Remo was looking down toward a distant stone edifice his brochure called the Temple of Quetzalcoad. "I don't see any sign of Tito," he said. "Guess we gotta go to the top."
They started the final ascent. As they mounted the rubble-strewn steps, a towering stone carving became visible. It stood amid the rocks of the pyramid's uneven summit.
Remo looked at it without pleasure. "What the hell is this thing?"
It stood over eight feet in height, and seemed almost four feet wide. It was made of rude stone. It resembled, if anything, an Aztec conception of a robot. The broad head was carved into serpent heads perched nose-to-nose so that its side-mounted orbs looked out with wall-eyed balefulness. It wore a ghoulish double grin. Two other serpent heads formed shoulder epaulets, and instead of hands it sported blunted stone slabs. Its chest was arrayed with human hearts and dismembered hands. A skull served as a kind of belt buckle.
There was barely enough room on the rubble-strewn top for them and the idol when they joined it on the summit.
"It is an ugly Aztec goddess," Chiun said, looking around at the panorama of dead Teotihuacan far below. A river meandered nearby, as brown as an earthworn.
"I think you're right," Remo said, examining the idol. "It's a female. That's a skirt made of snakes. The whole thing is a walking snake pit." He paged through his brochure, trying find the snake goddess's name.
" I do not see any sign of Tito below," Chiun said, looking west.
"Ugly monstrosity, isn't it?" Remo muttered, looking at the idol's clawed feet. "Not exactly Egyptian."
"Its head is two serpents joined at the nose," Chiun noted. "The Egyptian gods had animal heads too. "
"If this is Egyptian, I'm as Aztec as Guadalupe."
"Behold," Chiun said suddenly, pointing to a cleared area of dirt where sat an olive helicopter. Comandante Odio's helicopter. Remo saw that the front seats were mangled and mashed.
Remo looked up. "He's already here," he said grimly. "Damn!"
"Beware, Remo," Chiun intoned. "He was not in the form of Tito when he journeyed here. He was much larger, much heavier. For both seats are crushed. "
"Good. That'll make him easier to spot," Remo said. He turned his attention back to the brochure. "Funny," he muttered. "I can't find it."
"Keep looking," Chiun said, his keen eyes raking the surrounding terrain. "He must be somewhere."
"Not Tito. This stone thing. According to this, we're standing on the rubble of a temple. No mention of any snake goddess," Remo's voice got smaller. "Uh-oh," he muttered, his gaze lifting to the double serpent head. He eyed its blank scaly face for expression.
"Little Father," he said softly.
The Master of Sinanju turned, his eyes quizzical. He saw his pupil's thumb surreptitiously jerking in the direction of the stone snake idol.
Chiun's eyes went very wide. Then, in a high squeaky voice, he said, " I hope our friend Josip Broz Tito arrives very soon."
"Yes indeedy," Remo chimed in brightly, edging away from the massive idol. "Be nice if he's early. The plane is waiting to take us back to the U. S., where we'll all be nice and safe."
"True, true," Chiun rejoined, also stepping away from the idol. "There is no telling what will happen to him if these Mexicans discover he has usurped their precious statue. He will be in very grave danger. They are no doubt pursuing him mightily at this very moment."
"Hope nothing happens," Remo added loudly. "I'd sure like to help him out."
They stopped. The statue simply stood there, immobile, invincible, inert. An Aztec golem.
"Maybe they already got him," Remo ventured pointedly.
"Yes, you are undoubtedly correct, Remo," Chiun said. "Let us go. There is nothing we can do for poor Tito now."
They started down the steps.
The sudden sound was like breaking rocks. It came from the summit. They turned, their hands lifting defensively, ready for anything.
The stone idol called Coatlicue roused to life. The kissing serpents parted and pointed down at them, a doubleheaded monstrosity on weaving stone necks. Its arms lifted to show its maimed forearms. And it spoke in a voice like grinding stones.
"I am here!" he rumbled.
"You are no longer Tito," Chiun remarked calmly.
"I can assume whatever shape I desire."
"We are pleased to meet you again, O statue," Chiun called up. "For we have come to parley."
The idol stepped forward on its clawed feet. Both heads looked at Remo. "And you?"
"We're both ready to negotiate," Remo said.
"Very well. I will surrender your President on two conditions."
Chiun smiled thinly. "Name them."
"One. That we are taken to a place of safety."
"Done," said the Master of Sinanju.
"Two. That I take the place of one who holds a position of security in the President's government."
"Tito's dead," Remo called, "and he's not with our government. "
"I mean the meat machine you call Vice-President of the United States."
Remo's eyes went wide. Chiun's narrowed.
"Why would you want that?" Remo wondered sincerely.
"I understand his duties are undemanding. I understand that he is well-paid, well-protected, and has much leisure time."
"You understand right," Remo said.
"These are my conditions. I am prepared to assume the form of the Vice-President at any time. I pledge to serve the office well, asking only to be unmolested for the natural span of my lifetime."
Remo and Chiun exchanged glances.
"Couldn't be any worse than the VP we already have," Remo muttered.