"Two members of our scientific staff were shot at down at Alpha Camp. That's where the copa-ibas are."
"Dead?"
46
"No. One of them, a man named Brack, apparently had a slight flesh wound. He's at the infirmary now."
"Did they catch who did it?" asked Remo.
"No. They got away clean. I'm going up there now. You want to come?"
"Yes."
"What should I tell them you are?" .
"Some kind of tree inspector," Remo said. "Look on that paper."
Stacy picked up the paper from his desk. "A tree reclamation technician," he read. "That's a laugh."
"I used to climb a lot of trees when I was a kid," Remo said.
"I don't think you could tell a tree from a telephone pole," Stacy said.
"Since when does that stop anybody from being a tree expert for the feds?" Remo asked. "Tell them my uncle was a ward leader in Jersey City. That'll explain everything."
Stacy sighed.
The Jeep station wagon was painted electric-magenta. For the past fifteen minutes it had been climbing up and down, but mostly up, the side of a heavily forested mountain. After four desultory efforts to start a conversation, Roger Stacy had given up and slouched into as much of a sulk as he could manage while he was driving. In the bucket seat next to him, Remo quietly watched the road and the woods.
The Jeep came around a cutback in the road and started to climb again.
"I'll be damned," Stacy said aloud. Remo looked at him. Stacy was pointing toward the front of the Jeep.
47
"Up there. Up ahead. Just where the road cuts back again. On the right-hand side of the road."
Remo had already seen what Stacy was trying to point out.
"I don't see anything," he said.
"It's gone now," Stacy said. "Hold on."
He shifted the wagon into four-wheel drive and stepped on the gas. The Jeep surged forward and slewed around the cutback. Halfway up the road to the next cutback, a tiny yellow figure with wisps of white hair, dressed in a flowing green kimono, with a bedroll slung across his shoulders, was moving along in an amble that approached a run.
"I'll be damned," Stacy said again. "Do you see that? Do you see that?"
"I see it," Remo said.
Stacy tapped the gas pedal again, and the vehicle leaped forward, passing the moving figure. He yanked the wheel hard to the right and the wagon spun toward the side of the mountain. At the last moment, he slammed on the brakes and the Jeep stopped ten feet in front of the walker, blocking his path. Stacy leaped out of the driver's seat and started for him.
The old man came to a halt, smiled benevolently at Stacy, and bowed from the waist. Stacy reached out to grab the man and somehow, he later decided, he must have slipped because^the next thing he knew, he was picking himself up from the frozen roadway. The old man had walked around the purple Jeep and was meandering calmly up the hill. Stacy started to run after him but took only two steps when the pain in his side and lower back brought him to a trembling stop. "You," he half yelled and half gasped. "You." The old man turned to face him.
48
"You wish to speak to me?"
"You," Stacy gulped and hobbled forward. "You." "My name is Chiun. I am the Master of Sinanju. Stop pointing at me. It's not polite."
As he-passed the Jeep, Stacy hissed to Remo, "Get out of there and let's get this guy. He probably did the shooting."
Remo shook his head. "He didn't shoot anybody." "How do you know?" Stacy demanded. "He doesn't shoot. He says that guns spoil the purity of the art."
\"Oh," said Stacy, who had no idea what any of that meant. He was near Chiun again. "You're the master of what?" he asked.
"Sinanju," said Chiun.
"I don't »care what you call yourself the master of. This is private property. You can't walk around in here. What are you doing here anyway?"
He started to grab for Chiun again, but Remo stepped in front of him. "That's not healthy," Remo told him. Stacy started to move around him, but found that Remo, without apparently moving, had blocked his way again. They danced a couple of steps before Stacy, his eyes swimming with the pain in his side and back, stopped moving, bent over in the road, and threw up. When he had stopped retching, he pulled himself ramrod straight and pointed a finely cared-for finger at Chiun and said, "You. I want you out of my forest. Now. Do you understand?"
Chiun looked at Remo. "Does this one always shout like that?" he asked. "Guess so," Remo said. "I am glad I will be in the woods," Chiun said.
49
"Capture him," Stacy yelled at Remo. "Let's see what he's got in that bedroll. I'll bet we find a gun."
"No," said Remo. "You'll find a mat, a Cinzano ashtray, and a stolen pack of matches."
"Only because some ingrate refused to pack for me and to let me bring my few belongings with me," Chiun explained.
"Why a Cinzano ashtray?" Stacy asked Remo.
"He always carries a Cinzano ashtray. I don't know why," Remo said.
"Well, if you won't stop him, I will," Stacy said. "Careful, old man. I've got my black belt in karate."
"It didn't seem to do you much good before," Remo said.
"What do you mean?"
"He laid you out flat without even moving," Remo said.
"Nonsense." Stacy said. "I slipped; that was all. The footing on this road is treacherous." He looked again at Chiun and this time saw behind the benign peacefulness in the old man's eyes; there was something chilling and cold in the eyes and in the set of the face. He leaned toward Remo.
"You know this guy?" he asked.