Warren Murphy: Fool's Gold

"She stole it from me," the merchant said.

"I know," the Briton laughed. "And tonight, children will be dying of starvation all over Madrid."

The merchant looked down to hide his smile.

It was love at first sight. Terri had never believed in it because it had never happened to her. Until now.

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"Thank you," she mumbled to the man.

"Spot of tea when you're done here?" the man said.

Terri nodded dumbly.

"Well, then, I really should have your name, shouldn't I?" the man said.

"Errr, Terri. Terri Pomfret," she said.

"A lovely name for a lovely lady. My name is Neville," said Neville Lord Wissex.

"Bad news, Little Father," Remo said.

"You're still here," Chiun said.

"If you think that's bad, try this," Remo said. "Smitty wants us to go to Hollywood right away. That's where CURE's records wound up. I told him we needed a vacation."

"Never argue with the emperor," Chiun said. "We will go to Hollywood."

"Hold on, you're up to something. That was just too agreeable and too fast."

"We must go where duty call takes us," Chiun said.

"I got it. You think you can con some producer into making your movie about Sinanju, don't you?"

"I really don't wish to discuss this with you, Remo. You are of a very suspicious turn of mind and it is not flattering to you at all."

"I'll fix you. Every producer I see, I'm going to kill on sight," Remo said.

It was the day she would remember all her life, spent with the man she had wanted to be with all her life.

Terri Pomfret found herself wishing she had a

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camera so she could record just the way it had gone. Having tea at a small cafe and then strolling along the riverfront. Spending a long, leisurely, wonderful hour inside a historical chapel, looking at seventeenth-century murals and frescoes.

And now here she was, following Neville, sweet, kind, handsome, charming, cultured Neville, up the steps toward his hotel room. How like him the hotel was. Not flashy or gaudy or tacky. A quiet, genteel building, in a quiet corner of the city, elegant, old-world charming.

She put her hand on the small of his back and Wissex stopped on the stairs and looked down into her eyes. His eyes were the brightest blue she had ever seen. Not dark and hard like Remo's but soft and gentle and caring.

"I've always dreamed of a man like you," she said. He smiled, the smile of one neither embarrassed nor patronizing; the smile of a sharer of the heart's deepest emotions. The smile of a man who understood; who would always understand.

As soon as they entered his room, Neville locked the door behind them, and then drew her into a clinch.

She felt his hands around her back, unbuttoning her blouse, as he steered her into the room, toward the bed. The bed seemed to be beckoning her, calling. She felt her heart pound and her breath catch in her throat and she closed her eyes tightly and buried her face in his neck.

"Oh, take me. Take me," she whispered.

Neville Lord Wissex smiled, and said, "I intend to."

And then he pushed her into a large steamer

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trunk at the foot of his bed, slammed the lid and locked it.

At first she shouted, then screamed, but the sound was muffled by heavy styrofoam insulation on the inside of the chest.

Wissex walked to the phone in the room, dialed a number, and said:

"That package is ready."

Remo was wondering where Terri was and when a knock came on their hotel room door, he grumbled, "It's about time," and yelled out, "It's open."

A smartly uniformed bellhop opened the door and stepped inside. To Remo, he said, "Pardon, Senor. There is an old gentleman in this room?"

Remo was lying on the couch. Without rising, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward where Chiun stood in a corner of the room, looking out the window.

The bellhop approached the old Korean.

"Senor?"

Chiun turned and the bellhop handed forward a small package wrapped in plain brown paper.

"This was left at the desk. I was told to give it to you," the bellboy said.

Chiun took it and nodded his thanks. The bellhop lingered a moment, as if expecting a tip, then turned and left. Chiun inspected the package, turning it over in his hands.

"What is it?" Remo said, raising himself to a half-sitting position.

"I will not know until I open it," Chiun said.

"Then open it."

"Whose package is this?" Chiun asked.

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"Yours, I guess."

"You guess? You didn't guess when that vicious little creature barged in here and asked for an old man. You pointed to me. Old? Since when am I an old man?"

"Since you were eighty years old," Remo said.

"That is old?" Chiun said. "Maybe it is old for a turnip, but for a man, it is not old. Never old."

"Why are you getting all bent out of shape?" Remo asked.

"Because I cannot rid your mind of your Western nonsense, no matter how I try," Chiun said. "Are you always going to go through life, thinking people are old, just because they have seen eight full decades?"

"All right, Chiun, you're young," Remo said. "Open the package."

"No, I am not young," said Chiun.

"What are you then? Christ, help me. I want to know so I don't offend you again."

"I am just right," said Chiun.

"Good," said Remo. "Now we've got that squared away. If we ever get a bellhop asking for the just-right man, I'll know right off it's you."

"Don't forget," said Chiun.

"Open the package," Remo pleaded.

Chiun delicately slit the paper with the long nail of his right index finger. Inside was a small box which he opened and took out a golden object.

"What is it?" Remo asked. "It looks like the handle of a knife."

"It is the handle of a knife. It is a challenge. They have the woman."

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Remo got up from the sofa. "Who does?" he asked.

Chiun tossed the knife handle across the room to Remo. Remo caught it and examined the engravings on it: a lion, a sheaf of wheat, and a dagger.

"Same crest we saw back at the bullrun," Remo said. "This is them? The House of something or other?"

"The House of Wissex," Chiun said.

"You're sure this means they have the girl?" Remo asked. He turned the knife handle over in his hand, as if by inspecting it closely he might find something more there than just a knife handle.

"Of course they have the woman," Chiun said. "It is the tradition of the challenge. First they take something of value to you, and then they send a knife to challenge you to come and reclaim your property."

"She's just more trouble than she's worth," Remo said. "Let them have her."

"It is not that simple," Chiun said.

"It never is."

"She is our client and her safety is our responsibility. The House of Sinanju cannot walk away from such a challenge."

"I knew she was going to be troublesome," Remo said.

"It is our responsibility, but it is my challenge," Chiun said. "It is from one assassin to another."

"And what am I, a chicken wing?"

"No. You are an assassin, but this is a challenge from the Master of Wissex to the Master of Sinanju."

"Tough luck," Remo said. "We go together."

Chiun sighed. "You are truly uneducable."

"Probably, but let's go find the girl," Remo said.

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When the long yacht came within sight of the Hamidian coast, the first faint streaks of sun were smearing the gray sky with pink smudge.

From a telephone in the main cabin, Neville Lord Wissex called Moombasa and awoke him in bed.

"I hope this important," Moombasa said thickly.

"It is. This is Wissex. I have the girl."

"Good. Where's the gold?"

"We don't have that yet," said Wissex.

"Why don't you call me back when you find it?" Moombasa said.

"Wait," said Wissex. "There's more."