Warren Murphy - Survival Course

"You killed five DFS officers with your bare hands," Officer Mazatl said, her voice tight and sick.

"They knew too much," Remo said. "Come on. We've got to go to Plan B."

"What is Plan B?" Lupe wanted to know as she was pulled by one hand out the door and to the elevators.

"Be prepared to improvise," Remo said bitterly. "First we check the Vice-President. Maybe he has something on him that'll help."

"Such as?"

"A safe-deposit-box key or a bus-terminal-locker tag," Remo growled unhappily. "I don't know. Look, I just had the Vice-President of the United States attack me and then take a header out an open window. I'm having a terrible day."

"Do not worry," Chiun put it. "I will vouch for you with Smith. None of this would have happened had Smith not sent us after ferocious geese."

"That's going to mean a lot, if we don't locate the President," Remo said sourly.

The elevator brought them to the lobby, where they were greeted by two DFS officers with drawn pistols.

The officers said, "Alto!" and Remo returned their greeting by cracking their pelvises with a swift upkick to each man.

He left them writhing on the floor, not exactly dead, but in no mood to celebrate life.

The lobby was free of other human encumbrances. In fact, it was deserted.

"It is not like one such as Odio not to have the lobby guarded by more men than those two," Lupe said as they made for the main entrance.

"I'm not complaining," Remo growled.

Out in the circular driveway, they discovered why the lobby was empty. Everyone was out there-DFS agents and Nikko employees alike-standing in the broken glass and staring at a body.

Remo pushed through the crowds. A DFS officer pushed back. Without looking, Remo casually batted with the back of his hand. The agent's head jumped off his shoulders with a report like a mushy cannon shot and struck a nearby bronze horse.

That got the crowd's attention. They backed off with gape-mouthed respect.

Remo knelt beside the body. It was dressed in a blue DFS uniform. It was the one he had pitched out the window. "Damn!" he breathed.

Jumping to his feet, Remo raced through the crowd. Everywhere he went, a path was cleared for him. A few people panicked and ran off. There were no other bodies.

"I don't see the V. P. !" Remo called to Chiun. "Where is he?"

Officer Lupe Mazatl demanded the same question of the crowd. One of the DFS officers meekly replied, and she translated for Remo's benefit.

"He says there is only one body, that one."

"Well, I saw the Vice-President lying right here," Remo snapped. "He didn't just get up and walk away. "

Lupe put the question to the DFS agent.

"He says that they heard a crash of glass," she said, translating the man's voluable Spanish. "They came out and saw nothing but a man with a golf bag walking away."

Remo blinked. "Then what?"

"Then the DFS officer fell from the sky."

Remo looked to Chiun. "Is she translating it right?" he wanted to know.

The Master of Sinanju nodded. "The President of Vice got up and walked away. But it is not possible."

"Not possible?" Remo snorted. "It's ridiculous."

Officer Mazatl put in her two cents. " I have read that it is a great puzzle why your presidente picked that man to be his second."

"Yeah?" Remo said slowly.

"A man who can fall sixteen stories and walk away is a man. What we call mucho hombre. It is no wonder he was chosen."

Remo blinked some more. "That almost makes sense," he said.

"Enough," Chiun snapped. He turned to the DFS agent and rattled off a string of Spanish questions.

"He says our quarry walked in that direction, toward Chapultepec Park," Chiun translated.

Remo looked across the Paseo de la Reforma, where the thick green of the park shivered in the passing hurricane of traffic.

"Then we start our search there!" Remo said. "Come on!"

No one got in their way as they ran for the side street, Calzada Arquimedes, and to the Reforma.

They stood on the corner of Arquimedes and the Reforma, beside the glowering statue of Winston Churchill, who looked as if he were emerging from a mud slide. Comandante Odio's helicopter sat on a nearby traffic island, its rotors drooped.

The traffic was like a fast-moving wall that spewed noxious fumes in their faces.

Almost immediately, Remo became aware of the tight band encircling his head.

He looked to the Master of Sinanju.

"Oh-oh, I'm starting to feel woozy again," he said.

" I too," said Chiun.

"It is because you have been exerting yourselves," Lupe told them. "You must not run."

"We gotta," Remo said. "Finding the Vice-President is our responsibility. He's our only lead to the President. "

"If you faint, then, do not blame me," Lupe said flatly.

"Little Father?" Remo said.

Chiun lifted a wise finger. "We will not run," he announced. "But we will walk very fast."

"Maybe we'd better split up?" Remo suggested.

"Yes. We will take opposite sides of the street," Chiun said. " I will allow you to cross the traffic," he added.

"Thanks," Remo said dryly. "Let's try to maintain eye contact until one of us spots something. It's gonna take both of us to catch the Vice-President-especially in our present condition." Remo turned to Lupe. "Mind staying with him?"

"Of course not, I prefer it," Lupe said tartly.

Remo looked back and saw the orange-pipe footbridge. He used it to reach the other side of the Reforma.

Once there, Remo walked along the broad shady sidewalk, keeping pace with Chiun and Guadalupe on the other side.

On his side, Chapultepec Park was bound by an iron fence. As Remo walked, he noticed bushes sculptured into the shapes of animals-a ram, a llama, and a particularly joyful-looking hippopotamus-on the other side of the fence. A little farther on, he spied a miniature railroad through the thick foliage. Probably the children's section of the park, he concluded.

Through the trees beyond, Remo saw no sign of the Vice-President, who by all accounts should be lying in a pool of blood and glass back in front of the hotel.

He couldn't figure it out. What was the deal here? Like many Americans, Remo had been mystified by the selection of an obscure Hoosier senator to be elevated to the vice-presidency. There was obviously more to the man than anyone had thought, if today's events meant anything.

Maybe that was it, Remo thought. Maybe he was the President's secret weapon. This President had once considered shutting down CURE. But if that was the case, why, after rescuing him, had the Vice-President hidden the President?

Across the Reforma, the Master of Sinanju crossed a side street to a brick-paved park dominated by a tall bronze statue of a man in military uniform. Probably some Mexican general, Remo thought. He walked on.

He came to a huge wrought-iron gate. It was closed. Remo looked back to the other side of the Reforma, saw the Master of Sinanju stopped before the bronze statue, head cocked inquisitively, and waved. Chiun did not look in his direction. He seemed fascinated by the statue for some reason. Probably Lupe was explaining its historical importance.

"Great," he muttered. "We're only trying to rescue the President, and those two are playing tourist and native guide."

Remo hesitated. The thrum of traffic was like a wall of sound. No point in trying to yell. He decided to go over the fence, knowing that if the Vice-President had entered the park, every minute counted.

The Master of Sinanju walked slowly, deliberately. His magnificent lungs drew in empowering oxygen. The trouble was, it tasted like nitrogen coming in, and with each exhalation, Chiun felt as if he were venting precious life-giving oxygen.

"This is a dirty place," he said, giving his opinion of Mexico City to the Mexican woman named Guadalupe. "It is no wonder that my ancestors had nothing to do with the Aztecs."