Warren Murphy - The Last Dragon

Remo blinked. "Chiropractic?"

"Did I ever tell you, Remo, how a Master of Sinanju, penniless and stranded far from his village, divulged certain secrets of Sinanju to a foreigner in return for passage home, and centuries later, a new breed of charlatan became as numerous as cockroaches in Europe?"

"Never mind," said Remo. He examined the hauler. The back was ruined. It looked as if Godzilla had sat on it hard.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not up to moving this thing again," he said to no one in particular. "Never mind where we could put it."

Nancy came up, wiping at red eyes.

"I was taking Punkin to the Zoological Gardens in Philadelphia. I have a friend there. Burger Triumph would have to sue to get it back."

"Good plan. Too bad you didn't make it."

Nancy walked around the beast, which was limned by the hauler headlights. She stood near the back, the belly of the Apatosaur was clearly exposed.

"It's a bull!" she gasped.

The Master of Sinanju looked to his pupil. "The strain is obviously too much for this woman, Remo. She now believes this hideous dragon is a bull."

"I think she means it's a bull Bronto, as in a male."

Frowning, the Master of Sinanju floated over to where Nancy was kneeling to satisfy his curiosity. He returned almost at once, his wrinkled face crimson with embarassment.

"It is definitely male. And that woman is leering at its maleness in a disgusting way."

"Nancy's allowed. She's a cryptozoologist."

The side door opened and Remo and Chiun dropped into tense crouches, ready to attack or defend as the circumstance warranted. A rustic-looking man with an odd fringe of a beard and a quaint round-brimmed hat poked his head in, saw them, and said in a Germanic voice, "Who is in my barn at this hour making such noises?"

"This your barn?" asked Remo.

"Ja."

"We want to rent it for a few days," Remo said.

"Why should I rent you English my barn?"

"Or we can just leave this bull Brontosaurus for you to clean up?" Remo said, cocking a thumb over his shoulder.

The man looked past Remo for the first time, eyes going round as the brim of his hat.

"How many dollars per day vill you pay?" he asked.

"As many as you want if you leave us alone," Remo replied.

"I do this. Danke. " He clapped the door shut behind him.

"Who was that?" Nancy asked, coming around to see.

"Some Amish guy," said Remo.

"Amish?"

"We're in Pennsylvania Dutch country. Didn't you know?"

"No. My God! That poor man. What will he tell his family?"

"If he's smart, nothing." Remo was looking at Skip King's broken body lying in the hay. "I thought you said they ate only vegetables."

Nancy refused to look at the body. "They do. Old Jack wasn't trying to eat King, just to punish him. I guess he recognized King from Africa. He was probably the first human being he ever saw."

"Well, he's a used doggy chew-bone now," Remo said.

The Master of Sinanju strode up to Nancy and fixed her with his stern hazel eyes.

"I have twice rescued this ugly beast," he said, his wispy chin held high.

"That's true," said Nancy.

"I claim my reward."

"Little Father-" Remo began.

The Master of Sinanju cut him off with a curt chop of his hand. "When this noble creature expires at the end of its natural span, its bones are mine."

Nancy had been holding her breath. She let it out in surprise. "If I have anything to say about it, it's a deal."

The Master of Sinanju bowed, and with a last forlorn look at the slumbering dragon of Africa, he padded from the barn.

"Remo, you will give this woman our secret telephone number."

"Secret?" Nancy said.

"Actually, this is a 'don't call us, we'll call you' situation."

Nancy followed Remo to the barn door, "You're not leaving me alone to work this out, are you?"

"Don't sweat it. I'll make a call and I guarantee you the Army or Air Force or someone will show up by sunrise."

Nancy followed Remo out into the Pennsylvania night, but the sight of clumps of curious Amish farmers converging on the barn forced her to double back.

"Damn!" she muttered. "I hope I don't have to explain the entire Mesozoic to those people."

The next day, Remo listened to Harold Smith explain the aftermath of the night's events.

"The board of directors of Burger Triumph has resigned en masse," Smith said.

"They're hamburger any time you say," Remo suggested.

"Not necessary. The Justice Department will be issuing indictments soon for crimes ranging from bringing a wild animal into the country without meeting the proper quarantine and inoculation requirements to endangering an endangered species."

"That ought to get them three whole weeks in Leavenworth," Remo said.

"The Apatosaur is now safe in the Zoological Gardens in Philadelphia," Smith went on.

"How'd you manage that?"

"A helicopter skycrane and the Army Corps of Engineers. It was dangerous, but the only way to move the creature. Dr. Derringer was very helpful in supervising the transfer."

"What's going to happen to it?"

"Unclear," Smith said wearily. "The Burger Triumph people, without admitting any corporate culpability, have agreed to underwrite the animal's food and board. Already, protest groups have surfaced demanding the creature be returned to its native habitat."

"Figures."

"The bodies of the so-called Congress for a Green Africa have been identified. They had no connection with the real group of that name, which are still operating in Africa. The dead men were known criminals, apparently hired to create a plausible threat to the animal so that its death could be faked without suspicion."

"One thing I don't get," said Remo. "Who were the guys firing blanks in Africa?"

"This is surmise," said Smith, "but if as Dr. Derringer reported, they could not be the U.S. group because they spoke in African accents, and they were not the actual Congress for a Green Africa, they could only be African mercenaries of some sort. It is fairly clear that Burger Triumph must have bribed President Oburu in order to get the dinosaur out of Africa. My guess is they were units of the Gondwanalandian Army pretending to be the ecoterrorist group. The Congress for a Green Africa is tailor-made as a scapegoat, after all"

"Well, I'm glad that's all over with. I've lost all my illusions where dinosaurs are concerned and I'd just as soon forget the whole thing happened."

"It might cheer you up to learn that Doyce Deek had confessed to a total of seven murders and the Utah authorities have begun reviewing the conviction of Roy Shortsleeve. A process from which the ACLU is keeping a conspicuous distance. It seems they are under growing pressure to close their Salt Lake City office. They have not been able to explain the dead convicts in their dumpster."

Remo laughed. "My week will be complete if you have some bad news about Dr. Gregorian."

"That matter is still under review," Smith said. "I will let you know. In the meantime, I have a plane to catch."

"Vacation?"

"A day trip to the Zoological Gardens. I am quite anxious to see this Apatosaur with my own eyes."

"Don't get too close," Remo warned.

"I understand it is quite tame."

"Mushroom breath," Remo said. "It'll get you every time."

After Remo had hung up, he went upstairs to the meditation room, where the Master of Sinanju sat attired in a gold silk kimono, his eyes closed.

Remo settled onto a mat facing Chiun. The Master of Sinanju did not open his eyes. "Smith says it's a wrap on the Bronto," Remo said.

"I do not care."

"Still burned about losing out on a drumstick?"

"The creature cannot live forever. I will outlive it. I can afford to be patient."

"Glad to hear it. So when are we moving?"