"I would say what very, very big thing do you want me to assimilate, friend?"
"I'll get my car," said Larry Lepper, deciding that here was one robot he could learn to love, "and show you."
Chapter 17
At Los Angeles International Airport, the Master of Sinanju rented a car with the privileged air of a diplomat being whisked through customs.
"I'm driving," Remo insisted, as the counter clerk finished processing Chiun's credit card.
"No," said the Master of Sinanju firmly. "I am."
"Little Father, you don't know the roads out here. I do. We'll get there faster if I drive."
"But you do not know our destination," Chiun said triumphantly. "I do."
They walked to the lot in silence. Since Chiun had told Remo that he knew where to find Mr. Gordons, he had refused to say any more. He had asked Harold Smith to book a flight for Los Angeles and went off to change his clothes. Remo was surprised when he returned, not in a gaudy American suit, but wearing a brocaded kimono that Remo estimated weighed close to twenty pounds. The Master of Sinanju had explained that the matter between Sinanju and Gordons was a matter of honor and required ceremonial attire, and that he was not renouncing American dress, despite what Remo might think. He had also suggested that Remo dress more appropriately. Remo had changed his socks.
When they neared the rental car, Remo darted ahead and slipped behind the wheel. He grabbed it in both hands and clung for dear life.
"You are not driving," said the Master of Sinanjn testily. "I am. I purchased the use of this conveyance with my wondrous card and I insist upon driving."
"It's a credit card and everyone has one," cried Remo.
"Not like mine. Mine is gold, and merchants do not burden me with requests for money when I use it."
Remo, who had tried repeatedly to explain how credit cards really worked, and failed, sighed and said, "I'm driving. Just tell me where I'm going."
The Master of Sinanju stamped a sandaled foot. "If you do not step out this instant I will have you arrested." He made a show of looking around for a policeman.
"Tell you what, Little Father," Remo said lightly. "Let me drive down so you get to know the roads and I'll let you drive us back. Fair enough?"
"I wish to drive both ways," Chiun said stubbornly. "Sometimes the roads are not the same in both directions."
"Look, if I drive, you can concentrate on navigation. Anna told me you were a wonderful driver, but needed more navigation practice."
"She said that?" asked Chiun.
"Absolutely," lied Remo.
"I take back every bad thing I said about her," said Chiun, stepping around to the passenger side. "Where to?" asked Remo when Chiun settled into the passenger side.
"I will not tell you. I wish it to be a surprise."
"Then how am I going to get there?"
"Give me a map and I will inform you of each step."
"Oh, for crying out loud," Remo sighed, reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out a folded road map. "Here."
The Master of Sinanju delicately unfolded the map and studied it for some moments, tracing several routes with a long-nailed finger. Remo tried to peer over the edge of the map, and Chiun shifted in his seat so that his back was to Remo.
Remo folded his arms and looked bored. Finally Chiun said, "Leave this parking area."
Remo sent the car out of the lot and asked, Now what?"
"Left."
"This will go a lot smoother if I'm not working from connect-the-dots directions," Remo complained. "Could you possibly see fit to give a town to aim for? Please."
"Very well," said Chiun petulantly. "We are going first to Inglewood."
Remo fought the traffic along Manchester Boulevard until they hit Inglewood, and asked, "Now?"
"Follow this same road south."
Remo drove until the road took him to Firestone Boulevard and finally linked up with the Santa Ana Freeway. It was only ten in the morning and traffic was just a step away from being gridlocked.
"I do not know why you did not wish me to drive," said Chiun, his eyes peeled for cars decorated with fuzzy dice. "We are spending most of our time standing still."
Because he was in no mood for an argument, Remo asked about something that had been bothering him. "When Smith gave that credit card to you, what exactly did he say?"
"He said I was responsible for it."
"Responsible. That was the word he used?"
"Exactly. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing," said Remo. "By the way, have you been getting a lot of strange mail lately?"
"Some. All junk. I throw it out unread."
"I see," said Remo.
"Why did you ask that question?" Chiun wanted to know.
"Oh, no reason. Just to kill time."
The traffic got worse the further south they traveled. When they entered the town limits of Anaheim, it was almost at a standstill.
"This next exit," said Chiun at the last possible minute. Remo sent the car sliding off the ramp with a screech of tires.
"A little more warning next time, huh?" he said.
"We are almost there."
"Where?" But Remo knew where almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He braked the car. "Oh, no," he said, looking at the huge sign gracing the entrance to a sprawling parking area: DISNEYLAND.