El Padrino ran out of bullets. He made the sign of the cross and stumbled back for the steps. Remo plunged after him.
Mr. Gordons trampled one last pistolero who had stayed to fight, and began lumbering down the stairs.
El Padrino got as far as the next terrace. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Remo and, more frighteningly, Coatlicue descending, and ran for the stairs.
He made a mistake many tourists make. He ran for the stone markers he thought headed the next flight of steps.
El Padrino assumed his feet would hit the stairs running. It was a wrong assumption. There were no stairs. He ran off the side of the pyramid, falling fifty feet. He didn't scream until he hit the terrace. Then he bleated like a lamb tangled in barbed wire.
Remo skidded to a stop. He saw El Padrino lying there, his legs twisted at impossible angles. The drug king coughed blood, proving that he was still alive.
The Master of Sinanju floated to Remo's side, ahead of the descending Coatlicue.
"Now what?" Remo asked, watching Gordons clumsily negotiate the steps.
"See to Guadalupe," Chiun said. "Now!"
"What about Gordons?"
"Leave him to me," the Master of Sinanju said, turning to face Mr. Gordons.
Remo went, quickly disappearing from sight.
Mr. Gordons strode to the lip of the terrace. He looked over the edge to El Padrino's struggling body. He was attempting to crawl to the steps. He left a trail of blood like a snail track.
"Well done, man-machine," said the Master of Sinanju, bowing.
"I am ready to return to America," said Mr. Cordons, clicking his serpent heads together. His walleyed gaze turned to regard the Master of Sinanju.
"You trust me, then?"
"Yes. Because of your actions. They tell me what your face and heart do not. At last I understand meat-machine behavior."
"Very wise. And I trust you too-unless of course you were lying."
"I was not lying. The President is hidden inside the ape."
"Excellent," Chiun said, pleased. His hands withdrew into his kimono sleeves. "Then we shall go to him as allies. After you have answered a question."
"What question?" "When we last encountered one another," Chiun said, "my son Remo fought the thing he thought was you. And I attacked the globe which I believed contained your brain. Both died at the same instant. Which truly contained your brain?"
"It was in the satellite," replied Mr. Gordons.
"That was very clever. And creative."
Mr. Gordons inclined his broad head. "Thank you. I pride myself on my creativity."
"No doubt your brain is an equally creative place this time," said Chiun slyly.
"It is."
"My son, who guessed wrong once before, is convinced it is in your right serpent's head."
"He is wrong," said Mr. Gordons.
"But I am cleverer than he," Chiun went on, lifting a long-nailed finger. "I know that it is in your left head."
"Why do you think that?" asked Mr. Gordons.
"Because you are clever, and that is not only the most creative place for your precious brain but also the safest."
"It is?" asked Mr. Gordons.
"Yes," said the Master of Sinanju. "For most humans are what is called right-brained. Or logical. By making yourself left-brained, you are automatically more creative."
"One moment." Mr. Gordons stepped around in place. His thick legs required him to take small side steps to turn his ponderous stone body.
"Why do you turn your back on me?" Chiun asked politely.
"There is something I must do," Gordons said, bending at the waist. One hand lifted to his left hemisphere.
" I am glad you trust me enough to do this," Chiun said.
"I trust you because of your actions. They tell me you have negotiated in good faith ."
"And your words tell me that you are a blockhead," said the Master of Sinanju as he set one sandaled foot to the serpent-twisted backside of the living statue of Coatlicue and exerted sudden force.
Mr. Gordons, in the act of transferring his brain from his left arm to his left hemisphere, toppled over the pyramid's side without a sound.
Landing, he broke into eight irregular pieces, pulverizing the still-squirming body of Jorge Chingar, a.k.a. El Padrino.
Remo came up the stairs like a rocket. He reached the shattered hulk that was Gordons. He looked up. "He's not moving."
"His left serpent's head is cracked in two," Chiun said as he floated down to join Remo.
"Yeah?" Remo said blankly.
"That's where his brain is," Chiun said smugly.
Remo looked at Coatlicue's fractured face. "How do you know that?" he wondered.
Chiun beamed like a wrinkled yellow angel. "The same way I know that it was I who killed Gordons last time, not you."
"How's that?" Remo said suspiciously.
"Because Gordon's told me so." And Chiun's angelic smile broadened.