Warren Murphy - White Water

A stamp of his foot powdered the hand that fell at his feet.

Finally, with a tight fist, he cracked the statue at the exposed belly. The torso wobbled, then toppled forward.

Remo caught it, half turned and let fly.

The top of the statue went zinging out the open door to land in the street, and bounced apart into a dozen pieces of various sizes.

Remo faced Chiun. "See? No evil Kali statue. This is just some goofball cathouse or something."

Chiun padded up to the Shiva statue and looked into its austere countenance. "I detect a faint resemblance," he said, thin of voice.

"Yeah. It has two eyes, one nose and a mouth with thirty-two teeth. Same as me. That's where the resemblance begins and ends."

"There are things you do not remember," Chiun warned.

"If I don't, it's probably for good reasons," returned Remo.

"Shiva has possessed your corporeal body before."

"If you say so..."

"Several times."

"Fine. I channel Shiva on my off days. I don't feel an off day coming on."

"The last time, he promised me that he would claim you, his avatar, when the time was ripe, and not before."

"Let me know if that day ever comes," said Remo. "Now do you want to go first or should I?"

Chiun regarded Remo thinly. "You are the brave one. You may go first."

"Since when are you afraid?" asked Remo, genuinely surprised.

"When I saw those two statues in this very room," returned Chiun, his wrinkled visage darkening with shadows.

"Fine. Try not inhale too much of my dust ...."

And turning, Remo faced the mirrored double door and smacked it with one palm.

It shattered into a thousand fragments that hung in space for a long breath until the pieces recognized that they no longer belonged to a whole. Then they fell like a metallic rain.

ANWAR ANWAR-SADAT LOOKED down at the fisheries minister of Canada, Gilbert Houghton.

The man spit out his bloody rose. His hello was grudging.

"I-I-" Anwar-Sadat swallowed "-I thought we-" he cleared his throat "-I mean-"

"You thought that you were the only one upon whom I bestow the favor of my wrath?" Mistress Kali said in a metallic voice.

"That is one way to put it," Anwar-Sadat said. He averted his eyes from the lurid spectacle of the fisheries minister. This was not Anwar-Sadat's scene. Not his scene at all. What had he walked into? he wondered.

"I thought it was time my two puppets met."

"I am not your puppet," Anwar Anwar-Sadat insisted.

Gilbert Houghton spit out a sticky tendril of blood and said, "But I am. Am I your only puppet, Mistress?"

"Of course not," Mistress Kali sneered.

"But I am your most important puppet."

"You are my most useful puppet," said Mistress Kali.

The fisheries minister smiled sickly. He beamed.

Then Mistress Kali's Nile green eyes fell on Anwar Anwar-Sadat's stone features.

"Until this hour," she added coldly. "Kneel, Man who would be Pharaoh."

Anwar-Sadat stiffened his spine. "I will not. I am a UN diplomat."

"And I am the woman who baited her hook with your miserable penis and reeled you in like a fish. Kneel or be flayed!"

"You would not dare."

"Kiss my feet and I will spare your hide of a splitting."

"Resist," Gilbert Houghton hissed.

"Should I?"

"Yes. I want to hear the crack of the whip on your recalcitrant ass. It will make me hard as a bone."

On reconsideration, Anwar Anwar-Sadat said, "I will kneel."

And lifting his trouser legs so the knees did not bag, he got down on one knee, like a knight before his queen.

"Both knees," Mistress Kali insisted.

"Very well." The second knee fell to the floor.

"Now prostrate yourself before my magnificence."

"Prostrate? Do you mean-?"

A gloved hand reached down, seized his hair and pushed his head down violently.

Anwar Anwar-Sadat's forehead banged the floor. A spiked heel pressed into the back of his neck, then withdrew.

A very pointed toe slipped under his downcast face.

"Kiss it and be mine."

Anwar Anwar-Sadat hesitated. But only for a moment. The stiletto heel returned into his neck vertebrae, and he planted his dry lips to the black vinyl. A peck. He hoped there were no hidden cameras.

The heel came off his neck.

With a tug of her leash, Mistress Kali brought the fisheries minister closer. They faced one another, two dogs at the heel of their mistress.

"This one," she said, giving the leash a headjerking tug, "is ambitious. He seeks to be prime minister. He believes that he can accomplish this by strutting his balls on the global stage and facing down the United States while blaming Quebec for the conflict we engineered."

"Is this true? Is this your plan?" Anwar-Sadat demanded.

"It would have worked, but someone sunk my sub," Gilbert Houghton said dolefully.

"It is a very intriguing plan," Anwar Anwar-Sadat admitted.

"Thank you," said Gilbert Houghton. "But I must kindly ask you to stay away from my mistress."

"She is my mistress."

"You think a slavish peck on her boot will make her yours? I have tasted her lash. I have licked her in places you will never see. Have you?"

"I hope not to," Anwar Anwar-Sadat said truthfully.

And he felt the boot heel press into his neck again.

"Now, this one," Mistress Kali said, "seeks global power." Her voice dripped with scorn and contempt. "He has failed to bring the world into his orbit, so now he seeks control of the seas as a way to control nations."

"It was your idea," Anwar-Sadat reminded. "This control of the sea."

"Interesting concept," said Gilbert Houghton.

"I have not yet begun."

Mistress Kali interrupted. "Both schemes are mine. Now they are one. You have both worked my will in the world. Now you will work together."

"I will consider this," said Anwar Anwar-Sadat. "Now, about our dinner engagement..."

"I will dine upon the hams of your rump if you fail to achieve my goals," Mistress Kali spit.

"What exactly are your goals?" Anwar Anwar-Sadat asked.

"To plunge the world into the Red Abyss."

"I am not familiar with the Red Abyss, is it near the Black Hole of Calcutta?"

The answer never came. There came a sound like shattering glass, followed by the gritty settling of a particles.

It froze time. Anwar Anwar-Sadat started to look up, but his gaze never reached his mistress's masked face. With a savage gesture she kicked Anwar-Sadat and the fisheries minister aside and stepped past them, snarling, "Avert your eyes, supplicants."

Like a black snake uncoiling, her whip slithered to the floor. She snapped it up and demanded in a harsh, shrill voice, "Who is this who invades my domain?"

A squeaky voice returned, "Who is this who demands such answers of us?"

"I am Mistress Kali."

"If you are Mistress Kali," returned the squeaky voice, "then you will recognize my companion, who is sometimes called Shiva the Destroyer."

Hearing that interesting comment, Anwar Anwar-Sadat couldn't help but peek. He turned his head.

Chapter 35

Lieutenant Sandy Heckman had interdiction patrol. They were calling her the heroine of the Battle of Sable Island Banks. There was talk of a promotion.

Now she was in the waters west of the Grand Banks' infamous Nose trying to protect U.S. fishermen as they plundered cod from Canadian waters.

Not that there would be any stopping them.

It would have been simple in the past. Show up in force and seize their vessels. But these fishermen had tasted combat. They had defeated the Canadian Coast Guard. They would not be denied. They wanted to fish, so the orders from Cape Cod were to let them fish. It was, politically speaking, a way to pressure Ottawa into capitulating.

Sandy didn't care about Ottawa. After the skirmish was over, there would be even less fish in the North Atlantic, pushing the stock-rebounding process further into the next century.