"You wanna keep your voice down?" Remo whispered. At their seats now, he quickly sat down.
The Master of Sinanju frowned deeply. "I am shocked, Remo," he scolded. "I never took you for an appeaser. If none will speak in defense of this nation, then I will."
"Chiun-" Remo pleaded.
But the old man had already spun away.
Chiun raised his arms high. Kimono sleeves slipped down, revealing bony arms.
"Mud dwellers of the Mekong!" the Master of Sinanju announced. "Since you are Vietnamese, you are no doubt on some evil mission for your Hanoi lords. As a secret representative of this land, I command you to abandon whatever devious plot you are hatching and surrender yourselves to the proper authorities the instant this air vehicle lands. You will do this or bear the awesome wrath of the Master of Sinanju."
He opened the corner of his mouth to Remo. "Did I leave anything out?" he asked under his breath. By now Remo was slouched low in his seat and hiding behind an in-flight magazine.
"Just sit down," he implored, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Turning once more to the now very angry crowd, Chiun declared, "My son has told me to inform you that a kennel is not a buffet."
As the murmurs rose, loud and rancorous, the Master of Sinanju leaned over and slapped Remo on the knee. "Move your fat white feet," he commanded.
Scurrying over his pupil, he settled into the seat above the left wing.
"Thanks for making me part of the floor show," Remo growled.
The flight attendants had been either at the door or in the galley until now and had thus missed the action. Remo was grateful when the preflight activity took the focus away from him and the Master of Sinanju.
Once they were in the air, a friendly flight attendant came up the aisle. Since it was the Halloween season, she offered passengers a bowl filled to the brim with orange-and-yellow candy corn. Remo was surprised when the Master of Sinanju took two big handfuls. He was less surprised when the old Korean spent the rest of the flight pegging them at the heads of unsuspecting Vietnamese passengers.
When they landed in Orlando, those Asians unfortunate enough to have gotten on this flight rushed the exits, rubbing heads and crushing candy corn beneath their heels.
A shudder ran through the bottleneck at the door when Chiun and Remo approached. With fearful glances the crowd parted, hands firmly clasped to stinging scalps.
Chiun waded through the throng. "My son the unpatriotic American might not respect his culture," he sniffed as he passed, "but you may not have any of my Yankee Poodle Pie."
Remo was so grateful to finally be off the plane he kept his head down and his mouth screwed shut.
In the terminal they passed a busy bookstore. "Just a sec," Remo said to Chiun before ducking inside. He emerged two minutes later with a fresh stack of newspapers. As they walked, Remo slipped a pair of sewing scissors he'd just bought into his pocket. Though curious, Chiun refrained from comment as the two men made their way to the car rental.
In the parking lot Remo dumped the papers into the back seat of their rental.
According to Smith, the first spider sighting had taken place in the small town of Yuletide, twenty miles east of Orlando. Remo knew he should be worried when he saw the sign that welcomed tourists into town. On it, a pair of snowmen waved to passing cars. The border of the sign was decorated with plastic reindeer antlers.
Even though Halloween was less than a week away, there wasn't a pumpkin or ghost to be seen in town. The houses of Yuletide were hung with flashing red-and-green lights. Plastic Santas sat on lush green lawns.
"Why do I suddenly feel like Jack Skellington?" Remo asked as he eyed the Christmas decorations. In the passenger side of the car, the Master of Sinanju studied the festive landscape through suspicious slits.
"Have you people extended the season devoted to that busybody carpenter?" the old man asked.
"Not that I know of," Remo said. "Christmas season starts in August at the mall, but it usually doesn't spill out onto front lawns until November. They must take the Yuletide name seriously."
He parked the car and the two of them struck off on foot. As they walked, they saw parking meters shaped like candy canes and park benches that looked like holly-covered yule logs.
"No wonder the suicide rate goes up during the holidays," Remo said as they passed a papier-mache igloo. Around it, a family of painted penguins in scarfs and stocking hats were arranged in a frozen snowball fight.
The place they were looking for was on the corner. Other than a faded paper reindeer taped to the window, Santa's Package Store looked like a typical liquor store. The bell over the door tinkled as Remo and Chiun entered.
The grubby proprietor was sitting behind the grimy counter. He looked up sharply at the door. His tense face relaxed when he saw the two men who had just come inside.
"FBI," Remo announced. Walking to the counter, he offered the man his fake ID. "We're looking into last week's robbery."
The liquor store owner looked from Remo to Chiun. "Why's the FBI care?" he asked suspiciously. "Local cops think I'm crazy."
"From what I've seen of this town, you all got crack pipes as stocking stuffers," Remo said. "So what's the story?"
The man rubbed the beard stubble on his chin. "You better be on the level," he warned. "Now that there's been other cases, I'm getting calls to do all kinds of TV." He leaned forward on his stool. "It was last Friday night," he began. "Almost closing time. I was reading right here when I heard the bell over the door. When I looked up, I saw it."
"The spider," Remo said, his voice flat.
"Yeah," said the shopkeeper. He shuddered at the memory. "Thing was huge. Big as the doorway. It came crawling across the floor to the counter. I fell off my stool I was so scared. I'm lying back here on the floor when it reaches around with these big furry black legs and rips the cash drawer out of the register. By the time I got back up, it was gone."
Remo pointed to a security camera that was mounted high on the wall behind the counter. "What about that?"
"That's the weird part," the man explained. "After it took the cash drawer, it reached up and touched the camera. I don't know what it did, but when I checked the tape, there wasn't anything on it. It was all blank. Like it had been magnetized or something."
The store owner didn't see the deeply dubious expression on Remo's face.
Chiun had wandered over to the end of the nearest aisle. The old man was squatting next to an end-cap display that was piled high with cases of beer.
"What's with him?" the liquor store owner asked.
"He's a special consultant," Remo said. "The Bureau brings him in for the big stuff. Alien abductions, spider attacks, spontaneous telephone combustions."
The man was studying Chiun. "Just like the 'C-Files,'" he grunted. "I like that show."
"Not me," Remo said. The Master of Sinanju beckoned him with a long fingernail. "They've been stealing plots from us for years and we haven't seen dime one." He left the store owner, crossing over to Chiun.
"What have you got, Little Father?"
"There," the old Korean said, pointing to the floor. The beer cases were stacked on a low wooden palette. Following the Master of Sinanju's unfurled finger, Remo saw something small and black peeking out from between the dirty slats. It was as big around as a quarter and rested on an inch-thick pile of dust. Stooping, Remo picked up the object, holding it between thumb and forefinger. By the look of it, it had been chipped off something larger. The edges were jagged.
When he ran a finger across the dull black surface, Remo's face registered surprise. "What the hell?" Puzzled, he handed the fragment to Chiun.
When the old man touched the metal, he frowned. "There is no friction," the Master of Sinanju said. Remo nodded. He had barely felt the fragment. It was as if his finger was gliding over nothing at all. "You think it's spider spoor?" Remo asked.
"I do not know what it is." Chiun's weathered face was troubled. "Nor do I find comfort in the unknown."
The fragment had come from somewhere. And whatever it was, neither of them had encountered it before.