
"I will teach you more about driving," Anna promised. Ahead, the convertible surged ahead. The line was moving.
"You are already obligated to teach me all you know," replied the Master of Sinanju. "You cannot bargain with what you have already bartered away."
Anna said nothing. The Master of Sinanju was right. The line of cars inched forward while Anna thought. "It is important to my country that I recover our lost shuttle," she said.
"I am glad it is important to someone," Chiun sniffed. He sent the car bouncing forward. This time he braked with nearly two milimeters to spare between his bumper and the convertible's. He was very pleased.
Anna Chutesov folded her arms angrily. She was not going to get angry, she told herself. She was not going to betray her need. And most of all, she was not going to give in.
Then she saw the sign. It was a rude wooden sign, a piece of plywood nailed to a railroad tie and planted in the dirt at the roadside. A legend was scrawled on the board with what appeared to be sloppy blue paint: YURI GAGARIN
FREE CAR WASH NEXT RIGHT
"I must see that car wash," Anna Chutesov pleaded. "Name your price."
"Help me hold on to my son," said Chiun instantly.
"Done," agreed Anna Chutesov. "It is the next right," she added.
"I know. I had already decided to go there anyway," said Chiun. "Heh, heh. Too bad you were not more patient. "
Chapter 9
The car wash was constructed of aluminum and white tile, as if it had been designed by an architect who had practiced by building municipal lavatories. The sign over the entrance port read YURI GAGARIN FREE CAR WASH in neat black lettering. The building stood at the bottom of the exit ramp, in a blacktop oasis surrounded by high grass and weeds. It was doing a booming business. Every minute or two, another car rolled in one end and came out the other, glistening as if new.
Anna Chutesov examined the building critically as the Master of Sinanju sent their car jouncing along until they were third in line at the entrance.
"There is something wrong with this place," Anna said aloud.
"I agree," said the Master of Sinanju, watching a fly buzz the windshield.
"You do?"
"Yes. This free business. It is very wrong. It is un-American. "
"I was referring to the name over the entrance. Yuri Gagarin."
"A Russian name," said Chiun distastefully. The fly alighted inches from his face and began rubbing its forelegs together. Chiun hit the windshield-wiper switch. The fly took off just ahead of the sweeping blades.