Warren Murphy: Bidding War

"You may."

And in a contemplative silence, the Master of Sinanju and his worthy pupil took up their rice bowls.

It was a perfect moment.

And then the doorbell rudely shattered the mood with its ding-dong sound.

"I'll get it," said Remo.

He was gone but a moment and when he returned, he was wearing a strange expression and carrying a crumpled letter.

"What is it?" asked Chiun.

"We just got stung for fifteen cents. Postage due from Ottawa. Guess they're low on stamps up there."

"It is a trifle, and we care not what the penniless Ottawans say, whoever they may be."

"Ottawa is the capital of Canada," said Remo, tearing open the envelope. "Might as well see what they had to say."

Out came a letter and a colored slip of paper.

"What is it, Remo?"

"It's a letter inviting us to meet with the prime minister."

"Then why are you frowning?"

"Because this other thing is a half-price discount coupon for a one-way bus ticket to Ottawa. Can you beat that? Everyone else sent a limo. Or at least tried to kill us."

"They insult us!"

"They waste their time," said Remo, tossing the letter into the trash.

"The Ottawans could at least have poisoned the paper or cunningly secreted deadly spiders in the envelope as a gesture of respect."

Remo sat down and attacked his rice. "Speaking of spiders, you never did tell me who killed Khoja Khan."

"Because it does not matter, for Sinanju had nothing to do with it."

"So? Tell me anyway."

"His crimes were discovered, and he was tied living to wild asses, which were urged to flee into the desert."

"Ouch."

"His bones were later found, but that was all."

Remo grinned. "That's the biz, sweetheart."