"She's loud, rude, and obnoxious."
"That's what you see in her?"
Chiun shrugged. "Doesn't everybody?"
"I'm not sure," Remo said, looking around the audience. He noticed an unusual number of Asians. Vietnamese. Their faces made shards of old memories dance in his head.
"She reminds me of the Korean jugglers at home," Chiun went on. "Every spring they paint their faces funny colors, throw on rags, and perform tricks for the villagers. Sometimes they pretend to be happy, and other times they weep like faucets."
"Like clowns?"
"Yes. That is the word. I couldn't think of it before. Thank you, Remo."
"I'm starting to get the picture," Remo said.
Up on stage, Copra Inisfree grabbed a microphone and boomed out a greeting. "Today we have a very important show for you, people. I know I promised pets of Vietnam POW's for today, but I have something even better. Our guest is a very brave Vietnamese gentleman who walked barefoot across the war zones of two countries to share his remarkable story with us. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cung Co Phong."
The audience applauded. The Master of Sinanju laughed deliriously. He continued laughing even after the applause died down. Several annoyed faces turned to glower at him. Most of them were Vietnamese.
"Why are you laughing, Little Father?" Remo whispered.
"Because she is so funny. Did you not get the joke about the brave Vietnamese person? A Vietnamese-brave. Heh, heh. Who ever heard of such a thing? Heh, heh, heh!"
"I think she was serious."
"Nonsense, Remo," Chiun said, composing his kimono skirts. "She is never serious. Her job is to make us laugh. She is Copra the Clown. Listen."
Remo settled in his seat as a short, wiry man stepped onto the stage, shook Copra's hand with a nervous smile, and sat down.
"Before we get into the meat of what you have to tell us, Phong, why don't you repeat for the studio audience what you told me backstage?"
"I come from Vietnam," Phong said slowly.
"We got that part, hon. Skip over to the juicy stuff."
"My English not good. I learn from Americans in work camp."
"Whoa, that's slipping too far ahead. Just tell us about your life in Vietnam."
"I born during war," Phong said carefully. "Both parents work for South Vietnamese government. Both put in camp when I young. I left on own. I try to leave Vietnam. Not have money to pay boat captain. Caught. They say I traitor. Put me in work camp. Later, I am taken to other camp, where Americans are."
"We'll get to that in a minute," Copra said quickly. "Tell us about your escape from Vietnam."
"I stab guard. Run very far, then walk. I walk through Cambodia. Then I take boat. Try to reach Malaysia, but I turn back because of pirates. When I on land again, I find out am in Thailand. Go to relocation camp. Tell story, but no one believe. Everyone say Vietnamese always talk of MIA to get to America. Say I lie. I no lie. I tell truth. I escape to tell world the truth, to get help for my American friends. Americans very good to me in camp. Share rice."
Chiun chuckled. "Did you hear that, Remo? A Vietnamese telling the truth. Heh, heh. It is against their nature."
"I don't believe him either," Remo said sullenly. "This is a trick. He made up that story just to get on TV. There are no Americans left in Vietnam. None alive, anyway. "
"Then why are you not laughing?" asked Chiun.
"Because I don't think it's funny."
"Perhaps you do not appreciate ethnic humor like me."
"I don't appreciate lies. Or people who misuse the memory of dead Americans to get ahead."
Up on the stage, Copra Inisfree jumped up excitedly. Bangles on her wrists tinkled and she toyed with a multicolored scarf that concealed at least two chins.
"Now, before I let Phong tell his story, and it's an exciting one, believe me, I have a story to tell. I found this man in a resettlement camp, and when I heard his story, it was so wonderful, I just couldn't wait to get him on the air. I even agreed to sponsor him in America. And as some of you heard on the news this morning, we were attacked at the Los Angeles airport. We don't know by whom. We're not sure why, but we're pretty sure it was by someone who didn't want Phong to tell his story. Fortunately, no one was killed. Thank God. But several people were wounded and I myself was bruised during the attack."
The audience broke into applause. They cheered Copra's bravery.
"Thank you, thank you," Copra said, waving her bangled hands. "But I am not the hero here. Phong is the hero. Now, Phong," she said, turning to the bewildered Vietnamese, "tell us the truly amazing part of your story."
"In second work camp, I meet Americans. They fought in war. Still there. POW's."
"What were their names, Phong? Do you remember?"
"One man Boyette, another go by Pond. Then there Colletta, McCain, and Wentworth. And one man, black like you, name of Youngblood."
Remo, who had stopped trying to see over the heads of the studio audience, suddenly sat up in his chair.
"I knew a Youngblood over in Nam. A black guy." His voice was strange.
"Rooty-toot-toot," said Chiun, who was growing impatient. Copra Inisfree had not said anything funny in many minutes.
"How long did you know these men?" Phong was asked.
"Two years. I brought to camp because I know little English. Camp political officer, Captain Dai, he try make me spy on Americans. Tell if they try escape. I not do. Captain Dai get angry. Say he break me, but I stubborn. Not give in. He throw me in hut with Americans. They befriend me and so I become their friend too. "
"That all changed a month or so ago, didn't it?" Copra asked.
"Yes. Captain Dai wake us up in night. Camp being moved. We wonder what happening. They put us in conex-long box-take away on truck. Americans think they die, but I know different. I make deal with them. I escape. Promise to come to America, tell world, and get help."
"Now, how do we know you're telling the truth?"
"Have proof," said Phong.
"Now, here it comes, folks. What you're about to see isn't a Vietnamese strip-tease act, but actual, confirmable proof that U. S. soldiers are being held against their will in Vietnam. Show us, Phong."
Phong stood up and gave the audience a polite little bow. He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair. He undid the cuffs of his shirt and removed it.
"Are you ready for this?" Copra said. "Camera, get ready to come in close on this. This is live television, folks. You're about to see history being made. Go for it, Phong baby!"
Phong started to turn around.