Warren Murphy: A Pound of Prevention

Bubu was swaying in place, his arms waving in time with a rhythm that was being tapped out on a primitive drum. Remo was again impressed by the native's innate grace.

Chief Batubizee stood near the younger man. The Luzu leader was smiling and clapping. Around Bubu a dozen Luzu women watched him dance with giggling glee.

"What's with the belle of the ball?" Remo asked, nodding to the young native.

"As eldest son of the chief, Bubu has his choice of consorts," the Master of Sinanju explained. Remo's head snapped around. "Bubu is Batubizee's kid?"

Chiun inspected his pupil's face. "Are you embarrassed now for making sport of his name?" Remo considered. "Not really," he admitted. "I'm just surprised no one mentioned it."

The Master of Sinanju leaned close. "Do you realize, Remo, that you saved the life of the chief's son?"

"What, in Bachsburg?" Remo shook his head "He was fine. I just pulled him out of the sewer."

Chiun pitched his voice low. "Do not allow silly modesty to ruin what is potentially a good thing," he said craftily. "You are now a hero to these people. For Bubu will one day succeed his father as ruler of all the Luzu. And if nothing else, the lesson of Nuk teaches us that the potential payday from the Luzu can be great indeed."

A faint smile crossed the face of the younger Master of Sinanju.

"Did I say something humorous?" Chiun asked.

"No, Little Father. It's just that I feel kind of good. You know, by helping Bubu I sort of helped their future." He waved an arm, encompassing the entire Luzu nation. "I was worried about saving the whole world before, but maybe I just need to save a little piece of it every now and then."

As he spoke, he fished absently in his pocket. He studied the carved face of the stone figure the small Korean boy had given him.

His thoughts were on the future. On his future.

"May I see that?"

Chiun's hushed voice shook him from his reverie. When Remo looked up, the harsh lines of his teacher's face were smooth.

"You seemed spooked by it before," Remo said, handing it over.

As he studied the figure, a hint of an unfamiliar emotion passed across the old man's weathered face. "Surprised, that is all," Chiun replied softly. "I have not seen a carving like this in many years."

"You've seen one before?" Remo asked, surprised.

Chiun nodded. "I have many of them stored in a chest in the Master's House in Sinanju. I have not looked at them in a long, long time." His voice grew faraway. "My son Song used to carve them with his nails for the children of the village." The old man had taken years to tell Remo about Song, his son and first pupil who had died in training. And in that moment, Remo understood the true identity of the Master Who Never Was.

"I thought you said Song was almost nine when he died," Remo said quietly. "The boy I saw couldn't have been older than six."

When Chiun looked up, there was flitting sadness in his hazel eyes. But when he beheld the deeply sympathetic face of his pupil, his smile returned. "The Void reflects your true self," he explained. "My son who died was younger than his years because I tried to force him to grow up too quickly. It gladdens me to know that, in death, he is enjoying the childhood that I in my stubbornness would not permit him to have." He started to hand the figure back.

Remo shook his head. "You should keep it," he insisted.

But the old Korean shook his head. "I told you, I have others. This was a gift from my son in flesh to my son in spirit. Treasure always this gift from your brother, Remo."

He pressed the small stone into Remo's palm. Nodding, Remo replaced it in his pocket.

For a moment, he took out baby Karen's crucifix. A small rectangle of yellow paper fluttered to the ground.

As he studied the cross, the world suddenly seemed less cruel than it had just a few short days before. With but a ghost of lingering sadness, he started to put the cross away. Before he could, there came a gasp beside him.

"What is that?" the Master of Sinanju demanded. Remo braced himself, preparing for the usual carping about his latent Christianity.

"It's just a cross, Little Father," Remo said.

"Not that pagan idol," Chiun spit. "That. "

An accusing finger pointed to the piece of paper lying in the dirt. Remo gathered it up.

"Oh," he said. "It's my check from Deferens for the Batubizee hit."

"You accepted a check?" Chiun gasped. "A mere promise of payment? Remo, tear out my heart that I might not feel the agony of the knife you have driven into it." He pressed a hand against his chest.

"Oh, can the bad acting," Remo said, suppressing a grin. "Besides, I had him up to six million in gold."

"A likely story," the old man countered. Remo's face suddenly grew crafty. "While we're at it, how much did you get paid for all this?"

Chiun's back stiffened. "None of your business," he retorted. "And we are talking about you, not me. Do you not yet know that a check is even worse than government bills? It is a paper promise of more paper. Oh, the shame, Remo."

"It's not even like I ever intended to cash it," Remo said. Crumpling the check, he tossed it away. Before it hit the ground, a long-nailed hand snatched it from the air. Chiun laid the paper on his knee, smoothing it flat.

"We will stop at a bank as soon as we return to Bachsburg," the Master of Sinanju sniffed as he secreted the check into the folds of his kimono.

"Oh, no, we won't," Remo said. "I'm not endorsing that."

"That is not a problem," Chiun replied, fussing at his kimono sleeves. "In East Africa, baboons are known to come out of the jungle into inhabited areas."

"So what?" Remo asked warily.

Chiun raised a bemused eyebrow. "I will give a pen to one of them. Surely they can duplicate the jumble of scratches that constitute your signature."

Chapter 40

Luzuland, East Africa (AP)-An as yet unexplained underground tremor rocked this northern tribal homeland early this morning. Seismologists from nearby Bachsburg have been sent to investigate.

Preliminary reports indicate that the small earthquake has caused a slight shift in tectonic plates. As a result, a previously unknown underground river has broken through to the surface, flooding the manmade channels of an ancient irrigation system built during the days of the old Luzu Empire.

The inexplicable phenomenon, occurring as it has in a region not prone to seismic activity, has lent hope to the indigenous tribesmen. Chief Batubizee, leader of the Luzu tribe, has expressed confidence that this fresh supply of water will revive the formerly rich farmland of his ancient empire. When that day comes, the chief has promised that all debts incurred by the Luzu nation will be paid in full.