"We've got our marching orders," he said, pulling away.
"Yes?" said Chiun.
"Waste the reenactors."
"Then we will waste the reenactors. "
"And kill Uncle Sam Beasley forever," Remo added.
"That will be your task."
"Why me?"
"Because you are afraid to do this, and you can only conquer that fear by doing the very thing that you dread."
And as they drove toward Euro Beasley, Remo knew that was exactly what be was going to have to do.
He just wondered if he could do it. Years ago he had been one of Uncle Sam's biggest fans.
TASK FORCE GROUP LEER Marc Moise moved among his Zouaves.
It was the beginning of the second hour of the retaking of Euro Beasley, and now that the French soldiers and the crowd had been scattered, they seized the ring of tanks and APCs that surrounded the park. In effect, they were expanding their sphere of control.
The tank-mounted howitzer and machine-gun barrels that had been pointing inward were rotated outward, covering all roads with overlapping fields of fire.
No one could approach without coming under annihilating fire. And if by chance a few did, his Zouaves would meet them with an irresistible rainbow of steel.
There was just one problem with all this. It was expressed to him in the form of a question as he moved among his charges.
"Do we wear our lead masks up on our foreheads or in front of our eyes?"
"Up on your foreheads, of course."
"And if we are attacked and must resort to showing our true colors?"
"Down before your eyes, of course."
The word was passed up and down the line. If attacked, the eye shields were to be worn on the forehead while defending with howitzer and machine gun. And if forced to pull back, the masks belonged in front of the eyes.
Marc Moise checked with every third man to be certain they understood their instructions. But in his heart he wondered about their willingness to kill. They were, after all, only Creole reenactors who had sided with the California Summer Vacation Musketeers back in Virginia because they had been offered reenactment jobs at Beasley U.S.A. Having closed ranks with the Corporation against the protesters, they had been hired on the spot.
And as they hung off the French military equipment-the first line of defense against attack-their fezzes askew, their manner excited, they looked for all the world like cannon fodder.
When the attack came, it arrived in a solitary diamond blue Citroen that coasted to a stop well short of the tank that squatted before the colorful entrance to Euro Beasley.
The doors popped open and four people got out.
They started toward the tank. They walked calmly and without fear. Except maybe for a blond guy who took up the rear. His knees were definitely knocking.
"GOD, IF THEY HUE us I hope they don't use Supergreen," said Rod Cheatwood in a nervous voice.
"Me, too," said Remo.
"Yellow, I think I could stand."
"Perhaps they will use pink," said the Master of Sinanju.
"I'd enjoy that," said Remo.
"Me, too," said Rod.
"You are all insane." Dominique Parillaud spit. "Zey 'ave machine guns and howitzers. Zey will annihilate us."
"I'd rather be annihilated than greened," said Remo.
"Or yellowed," said Chiun.
Dominique rolled her eyes. "I am not afraid of their gauche color. Only of French bullets."
"Bullets, we have covered," said Remo in a casually fearless tone.
They continued walking. Machine-gun barrels lined up on them, and excited words were shouted down.
"What're they saying?" asked Remo.
"I 'ave no idea," Dominique admitted. "It sounds like French, but no French zat I have ever heard before." She gasped. "Mon Dieu! I think zey speak franglais!"
No one fired, so they kept walking.
"No use to close our eyes," said Remo.
"How will closing your eyes protect you from bullets?" asked Dominique.
"I don't mean bullets. I mean the color stuff."
"Hypercolor," said Rod. "Too bad we don't have any lead masks," he added worriedly.
"Why do you say that?" asked Chiun.
"Lead is the only thing saturated color can't penetrate. It's too dense. When I used to work on the first hypercolor lasers, I'd wear a lead mask without any eyeholes to keep from getting hued."
" 'Hued'?"
"That's the technical term for it. Invented it myself."
"Little Father, do you see what I see up ahead?"