"How do you know? I mean, how can you tell what's going on in their minds?" asked Remo.
"Our satellites have photographed the new missile bases, so we know they exist. But we haven't picked up any trace of a response mechanism. That's a system that has several layers of checks and counterchecks built into it, so that the missiles are fired only after certain preconditions are met, including a determination that the country has been attacked. It's fairly easy to read from outer space. All we have to do is pick up the electronic signals created by the response mechanism. But this new command doesn't have any of that. They have one phone line and a backup. It's what we call a raw button."
"A what?"
"The only thing you can do with those damned missiles is launch them. There is no waiting for confirmation, no protection against incoming missiles, no launch codes. Nothing. They are already aimed and await the press of a single button. All they need to start World War III is one phone call, and dammit, the way their phones work, a thunderstorm could set off that call."
"We burn either slow from the sun or fast from the Russians," said Remo.
"Exactly," said Smith.
"So what do we do? Where do you want us to go?"
"You wait. Both of you. The entire world is watching the skies for those crazies to try streaming fluorocarbons again. If they do, we'll get a fix on them, and then you two move in. No holds barred. Don't wait for anything. There aren't two people I would rather have between the human race and extinction than you. The President feels the same way. I just hope another incident won't set the Russians off. I never have understood them, and I understand them even less now."
"Of course," said Chiun. He always understood the calculated moves of the Russians, but could never remotely fathom Smith and his democracy.
"I do. You know," Remo said slowly, "sometimes I think what we do doesn't matter. Not as much as I'd like it to matter. But this does. You know, it makes me glad to be alive to do this. It's saving the world, I guess."
"Don't guess," said Smith. "It is."
"And it shall be recorded that the great Emperor Harold Smith did perform the wondrous act of saving the world through a trainee of the House of Sinanju."
"I am glad you feel that way, Master of Sinanju," said Smith. "By the way, there was a small problem with your gold tribute. But we will reship it."
"What? What problem?" asked Chiun. His delicate head cocked so suddenly that the wisps of white hair at his ears and chin quivered.
"The submarine carrying your gold surfaced five miles off Sinanju, in the West Korean Bay, as always. On the same day and at the appointed hour, as always. In agreement with the North Korean government, as always."
"Yes, yes," said Chiun eagerly.
"Would you like some water, Smitty?" asked Remo. He looked as though he could use some. The tribute to Sinanju would only pile up in that house above the village, so it was not of great importance to Remo that there was a delay of sorts. Smith did look especially worried by this, but they would be able to reship, of course.
"Shhh, fool." Chiun to Remo. Smith said he didn't need the water. "The gold. The gold," said Chiun.
"We have tea," suggested Remo.
"The gold."
"Well, it's nothing serious," said Smith. "Usually someone from your village rows out to meet the sub and collect our yearly tribute to the House of Sinanju which pays for your services as Remo's trainer. This time no one came."
"They must," cried Chiun. "They have always done it."
"This time, they didn't. But we will reship."
"Reship? My loyal villagers did not appear to claim the tribute that has sustained Sinanju for centuries, and you will reship?"
"What's the big deal, Chiun?" said Remo. "You've got so much tribute in that place that one year's gold isn't going to make much difference."
"The village starves without the tributes earned by the Master of Sinanju. The babies will have to be sent home to the sea by their weeping mothers, as it was done in the days before the Masters of Sinanju hired themselves out as assassins to prevent that very thing."
"That hasn't happened since the House worked for the Ming Dynasty in China. They can live off that treasure alone for a thousand years."
"We'll reship a double payment," said Smith in an uncharacteristic gesture of generosity. That told Remo more than anything else that Smith really feared for the survival of the planet.
Chiun rose in a single smooth movement, entering the bedroom like the wind.
"What happened? What's gotten into him?" asked Smith.
"I think he may be upset. That treasure is kinda important to him," Remo said. "I've seen it. Some of it is priceless. Mint coins from Alexander the Great. Rubies. Emeralds. Ivory. Gorgeous stuff. And a lot of it's junk, too. Things they used to think of as precious that aren't anymore. Like aluminum, when it first came out, centuries ago before it could be manufactured. They have gobs of aluminum. I've seen it right there beside a case of diamonds. Really. The diamonds are off to the side."
"It's all right that we're going to double the shipment, isn't it? I mean, how could he object?" asked Smith.
Remo shrugged. "Some things even I don't understand yet."
But when Chiun reappeared in a dark gray flecked robe, his face grave as a statue, hands folded within his sleeves and thick-soled sandals on his feet, Remo Williams knew that the Master of Sinanju was leaving. This was his traveling robe. But his trunks were not packed.
"Little Father, you can't leave now," Remo said in Korean. "The world may go up."
"The world is always being destroyed. Look at Nineveh. Look at Pompeii. Look at the Great Flood. The world is always destroyed, but gold goes on forever. And the ancient treasure of the House of Sinanju, which has survived catastrophes without number, may well be in danger."
"I can't go with you, Chiun," said Remo. "I have to stay here."
"And betray your responsibility as the next Master of Sinanju? A Master must protect the treasure."
"If there is no world left, where are you going to spend it?"
"One can always spend gold," said Chiun. "I have taught you strokes, Remo. I have trained you to fulfill the potential of your mind and of your body. I have made you strong, and I have made you quick. Most of all I have made you an assassin, one of a long line of honorable assassins. I have taught you all these things when I should have taught you wisdom. I have bequeathed the power of Sinanju to a fool." This in Korean. This said with rage.
So angered was he that the Master of Sinanju left the suite without giving a formal bow to his emperor. "Where did he go?" asked Smith, who did not understand Korean.
"Did you notice that he didn't give you a proper farewell?"
"Yes, I thought it seemed briefer than usual. Does that mean anything?"
"He just said good-bye," Remo said quietly. Without thinking, he dropped to a lotus position on the floor, easily and smoothly with the legs joining like petals as he had been taught so many years before.
"I am sorry. I had hoped to use him, too, in this crisis. Well, we still have you and that's the important thing. When he comes back, we'll use him."
"I don't know if he is coming back," said Remo. "You just got a good-bye."
"And you? Did he say good-bye to you?"
"I hope not. I really want to believe not," said Remo. And with soft, cutting motions, he tore up pieces of the thick pile carpet, not even noticing what his hands were doing.
"I am sure Chiun will return," said Smith. "There is an emotional bond between you two. Like a father and son."