"Burger."
"As in hamburger?"
Nancy sighed. "I'm afraid so."
She watched as men in midnight blue nylon jumpsuits hit the ground on ivory white boots. Disengaging themselves from the lines, they brought up AR-15 assault rifles.
King was storming about. "What took you so long!"
A man in a purple beret with a gold crown stitched in the front stepped up and executed a crisp salute. He was a colonel. The gold eagles that constituted his uniform insignia told that-although eagles didn't normally clutch a cheeseburger and a bag of french fries in each talon, Nancy realized.
The man in the purple beret executed a brisk salute. "Mr. King, sir. Colonel Mustard reporting."
"Mustard?" Remo said blankly.
"Code name. We're operating on foreign soil, as you know."
"That's no excuse for blowing the mission," King said bitterly.
The colonel looked at a wrist chronometer whose hands resembled french fries. "It's exactly 0400 hours. According to the timetable, we're mission positive."
"Well, you're too late anyway. They got away."
"Is the animal safe?"
"Yeah. No thanks to you." King looked up. The helicopters held their overhead positions. "Are they filming this?"
"Of course, sir."
"Tell them to stop. It's a debacle. The bastards got away. We were rescued by damn civilians."
"The Gondwanaland president gave us personal assurances that he'd keep his people on stand down, Mr. King," Colonel Mustard said stiffly.
Skip King stabbed an accusatory finger at Remo and Chiun. "Look, tell that to them. I'm just an exhostage." He took hold of his black hair as if to tear it out in chunks, but it was too short and greasy. It slipped through his fingers. "This is a mess. A total mess."
"What's he complaining about?" Remo wondered. "He's free, isn't he?"
"A major PR extravaganza went south when you two showed up," Nancy explained.
Remo shrugged. "That's the biz."
"Believe me, I couldn't be happier. If those corporate clowns had gotten here first, none of us would have survived." Nancy noticed the old Oriental. He was examining the Apatosaur, his head going from side to side like a curious cat's.
King also noticed. He stopped trying to uproot his scalp, and screamed, "Hey! You get away from there. That dinosaur is corporate property!"
The old Oriental ignored King's heated words.
"Didn't you hear me?" King howled.
"I see trouble coming," Nancy warned. "You better tell your friend to step away from old Old Jack."
"He has a name?" Remo said.
"You sound surprised."
The man named Remo shrugged. "It beats Wing Wang Wo."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Skip it."
King was shouting now, "Colonel Mustard. You remove that man right now."
"Yes, sir."
Nancy looked to Remo, who with a bored expression watched his friend about to be surrounded by four bulky mercenaries.
"Don't you think you should step in?" she asked.
"I don't care what happens to a bunch of guys in funny berets."
Nancy blinked. Her attention went back to the old Oriental. He was walking toward the small serpentine head now, his hands tucked in his voluminous sleeves.
Colonel Mustard of the Burger Berets attempted to restrain him with a firm hand on his frail shoulder. The hand descended. The colonel must have had an incredibly tenacious grip, because although he failed to arrest the old Oriental one whit, he was dragged along with him.
King shrieked, "What's the matter with you? He's got to be as old as Methuselah!"
"I-I can't seem to get him to stop," Colonel Mustard said in a voice that seemed to doubt reality.
"Try asking nicely," Remo called.
"Bull. Trip him," spat King.
The suggestion was executed with breathtaking speed. King had barely got the words out when the old Oriental paused, pivoted, and one sandaled foot caught Colonel Mustard across his unprotected kneecaps.
The colonel went down clutching them both, curled in a fetal position and rocking on his spine.
"Not you!" King screamed. "I meant for him to trip you!"
The old Oriental's voice floated back thinly. "Then you should have chosen your words with greater care."
"I want that man stopped now!" King caught himself and began pointing. "I mean, I want you-the Burger Berets-to stop him, whatever his name his."
"His name is Chiun," Remo offered.
"Stop Chiun," King cried.