"Of course. Only a Russian would offer something good for nothing. I told you it was un-American." Chiun stopped the wipers in mid-sweep.
"Yuri Gagarin was the name of the first cosmonaut shot into outer space."
"What did he do wrong?" asked Chiun, watching the fly as it returned to its former spot, next to one of the motionless blades.
"Nothing. Being shot into space is considered a great honor for a Soviet citizen."
"In the days of Caligula, having your head dipped in a vat of cooling tallow was considered an honored way to depart this world also," said Chiun, hitting the switch again. The fly looped off just ahead of the lazy wiper blade. "Especially when compared with the more common practice of being torn apart by lions."
Anna Chutesov sighed. "Yuri Gagarin was killed in an aviation accident in 1968."
"His son, then."
"The son of a Soviet hero would not stoop to operating a car-wash machine in America."
"Why not? The best citizens of the world come to these shores. America is a land of opportunity. All are welcome here."
"Those words seem hollow coming from so exalted a personage."
"At least we agree on one thing," said Chiun, watching the fly buzz the wipers curiously.
"That you are full of hot air?"
Chiun made a face. "No, that I am an exalted personage. Although I much prefer the term 'awesome.' 'Illustrious' is good too."
"Yuri Gagarin is the name given to the Soviet spacecraft I am seeking. See those tracks of burned rubber on the road? I believe they were made by the craft. They lead directly to the car-wash building."
"So?" asked Chiun, turning off the wipers and pretending to look elsewhere.
"So this is no coincidence," said Anna Chutesov. "The enterprising owner of yon car-wash machine renamed it in honor of the exiled Gagarin after the craft named after him ventured through his establishment. Perhaps it was his first customer. American merchants always celebrate the first customer-although everyone knows it is the customer you are dealing with at a given moment who is the most important." And without looking at the windshield, he hit the wiper switch. The fly became a smear on the glass. The smear was obliterated on the reverse sweep, causing the Master of Sinanju to smile delightedly.
"The Yuri Gagarin would not deviate from its mission merely to undergo a wash-and-wax treatment," answered Anna Chutesov huffily.
"No! Did you not tell me that there are no such machines as these in your native Russia?"
"What has that to do with anything?"
"Have you a better explanation than the one the Master of Sinanju has put forth?"
"No," said Anna Chutesov miserably, as the yawning entrance loomed nearer, like a great cubistic cavern.
"Our turn has come," said Chiun, and he sent the car bouncing and lurching into the darkened interior of the Yuri Gagarin Free Car Wash.
A uniformed attendant stepped up to Chiun's side of the car.
"Put the car into neutral and take your foot off the brake," he instructed.
"What is neutral?" asked Chiun, noticing the attendant's nametag.
"You kiddin' me, bud?"
"Never mind, I will do it," said Anna, batting the gearshift lever into the neutral position.
"You got a funny accent there, lady," said the attendant. "Where're you from?"
"Moscow."
"That near Russia?" he asked suspiciously.
"Too near," said Anna Chutesov.
"I don't like them Russians," the attendant opined.
"It is mutual, I am sure," said Anna Chutesov in a voice like a brook freezing over.
"What do we do next?" asked Chiun.
"Don't you know?" said the attendant.
"We are new," said Chiun, "to the mysteries of American car washing."
"Just roll up your windows and enjoy the ride."
"But how will I converse with the menials who do the washing? I may wish to urge them on in their important tasks."
The attendant laughed. "There ain't no other meat machi-I mean men, here. Just me. Machines do all the work."
"Machines?" said Anna Chutesov. "Then you are the owner?"
"Nope. He's in the booth at the other end. I just make sure the cars go in okay."
"But you said you were the only person here," Anna pointed out.
"I am," said the attendant as he set the chocks that locked the car onto the moving track. The car began to glide toward hanging black leather strips. Anna shut the electric windows.
"That poor man," said Chiun sadly.
"What about him?"
"He has fallen greatly in life."
"You know him?"
"He was once of royal blood. Now he tends machines."
"How can you tell he is royalty?"