"Who is this great enemy?" Maui Wosheesha demanded. His voice was as full of quiet strength as a lion passing silently through the high grass. His gold and ivory bracelets clattered musically as his broad hand closed around the shaft of his steeltipped spear.
"You wish to see him?" Reggie asked. "You desire to hear his name spoken aloud?"
"Show the man and say the name," Hirako Woshimoto insisted. There was the faintest rustle of silk as his fingers came to rest on the tasseled handle of his ceremonial samurai sword.
"The man is one called Remo. And if you wish to see him, you need merely to look beneath your plates."
The low-voiced murmur of a dozen different tongues accompanied the lifting of the plates. There was a photograph under each one, all alike. They showed Remo, wearing the ugly grayish suit he had worn to the presidential press conference. The camera had caught him in the instant that he had tossed a notebook, severing Du Wok's sword hand from the rest of his arm.
"His head is mine," Ree Wok shouted. "Mine," said Maui Wosheesha. "Mine," said Hirako Woshimoto.
Reginald Woburn silenced them with an upraised hand.
"Who will kill this man?" he shouted.
"I will." A hundred voices, a dozen tongues, all of them speaking as one. The windowpanes rattled as the chorused response filled the huge dining hall.
Reginald Woburn smiled, then slowly looked around the long table, meeting the eyes of each of them in turn.
"He who kills him will have a further honor," he said.
"What is this honor that will be mine?" asked Hirako Woshimoto.
"He who kills this man will be allowed to kill another."
"Who is?"
"The beast," Reginald Woburn said. "The Korean assassin who drove Prince Wo to these shores. For this young one is his disciple and the seventh stone tells us that both must die."
Chapter Eleven
"Pay attention now," said Chiun. "A wandering mind gathers only moss."
"That's a rolling stone," said Remo, "and I am paying attention. I always pay attention."
"You know less about attention than you know about wisdom. A rolling stone gathers no moss; a wandering mind gathers all moss. They are very different," Chiun said.
"If you say so, Chiun," Remo said. He smiled at his teacher, who looked away, annoyed. Chiun was worried about Remo. The hiding time had still not passed for him, and he was out of touch with himself and his reason for being. He did nothing now except to perform unspeakable acts with that imposter posing as an actress, who didn't even know Barbra Streisand, and that was proof that there was something wrong with Remo.
Because he should not be paying so much attention to a woman and to sex; there were more important things for a Master of Sinanju, primarily training and contemplation. As it was now, Chiun had had to implore Remo to show up for this training session.
"Watch closely now," Chiun said.
"I am watching. Is this a test to see how long I last before I collapse of boredom?"
"Enough," Chiun muttered.
They stood on the beach of a deserted inlet on the undevloped side of the island. There were no buildings or people, no pleasure boats to smudge the umblemished line of the distant horizon. A strong southwest wind rippled the surface of the crystal blue water and tempered the heat of the midday sun.
Chiun walked to the edge of the water, glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Remo was watching, then stepped toward the frothy bubbles of the spent surf. As he took his first step, he began to wave his arms back and forth alongside his body, his fingernails pointed downward.
He walked out five steps, his arms still moving, then five more. Then he turned and walked back and stood before Remo.
"Well?" he said.
"That's the lesson for today?" Remo said. "Watching you take a walk in the water?"
"No, the lesson for today is the same as the lesson for every day: that you are truly an idiot. You saw me walk into the water?"
"Of course. I told you I was paying attention."
"Then look at my sandals," Chiun said. He raised one thin yellow leg toward Remo. His thin yellow shin peeked out from under the lifted edge of his dark red kimono.
Remo looked at the offered sandal, then leaned over to touch it. It was dry, bone dry. And yet he had just seen Chiun walk ten paces out into the ocean.
"How'd you do that?"
"If you were truly paying attention, you would know the answer," Chiun said. "Now this time, watch again. But with your eyes and mind open and your mouth closed, please."
Chiun repeated the stroll into the water and this time Remo saw that the back-and-forth motion of Chiun's arms at the sides of his body was setting up a pressure wall that literally pushed back the water from alongside him.
When Chiun came back, he said, "Did you see?"
"I certainly did," Remo said. "Do you know that Moses did that and he got five books in the Bible?"
To Chiun's unamused look, he quickly added, "Okay, Chiun, I liked it a lot. It was real nice."
"Nice?" Chiun shrieked. "A walk in a garden is nice. A cup of warm tea is nice. Clean underwear is nice. This? This is spectacular." His wispy white hair fluttered in the wind as he shook his head toward Remo.
"All right, Chiun. It's great," Remo said. "It must be terrific at beach parties."
"Do not patronize me, white thing," Chiun said. "This is a tool, not a source of amusement. With this, Wo Lee, the Nearly Great, once escaped an evil king by running through a pond of man-eating fish."
"Hold on. Wo Lee, the Nearly Great?" Remo asked.
"Yes. None other."
"Why was he 'the nearly great'?" Remo asked.
"Because he had the misfortune to select a pupil who did not pay attention."
"All right, enough. I'm paying attention. I just don't see a lot of practical value in being able to part the waters," Remo said.
"I thought it might be particularly helpful to you now that you've taken to loitering in damp caves with strange women," Chiun said. "Now you do it."
Just as Remo walked to the edge of the water, he heard his name called in a soft, pleasantly familiar voice. He turned to see Kim Kilev standing on one of the grass-capped dunes. Her aquablue swimsuit emphasized every curve of her fullbreasted supple body.