Warren Murphy: Unnatural Selection

"You signed on with Smith for five more years?"

"It was during our time in Sinanju. My last official act as Reigning Master was to negotiate our contract."

"Five freaking years?" Remo demanded.

"You said yourself in one year you would forget what Smith had done. Knowing your wandering mind, one month would probably suffice. Think of how much more you will have forgotten it in five years." He held up a hand, halting Remo's protests. "Best of all, our current contract gives us our loophole."

"I keep telling you there is no loophole," Remo groused. "Sinanju tradition forbids a Master from serving his Emperor's successor. According to that rule, we can't work for Howard if Smith goes belly up. End of story."

"I may not work for his successor," Chiun said craftily. "You, on the other hand, are another story. I signed a long-term contract with Smith as my final official act as Reigning Master. Until the moment you assumed Reigning Masterhood, you were technically my apprentice. That is how you are referred to in our current contract, which remains in force as long as I live. Tradition says nothing about a Master's successor signing an all-new contract with the successor of his Master's Emperor. When Smith passes, you may sign with Howard without having defied tradition." Remo opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. He started again, but again he said nothing. Finally he tipped his head, nodding. "Dammit, you old shyster, you found a loophole." Remo sighed loudly. "Still, I don't like to be nailed down for that long. But it's been six months since we were in Sinanju, so that leaves just over four years. I guess I can put up with four more years."

"Bearing in mind that there are option years built into the contract," Chiun warned.

"Sweet mother of mercy," Remo said.

"But when the option runs out, you will get to negotiate the next contract all by yourself."

"Swell. I'm really looking forward to the year 3000," Remo said.

"Of course, as Reigning Master Emeritus, I may intervene in the event that you plan to sign something stupid," Chiun warned.

Remo wanted to laugh. Instead, he sat in silence, staring at his hands. Chiun sensed the disharmony in his pupil.

"What is wrong, my son?" the old man asked.

"I don't know," Remo said. "It's kind of odd. It's like for the moment we're right back to where we always are, with contracts and arguing and you telling me I'm stupid. But things are going to be different now. I'm Reigning Master, you've got an eye on that retirement cave back in Sinanju, Smitty's got that kid helping him out. Everything's changing. I kind of don't want it to end."

At this, a smile cracked the aged face of the Reigning Master of Sinanju Emeritus.

"End?" Chiun scoffed. "You are worried about endings? So many years have we been together, so many things have we seen. You have had so many days of running hither and yon for your Emperor, so many nights of adventure that you have become jaded, Remo Williams. You think because you have seen much that you have seen everything? You think this is the end? I tell you this. It is only the beginning."

Remo wasn't convinced. "I guess you're right, Little Father," he said with an uncertain shrug.

"Of course I am," the Master of Sinanju insisted. Leaning forward, he smiled knowingly. "Stay tuned."

And with a sadness touched with hope, Remo turned his face to the morning sun.

EPILOGUE

Dr. Jesus Avalos of the Los Angeles Women's Crisis Health Center would have known something was different about this patient even without reading her chart.

The woman lying on the table in the examining room didn't seem like the usual WCHC patient. Sadly, most who came through the front doors of the free clinic had not achieved much in life, financially or in the way of education. But this particular patient seemed intelligent and articulate. According to the form she'd filled out in the waiting room, she didn't smoke, drink or do drugs and-from what Dr. Avalos could tell-she had no visible tattoos.

That last one was the biggest miracle these days. As he applied the gel to her exposed belly, he tried to remember his last patient who hadn't risked HIV and hepatitis by taking a dozen trips to the tattoo parlor. In his less politically correct moments, he wondered how it was that people who relied on federal handouts for their daily bread could afford to get permanent ink disfigurements on their ankles and asses. Maybe tattoo parlors had started taking food stamps.

"You're not from the neighborhood," Dr. Avalos said as rolled the sonogram to the side of the table.

"No," the woman replied.

Her voice was deep, rolling and soft all at once. There was something very feminine and just a little dangerous about her. Dr. Avalos felt drawn to her for some reason.

He tried to keep his mind on work.

"What brings you to us?" he asked. "Besides the obvious, of course."

"I'm leaving the country tomorrow and I want to make sure it's safe to fly."

Dr. Avalos nodded understanding. He pressed the probe to her belly and turned his attention to the monitor.

"Oh, my," he said after a moment. "This wasn't natural."

She didn't say a word. Just smiled a knowing smile.

Dr. Avalos turned his attention away from the monitor. He wore a deeply concerned expression.

"Is your partner here today?" he asked. These days it wasn't safe to assume a husband or even a gender. "There are some important issues you should consider."

"No," she said. "Luckily, he thinks he gave me a cupful of duds, so he won't come snooping around. Most humans have no idea the miracles you can achieve with just a few drops of frozen blood and skin from under a fingernail." Again the knowing smile.

Dr. Avalos wasn't sure what she meant. Nor did he know why he seemed drawn to this woman. There was something about her. Like perfume, but without odor.

The doctor, cleared his throat. "I'll be blunt, even though you've probably heard this before. It would be safer to reduce the number of babies. Two or three would be better to insure healthy births."

His patient looked at him coldly. "No," she said. He directed her attention to the sonogram. "There's at least six heartbeats." With a pen he pointed to a tiny smudge on the monitor. "Maybe seven. I think that one up there might be another one. Multiple births are risky."

"They'll all be fine," she assured him. "I was designed to carry more than one at a time." She took his hand. "I'm not like other women."

He knew he should pull away. This wasn't proper. He could lose his job, his license. But the odor that couldn't be smelled filled his head with indecent thoughts. There was something beguiling about this woman. Almost as if pregnancy were releasing pheromones he was finding impossible to resist. Of course that couldn't be the case.

The woman stroked his hand.

"We can discuss it over dinner tonight," she said. Dr. Avalos glanced at the examining-room door, making certain it was closed.

"I'm not sure it would be appropriate to have dinner with a clinic patient," he whispered. In his head he was already making the reservations.

His patient smiled.

"I didn't say you'd be eating," purred Judith White.