"They'll let us know when they find him," Mary Melissa assured Remo. "In the meantime, it appears we have a little time to kill . . . ." She uncrossed her legs. In the briefest flash, Remo could see that she wore nothing under her skirt. "What do you think we should do?"
It was clearly an invitation.
Remo knew what he should be doing. He knew he should be collaring Chiun and getting out of this dead end. But as usual Chiun had some weird ideas of his own, and besides, there was something about Mary Melissa Mercy that Remo was finding strangely fascinating.
He wondered what color her eyes were.
The Master of Sinanju wandered aimlessly. Eventually, he would rejoin Remo and report that somehow the trail to the poisoners led to some other distant point. Tokyo, possibly. Remo would certainly believe that the Japanese were poisoning American ducks without further explanation. It would fit Remo's perception of the Japanese, as fostered by the Master of Sinanju's sage instruction.
Perhaps he could even entice him to Sinanju, eventually.
There, they would bide their time and draw strength until they were in a better position to strike back at the gyonshi menace. For now, it was too soon.
The Master of Sinanju's meanderings through the Three-G complex brought him to the very heart of the building. He had been drawn to this place by a scent.
It was most curious. At first he had thought his senses were playing tricks on him, but then he realized how ludicrous a thought that was. The rotten odor was pouring down the brightly lit hallways, drawing him to this place. Along with the numerous flies.
It was a garden as rich in beauty as any of ancient times.
It nestled in the center of the building, surrounded on three sides by walls of glass. Some of the trees were too large to have been planted here since the building's construction. The builders must have taken care to stack their sheets of glass around the existing plant life.
The flowers, plants, and herbs were glorious and gigantic. The colors were lush and lovely. The smell was nearly overwhelming.
The Master of Sinanju walked past rows of giant sunflowers, hanging orchids, clinging vines, and leaves so thick and full they reminded him of a tropical rain forest.
He peered up to the top of the Three-G building, and at the afternoon sky above it. Chiun stroked his wisp of a beard appreciatively. The structure, while ugly in the way that most Western architecture was ugly, did at least serve some function. The cunning design of the reflective walls made this place a most effective atrium.
Even in his state of discomfiture, Chiun was pleasantly surprised to find something of such rare beauty in such a barbaric land.
His pace livened, as he followed a gravelly path through a copse of gnarled birch trees to a cluster of blooming lilacs.
The massive shell of a dead oak tree slouched at the end of the path. It was black, but speckled with a million crawling red ants. Great sheets of bark had peeled away and littered the ground in decaying heaps. Its thick, barren branches clawed longingly at the sunlight.
Near the tree, Chiun bent at the waist to take in the beautiful aroma of the flowering shrubs. He pulled it deep into the pit of his stomach and released. He was about to inhale a second time when he noticed it.
There was a scent under that of the lilacs.
Chiun's nose wrinkled as he smelled it.
He stepped up from the path to the raised mound from which the lilacs grew, then passed through them, coming upon the tree trunk from the north side.
He saw the soft mound of overturned earth first. Not quite as large around as a manhole cover. It was positioned between two claws of gigantic black root. It had been there nearly a month, by Chiun's calculations.
A wide crevice spread twenty feet up the rotted trunk of the tree. The Master of Sinanju knew what he would find even before he looked up. When he did lift his eyes, a ghastly vision stared back at him.
Several feet up the trunk, nestled in the moist and crumbling fissure, the skeleton of Gregory Green Gideon peered down at him. The bones were bleached white, and the lipless mouth smiled all thirty-two teeth at him in a clean, shining skull.
The gyonshi burial method. This was the ceremonial manner in which they disposed of their victims.
The gyonshi were here. All around him.
With a coldness settling deep in the pit of his stomach, the Master of Sinanju realized he had delivered not only himself, but Remo, into their clutches.
Mary Melissa Mercy had removed her right-hand glove. She was drawing the nail of her index finger along Remo Williams' back. Not the sharpened edge, but the outside of the cuticle. She had done this several times, so that he would be used to the caress of the nail. So that he would not anticipate her attack.
Then quickly and carefully, there would be a single jab. As the Leader had commanded. He would be vulnerable to it by then. For she had been cautioned that the gweilo of the Sinanju master had many tricks in his repertoire.
It would be easy. Separate and conquer. First, the gweilo. Then the hated Master of Sinanju.
She was just about to do the deed when the ceiling-to-floor window collapsed in a pile of glittering shards.
It splintered from top to bottom with a massive cracking sound, and the pieces fell in an impossibly delicate sheet, like a waterfall, settling in perfect slopes on either side of the frame.
Through the barely scattered debris whirled the Master of Sinanju.
Recoiling, Mary Melissa Mercy pushed her fiery mane off her forehead and buried her fingernails out of sight in its follicle fire.
"Remo, we will leave," Chiun said imperiously.
"I'm kind of in the middle of something here, Chiun," Remo said pointedly.
Chiun dug his fingers into a cluster of nerves at the base of Remo's spine, and Remo suddenly had about as much interest in Mary Melissa Mercy as in reading the financial page of The Wall Street Journal.
Remo's face became twisted in anger and confusion. "What's going on, Chiun?" he demanded. "Besides sandbagging my social life?"
"You are welcome," said Chiun, but his cold eyes were trained on Mary Melissa Mercy, who sat open-legged and red-lipped atop her desk, her eyes unreadable behind iridescent green sunglasses. Without a word, she slipped from the room.
Remo wheeled on the Master of Sinanju.
"How the ding-Bong hell did you find me in here, anyway?" he growled.
The Master of Sinanju shrugged frail shoulders. "It was not difficult. I merely followed the flies," Chiun stepped toward the door, threw it open, and said, "It is time to go."
"Since when?"
"The poisoners are not here," Chiun admitted.
"Oh, big surprise," said Remo. "When did that come in over the wire service?"
"We shall seek them elsewhere," said Chiun, flouncing through the open door. "Come."
"Not in this lifetime," Remo grumbled, following dutifully.
Chapter 13
Favio "Buster Thumbs" Briassoli expected trouble. He had been expecting trouble ever since he'd returned to Little Italy and the service of Don Pietro Scubisci.