Warren Murphy: Misfortune Teller

DeSouza shook his head. "Do you have any identification to back up your claim?"

The man stepped onto the bridge. He walked slowly, hands still raised above his head. "Idiot!" he spit. "Is not this uniform identification enough? When I went on my secret mission to the North, I buried it not far from here in the event of just such an emergency. Now I order you to let me pass."

He was at the idling truck and still coming. The men around DeSouza were tensing, guns trained on the lone intruder. Some looked to the colonel for orders. The rest stared coldly at the general.

"I'm sorry, General, but I can't do that."

The man was beyond the truck by now. He was nearly over to the other side of the bridge. He stopped only a few yards away from DeSouza.

"The North is about to drop a bomb on your fool head!" the general screamed.

He stabbed a finger into the darkening northwestern sky.

Colonel DeSouza followed the frantic gesture. He saw that a new star had appeared in the sky.

No, two. But they were not stars. With sudden horror, he realized all at once what the swiftmoving objects were.

"Incoming!" DeSouza screamed, racing from the bridge.

The South Korean general was forgotten as the men scrambled for cover. As the rockets from the frigate Chosun roared in, the Reverend Man Hyung Sun threw his hands down. Running in his baggy South Korean army general's uniform, he scrambled into an American jeep.

Steering away from the imminent explosion, he raced down the road away from the DMZ.

THE AIR AROUND THEM crackled with electricity. The men who had gathered around as the two Masters of Sinanju squared off felt the hair at the backs of their necks rise from the palpable energy being thrown off by the only human beings on the face of the planet trained to the limits of their physical and mental capacities.

Neither of them had yet struck a blow. It was like some friction-causing dance that would go on and on until the energy level became so unbearable that the built-up power would have to be released.

To the spectators, the younger Master of Sinanju seemed strong and agile, but the old Master exuded a sense of quiet confidence and grace.

At the center of the crowd, Remo washed slowly around the flawlessly artful movements of his mentor.

Chiun had yet to attack. One thing was certain-Remo would be damned if he'd be the one to strike the first blow. If Chiun was so sure of his allegiance to Man Hyung Sun, he would have to be the first to lash out. Only then would Remo defend himself. But so far, Chiun had not fired a fist.

The surge of raw, violent power welling up around them was beginning to throw off Remo's senses. His nervous system was so finely tuned that it could not long take exposure to the kind of unseen dynamic energy that was produced by another Master of Sinanju. It was like putting a magnet next to a compass.

Expecting an attack, they had both cranked up their senses to the limit. When one did not materialize, they still could not tune down their level of preparedness, lest in relaxing either one of them would leave himself open to an assault from the other.

Remo was beginning to sweat. Across the cold plain, he could see beads of perspiration break out on the furrowed parchment forehead of the Master of Sinanju.

They were both beginning to tire.

Remo felt dizzy. He tried to concentrate the awkward sensation away.

Chiun suddenly stumbled over a small stone that was jutting from the frozen mud. He caught his balance quickly, resuming his deliberate circuit around Remo. Though he did not otherwise show it, the point was made. He was feeling as lightheaded as Remo.

The parked cars swept up behind Remo as the two men pirouetted around one another. He felt the crowd, more dense at his back toward the road.

Ordinarily, he would have been able to hear and sort every individual heartbeat within the multitude. Here, they were just background noise. A cacophony of thudding.

He circled back around. Chiun was now moving toward the road. They were almost to the point where both of them were parallel to the stretch of desolate roadway when Remo's senses picked up something from the string of army vehicles.

It was an odd sensation. Something concentrated, directed at him.

No. Beyond him now.

As Chiun moved toward the road, Remo realized that whatever had been focussed on him was now aimed at Chiun.

He was straining too hard. It was too difficult to push his senses farther than Chiun. He was about to shift his attention solely back to the Master of Sinanju when he heard a distinct metallic sound. It spurred him to action.

Without warning, Remo lunged at Chiun.

The Master of Sinanju seemed genuinely shocked that Remo would actually attack him. His almond-shaped eyes opened wide as he prepared a defensive blow. But there was no defense to what Remo next did.

Using every ounce of Sinanju-trained strength and energy in its most crude form, Remo flung himself clumsily atop Chiun. The two men toppled in an awkward bundle to the frozen rice paddy.

A lone bullet sang over both their heads.

As the rifle crackled through the wasteland, the fascinated crowd scattered in a panic. The collection of men-including the president and premier-ran for cover behind various vehicles.

"Get off, lummox!" the Master of Sinanju demanded. He batted and pushed Remo off him.

Another shot rang out. Remo threw himself back on top of Chiun, pushing both of their bodies to one side as he did so. The second bullet thudded into the earth where they had been.

"This is inexcusable!" Chiun shrieked. He kicked Remo away, scampering quickly to his feet. "Why do you leap on me like a perverted ox?"

"I was saving your life," Remo growled.

A few more shots rang out. The friction that had been building between them was now broken. With their senses back to normal, the latest volleys were easily avoided by both men.

"You were doing no such thing, for I am about to die of embarrassment. Have I trained you to be Bulk Hogan?"

"I figured you'd thank me. I know you were too far away to sense him."

"I was no such thing," Chiun sniffed. He adjusted his kimono skirts with fussing agitation.

"Whatever," Remo replied, annoyed.

They turned in unison to see who it was who had started taking potshots at them. Remo was not completely surprised to spot Rim Kun Soe bracing a rifle against the hood of a parked North Korean army jeep.

Running, the two of them crossed the distance to Soe before he was able to squeeze off another shot. Remo yanked the gun away from the Public Security Ministry man, cracking it in half. He dropped the two sections to the ground.

"What is the meaning of this!" Chiun demanded.

"He's ticked at you for calling him the son of a Pyongyang whore the whole time we were at the Berlin embassy," Remo supplied for Soe.

"Oh, and am I now to be shot at for speaking the truth?" Chiun asked, jamming his fists against his hips.

"He was also probably trying to keep you from carving him a new belly button for not getting all your gold back to Sinanju." Remo smiled at Soe. "Just because I didn't say anything, it doesn't mean I missed your jaw smacking the dashboard when I mentioned the gold."

Chiun's eyes had grown wide. "This is true?" he cried, his voice rising several octaves.

"It is not my fault," Soe begged. "A government edict froze all incoming freight. I discovered the last shipment in a storage area when I was reassigned to the airport."

The premier of the North and the president of the South had come forward once Remo had disarmed Soe. At the security man's latest revelation, however, Kim Jong Il began to tiptoe slowly backward.

Chiun wheeled on the two leaders. Kim froze.

"Does this pile of dog droppings speak the truth?"