Warren Murphy - Failing Marks

It took twenty minutes.

Remo tried to remain aloof for most of the time, but curiosity eventually got the better of even him. He stood above the hole alongside the Master of Sinanju.

Panting from her exertions, Heidi joined them up above, allowing the men to pry and tug at the stubborn edges of the fifteen-hundred-year-old block of buried stone. Her eyes strayed only once to the woods at the edge of the field.

After many long minutes of grunting and straining, the stone finally popped loose. A burst of fetid, swampy air poured up from around the edges of the dislodged slab of ancient rock. The men in the pit struggled to avoid the urge to vomit at the stench.

The worst of the smell passed as they labored to stand the rock door on its side. With difficulty, the men managed to lean the huge piece of stone up against the dirt-smeared rock wall of the shallow pit.

Below the spot where the ancient stone had rested for more than a millennium was an empty blackness. Stone stairs led away into darkness.

The Master of Sinanju couldn't contain his joy. He bounced happily on his sandaled feet.

"Come, Remo," he enthused. "Let us reclaim the treasure of poor maligned Master Bal-Mung." He headed for the edge of the hole.

"What about them?" Remo asked, indicating the skinheads and border police who were still standing in the small field.

Chiun paused, looking at the collection of men. There were only about twenty of them in all. "We will need them to transport my treasure," Chiun said merrily.

He hopped down into the hole.

Remo and Heidi followed, along with the curious group of neo-Nazis and Nazi sympathizers.

The moss-coated stairs led deep underground. As the motley collection of treasure hunters made their way down the long, treacherous flight, more than one skinhead slipped and fell. Once, Remo had to grab Heidi when the heels of her boots slid out from beneath her. Only Remo and Chiun descended the ancient staircase with ease.

The waning late-afternoon sunlight from above grew dim when they were only halfway down the stairs. Their group had only two weak flashlights, which they played along the slime-coated walls and slick staircase. Adolf Kluge held one of the lights as he stepped gingerly down the stairs immediately behind the Master of Sinanju.

The staircase led into a narrow, stone-hewed hallway. There was a shelf set into the wall on which rested dozens of slender rock-carved torches.

Siegfried must have considered the possibility that the treasure might languish down there for many years. While it would have been traditional to fashion a torch from wood, wood rotted. Stone did not.

Chiun took one of the unlit torches down from the wall. As Kluge shone a flashlight on him, the Master of Sinanju made an unhappy face.

The torch had a wide cup that tapered down into a long handle. It was like an oversize golf tee. Chiun dipped his index finger into the hollow at the top of the rock torch. He removed it, pressing the finger to his tongue.

Angry, Chiun spit the drop of oily substance between Adolf Kluge's boots.

"Your ancestor's final theft," he said to Kluge. Chiun continued forward down the corridor, toying with the top of the torch.

As the Master of Sinanju walked away, Remo took down one of the torches. He smelled the end, nodding.

"What is it?" Kluge asked, confused.

"Old family recipe," Remo explained. "Lasts for years."

Far down the corridor, Chiun's torch flared to life. The narrow walls were instantly illuminated in a brilliant flash of white-hot light. The light from the torch then faded to a steady yellow incandescence. Remo instructed the men with them to gather up several of the torches. As he and Heidi walked past Kluge, the IV leader could see Remo rubbing his thumb and index finger rapidly together above the bowl of the torch. Somehow the friction he produced caused his own torch to burst aflame.

Remo used his flame to ignite the other torches. The mass of men moved down the hallway. Adolf Kluge lagged behind.

A feeling of intense claustrophobia had enveloped Kluge. He couldn't allow it to get the better of him. Not if he hoped to succeed in his plan to kill the others. Steeling himself, Kluge trailed the rest down the hallway.

"Why are there skeletons everywhere we go lately?" Remo griped as he picked his way through a litter of bones.

The hallway had ended in a large chamber. Above them could be heard the muted roar of the Danube. The chamber had been constructed in such a way that-even after all these years-the river had not burst through.

The broken bones of murder victims were spread all around this large room. In spite of the dampness, they cracked like scattered potato chips beneath the heels of the intruders.

"Siegfried would not want his secret made known," Chiun explained. "Doubtless these are the bodies of those who constructed this place."

"They are likely the men who moved the gold, as well," Heidi offered from her spot at Remo's elbow.

"What did he do if you didn't help him?" Remo asked.

There was a sconce at the wall just inside the door. Remo put his torch there. It was bright enough to illuminate the entire room, which was roughly the size of a high-school classroom from the time when such rooms held more than five students, one teacher and fifteen teacher's aides.

There were at least two more rooms leading off of the one they were in. Weird shadows danced along the moist, moss-covered walls.

Beyond the skeletal remains on either side of the chamber were two large piles of slime-coated rock. Lichens and moss sprouted from every conceivable crevice in the huge stone piles. A narrow space ran up between the mass of slippery rock into the next chamber.

Beyond the right pile, a relentless drip reminded them of the nearness of the Danube above their heads. An elaborate sluice system constructed at the sides of the slightly slanted floors carried the dripping water away.

"I guess ol' Siegfried did it to you again, Chiun," Remo commented sadly, looking around the fungus and ooze filled room. "I've got to hand it to him, though. I almost believed this one."

The Master of Sinanju wasn't listening. His eyes held an eager glow as he handed his torch back to Remo. Remo took it, confused.

"What's with him?" he asked, turning to Heidi. She wasn't listening, either. Both Heidi and Kluge broke away from the pack, their faces awed. They moved with nervous reverence after the Master of Sinanju.

When they came up behind him, Chiun was already crouched next to the nearest pile of moss-covered stone. Heidi and Kluge didn't look at one another. Didn't blink. Didn't dare take their wide eyes off the hands of the old Korean.

Chiun snaked a bony hand toward the rock pile. Remo had no time to voice his disgust before the Master of Sinanju had clasped firmly on to one of the slippery stones atop the main pile. Spiriting it to his chest, Chiun used his free hand to brush away the years of slimy growth that had built up atop the stone.

Remo had just opened his mouth to complain when he spied an odd glimmer in the bright torchlight within the cavern. It came from Chiun's hand. And its color was gold.

Stunned, Remo took a step forward.

Both Heidi and Kluge watched in wonder as Chiun's long fingernails expertly wiped away years of residue that had built up atop the object that all of them now knew was not merely a piece of rock.

It came clean with surprising ease. When he was finished, Chiun held in his hand a single brick of solid gold. He turned to Remo.

"Behold," Chiun said, with quiet awe. He held a grand arm out toward the mossy piles within the cavern, "the long shame of Master Bal-Mung is lifted. I give to you the Nibelungen Hoard."

Chapter 25

The decision was made by the Master of Sinanju to haul the entire Nibelungen Hoard from its ancient resting place in one massive move.