Warren Murphy: Shooting Schedule

"Nuke!" Remo exploded. "The Japanese tried to nuke Yuma?"

"No, the Americans," Chiun said.

"You're pulling my leg," Remo insisted. He turned to Smith. "He is pulling my leg, isn't he?"

"It's a long story," Smith sighed. "But every word of it is true. Chiun was instrumental in averting a catastrophe. The President is very grateful to him."

"We will discuss this at another time," Chiun said loftily. "Perhaps when we resume contract negotiations."

Smith winced at the reminder. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Chiun bowed formally. "Please convey my regards to your illustrious cousin Milburn."

"I will if we ever get back on speaking terms again. He was very unhappy that you submitted your story in poem form. He insists that you were given explicit instructions not to do so."

"The man is a philistine not to recognize great literature when it is offered to him at a mere dollar a word," Chiun said sharply.

"I won't tell him that part. He returned your manuscript, and I've promised to rewrite the story myself."

"I will not have my name attached to your drivelous writings, Smith. Put some other name on it. Perhaps Remo will be pleased to lend his name to your work. But be certain that the check is in my name."

"We'll discuss it another time," Smith said, closing the door after him.

"I get the feeling I missed a lot," Remo said after he and Chiun were alone. "You were in Yuma?"

"That is the past now. I wish you to forget it. You are in Folcroft now, where you are safe."

"I gathered that much. Too bad. I wanted to say good-bye to Sheryl. I never really got to know her."

"Forget her," Chiun said quickly. "Why don't you open your Christmas present?"

"You know, I don't have any presents for you."

"It is nothing," Chiun said with a dismissive wave. "When you are yourself again, I am certain you will shower me with the gifts I so richly deserve. Although I am certain none will be as fine as that I have made for you," he added pointedly.

"Handmade, huh? Nice to see you're getting into the Christmas spirit," Remo said as he pulled at the silver ribbon, "even if it is a week late."

Remo stopped suddenly. "I met a guy on the set named Sunny Joe. Did he make it?"

"Alas, no," Chiun said. "You will not see him again. "

"Too bad. He seemed like a nice guy."

"I would not know. I never met him."

Remo looked up suspiciously. "Then how do you know he died?"

"He was a friend of Bronzini's. All of Bronzini's friends were put to the sword by the Japanese."

"Damn."

Remo tore the wrapping free and fumbled at the lid of a simple cardboard box. The expression of sadness on his face gave way to pleasurable expectation. When he lifted the lid, the expression fell like a piano.

"It's empty!" Remo blurted.

"How white," Chiun spat. "How deeply you wound me with your base ingratitude."

"I'm not ungrateful," Remo said. "I'm just ... uh . . ."

"Disappointed?" Chiun suggested.

"Yeah. Kinda. Yeah, I am disappointed. There's nothing in this thing."

"Look again."

Puzzled, Remo held the box up to the light. He turned the box so that every corner was illuminated.

"It's still empty," he complained.

"You are so dense."

Remo dropped the box into his lap. He folded his arms. "Okay, I've been asleep for a week. I'm a little slow. So tell me."

"I offer you a thing of beauty and you tear it to pieces."

"The box was the present?" Remo said wonderingly.

"It is no mere box," Chiun corrected. "I chose it from countless others, rejecting many as flawed or unworthy to hold the gift I offer you."

"It looks like an ordinary cardboard box," Remo said sullenly.

"The wrapping paper was aquamarine. I chose aquamarine because I knew it was your favorite color."

"It is?"

"One of them. Perhaps not the most favorite."

"Well, I do kinda like aquamarine-after red, blue, yellow, green, and magenta. Maybe mud-brown too."

"The ribbon was silver. I chose it because it harmonized with the aquamarine paper I so painstakingly selected. When I had the box and the paper and the ribbon, I set them on the floor and meditated over them for an entire afternoon. Only after I had prepared myself mentally did I wrap the paper over the box and tie it with the magnificent bow which you plucked apart with your childish fingers with no thought given to the effort put into tying it."

"Sorry. Obviously I lost my head. Must have been delirious."

Chiun's hard countenance softened slightly.

"It might be that I can restore this present beyond measure, for in truth it is but a symbol of something greater. "

"What's that?"

"A father's love. For I am the only father you have ever known. "

"Oh," said Remo. And he understood. "How can I top this?" he asked, holding up the simple aquamarine box, which no longer seemed empty at all.

"You already have," Chiun told him warmly. "For I have you, who are the true treasure of Sinanju." Chiun beamed. Remo smiled back. Their smiles met and seemed to fill the room.

"This is the best Christmas I never had," Remo said. And he meant it.