Mr. Gordons turned his blocky body clumsily. The serpent heads looked down.
"I will listen to any reasonable offer as long as my survival is not threatened," he said.
"Senor Gordon, I can assure this," said El Padrino. "I am a very rich man. I own a fine hacienda that is like a fortress. I will see that no one injures you ever. I ask only that the President be handed over to me."
"Over my dead body," Remo growled.
A battery of Uzis suddenly pointed in Remo's direction.
"This can be arranged," El Padrino said simply.
"I do not want any deaths until the negotiations are finished," Mr. Gordons growled abrasively.
Remo turned to face him. "The vice-presidency still goes, Gordons. I can deliver."
"Do not be a fool, Gordon," El Padrino said. "Even if they agree to this preposterous thing, the Vice-President will be out of office in four years, perhaps eight. What guarantees do you have after this?"
"Is this true?" Gordons asked Remo.
"Hey, you could become President after that," Remo countered. "A lot of Vice-Presidents become President."
"This is true?"
"Sure," Remo said. "It's the American way. Anyone can become President. Right, Chiun?"
"I know this to be true, insane as it sounds," the Master of Sinanju intoned.
"You cannot possibly believe this, Senor Gordon," El Padrino cried. "With me, you have a lifetime yob. I have many uses for a yuggernaut such as yourself."
"I wouldn't take the word of a drug dealer," Remo pointed out. "Especially one with a speech inpediment."
"Is this true? Are you a criminal?"
"I am a businessman," El Padrino said smoothly. "In my country, I am more famous than the Vice President. See my fine pistoleros? They would lay down their very lives for El Padrino. And for you, Senor Gordon, if I say this."
"Prove this. Have one lay down his life for you."
"Of course," El Padrino said. He nodded to Comandante Embutes, who yanked Guadalupe Mazatl to her feet. He put a gun muzzle to her temple.
"We will kill this one, hokay?"
Guadalupe looked up through the disarrayed hair over her face. Her brown eyes leaked tears.
"Oh, Coatlicue," she pleaded. "Do not let them kill your daughter. I implore you."
"Do it!" El Padrino ordered.
"No," said the Master of Sinanju. "There is a better way."
"What way is that?" asked Mr. Gordons.
"Ask the woman," Chiun said. "She is about to die. She knows us all. Ask her whom you may trust."
The serpent heads swept away from the Master of Sinanju to the woman, Guadalupe Mazatl.
"Tell me," Gordons rumbled.
"There is only one way you can know the truth," Guadalupe Mazatl said. "And that is by telling them all where the presidente is. Among my people, we have a saying. Caras vemos, corazones no sabemos. It means 'Faces we see, hearts we don't know.'"
"Should I tear out their hearts?" Mr. Gordons asked.
"No. It means that only by their actions can you judge them."
"The woman speaks wisdom," Chiun told Gordons.
The statue was silent. Its unwinking serpent eyes shifted from face to face. Then the heads rejoined with a clicking kiss so that the flat eyes looked out.
"The President is safe within the hollow ape atop the building called Banana," he said at last.
"Banana?" Remo said. Chiun shrugged.
"Banana?" El Padrino asked. Comandante Embutes snapped his fingers. "The monkey atop the Banana boutique. In the Zona Rosa. He is there!"
"Gracias," El Padrino said, signaling to Comandante Embutes, who still had Guadalupe by the hair. He shot her through the temples once. Once was enough.
She slumped over, tumbling back down the steep steps like a broken doll.
"No!" Remo cried. He reached the steps in a single leap. One hand lashed out, ruining the comandante's face. He kicked backward, taking out another pistolero with a toe to the throat.
El Padrino retreated as his men closed on Remo. Their pistols came up, fixing Remo in a crossfire. Remo ducked under a snapping bullet. He felt it go through his hair. He had been too slow, and the other muzzles were tracking for him.
Above, the Master of Sinanju turned to Mr. Gordons.
"You see your answer," he said. "Are we on the same side?"
"Yes."
"Then prove your loyalty by helping my son."
Mr. Gordons serpent head snapped apart. He crushed down the stairs-heavy, ponderous, unstoppable.
As his golem shadow fell over the combatants, El Padrino turned. His face registered horror. He lifted his Uzi. Streams of bullets rattled out, pocking the stone hearts of Coatlicue's broad chest.
Still the monster came on.
Square pile-driver arms swept down, bursting human heads like melons.