Warren Murphy: Misfortune Teller

"All deliveries were held up at the airport after the head incident," Kim Jong Il admitted uncomfortably. "I suppose some of your gold could have been left behind. But it wasn't my idea," he added quickly, raising his hands in a defensive posture.

"Observe your future, crazed offspring of the corrupt Kim Il Sung."

Chiun raised a finger as he spoke, long nail extended. With a daggerlike thrust, the sharpened nail penetrated the belly of Rim Kun Soe.

The security officer's eyes grew wide in shock as Chiun wrenched upward. The razor-sharp nail sliced from Soe's navel to his sternum. Steaming organs slipped from their resting place, plopping to the frozen ground like heavy water balloons.

Soe's mouth formed a frantic, slow-motion O. But even as the intense pain was registering, he was pitching forward. He fell on the viscous bags of his own internal organs. Once he dropped, he did not stir again.

Chiun aimed the killing nail at the body of Soe.

"That is you if my gold is not in Sinanju this day," the Master of Sinanju intoned to the North Korean premier.

"I swear it will be done," Kim Jong Il insisted. His eyes were sick as he looked down on the security man's body.

The premier scampered back to his limousine. Throwing his driver out onto the ground, he climbed behind the wheel. Almost as soon as the engine started, the car began making a huge circle through the field next to the road. Straightening out, it zoomed back in the direction of Pyongyang.

"That is that," Chiun said, satisfied. "Now, where were we?" He turned back to Remo.

Remo wasn't paying attention to the old Korean. He was glancing along the line of cars. "Where's Sun?" he asked.

With the excitement over, people had emerged from between the vehicles. Man Hyung Sun was nowhere to be seen.

"He is here," Chiun said. "Perhaps I will not have to throttle you if you agree to beg his forgiveness."

"No, Chiun, really," Remo insisted. "He's not here."

A quick search of the crowd and cars failed to turn up the Reverend Sun.

"That is odd," Chiun said, baffled. "Why would the seer desert us on the eve of pyon hada."

The answer to his question came from a point far above all their heads.

A great whistling sound filled the sky. As the faces of the Korean delegation looked up to the noise, they were horrified to see a flaming object hurtling toward them through the gathering twilight.

The FROG missile tore through the sky at a speed far greater than even a Master of Sinanju could outrun.

As they looked up at the incoming missile, Remo and Chiun both knew with cold certainty that they were standing at ground zero. With nowhere to hide.

Chapter 30

As they watched the missile streaking in from the north, another bright object snaked up over their heads from the south. It came from somewhere in the direction of the DMZ.

The latest alien celestial object flew in a direct line for the first. Their flight paths intersected high above the line of cars.

The explosion was brilliant. Flaming debris rained down, trailing smoking bright trains in their wake.

Soldiers and government officials ducked for cover inside cars and under trucks as tiny shards of shattered metal dropped all around them.

Remo and Chiun had dived into the safety of the remaining bulletproof limousine. After the explosion, they emerged to survey the wreckage.

"What the heck just happened?" Remo asked.

"The boom device boomed," Chiun said dully.

"No, there was another one," Remo insisted.

"Two booms, one boom-who cares?" Chiun said. He stamped out a small fire at his foot.

"Patriot missiles!" Remo said all at once. "They were deployed along the DMZ a couple of years ago. They must have tracked the incoming missile and shot it down."

The Korean soldiers were beginning to mutter among themselves. As they spoke, they looked in the direction of the South Korean president. None of them seemed pleased.

The president did not appear very comfortable with the attention he was receiving. He ducked behind Remo.

"I guess we know what happened with Sun," Remo announced as he looked at the suspicious soldiers.

"We do?" Chiun asked.

"C'mon, Chiun," Remo said, annoyed. "It's pretty obvious he bagged out on us."

"Perhaps your heresy chased him away."

"Bull," Remo said. "If he knows everything like you say, then he knew the missile was coming. I think he knew 'cause he arranged for it to happen. Either way, he left you here to die, Little Father."

He could see his argument was having an effect. The seeds of doubt had been sown in the old Korean.

Around them, the crowd of North Korean soldiers and government officials was beginning to grow more hostile. In the absence of either their premier or the seer of pyon ha-da, they were turning their hostility concerning the missile attack against the closest representative from the South-Kim Dae Jung. None of them seemed to much care that the missile had come from the north.

"Perhaps you are right," Chiun grudgingly conceded, as he eyed the angry crowd. "I am not saying that you are, but if you were, what would you do now?"

Remo was looking at the crowd, as well. Nodding, he raised his eyebrows. "Run like hell?" he suggested happily.

"A wise choice," the Master of Sinanju replied.

Bundling up the South Korean president, the two of them jumped into the nearest jeep. Leaving the angry crowd in a cloud of dust, they tore off down the road toward the DMZ.

COLONEL DESOUZA HADN'T been in the Gulf War, so he had never had the privilege of seeing the Patriots in action. Until today.

As he scanned the field of smoking debris along the old iron bridge, he had to admit it. He was impressed.

For the third time that day as he was looking out across the bridge, a jeep drove into view on the other side.

It was the CIA guy. He had returned with the president of South Korea, as well as another man who appeared to be almost as old as the rock-faced mountains above them. Maybe older.

The trio hurried across the bridge.

"Sorry," the young Caucasian announced as the trio ran past DeSouza. "No time for chitchat. You boys keep up the good work."

The colonel said nothing as they climbed into an Army jeep and drove off. They headed down through the field where the protestors had been camping out the past few days. In the wake of the missile attack, the university students were already hightailing it back for Seoul.

When the jeep was long gone, Colonel DeSouza turned back to his men.

"Requisition me a damned tollbooth," he said. "I'll be a millionaire in a week."

Shaking his head, he wandered back through the debris field to his command center.

Chapter 31

"Where the devil have you been?" Smith demanded over the international line.

"Relax, Smitty," Remo said. He was standing in the main terminal of the airport in Seoul. "You're going to pop your cerebellum again. You've got to get me out of here."

Smith's response was firm. "Out of the question. There is a crisis situation in both Koreas. I need you there."

"Crisis averted," Remo insisted. "I'll tell you all about it if you tell me where Man Hyung Sun is right now."

Smith paused. Remo could hear the CURE director's angry breathing on the other end of the line. Finally, without Smith saying a word, the sound of rapid typing filtered through the receiver.

"Sun's jet landed and took off from the airport in Seoul an hour ago," Smith said momentarily.

"Kim Jong Il must have given permission for it to leave before all this nonsense started," Remo mused.

"About him," Smith pressed. "What is the situation in the North?"

"It's fine. Everything's fine. Kim is pissing his pants over Chiun's gold. He doesn't have time for anything else. Where's Sun's plane heading?"