Warren Murphy: Return Engagement

He might be the next victim.

Chapter 4

When Chiun did not emerge from his house to join in the big communal dinner in the village square, Remo decided to pretend not to notice.

Chiun was probably still angry with him, and pouting among his treasures was the surest tactic to get Remo to come to him, begging forgiveness. It wasn't going to work this time. Rem told himself. Let Chiun pout. Let him pout all night. Remo went on eating.

No one else seemed to notice that Chiun wasn't there. Or if they did. they didn't remark on it.

The villagers sat in the smoothed dirt of the square all around Remo and Mah-Li. Closest to them squatted old Pullyang, the village caretaker. During the period of Chiun's work-his exile, he had bitterly called it-in America- Pullvang ran the village. He was Chiun's closest adviser. But even he didn't seem concerned about Chiun's absence.

Pullyang leaned over to Remo, a little cackle dribbling off his lips. Remo knew that cackle meant a joke was coming. Pullyang loved to tell jokes. Pullyang's jokes would shame a preschooler.

"Why did the pig cross the road?" Pullyang whispered, giggling.

Remo, not thinking, asked, "Why?"

"To get to the other side," Pullyang howled, He repeated the joke to the crowd. The crowd howled. Even Mah-Li giggled.

Remo smiled weakly. Humor was not a Korean national trait. He would have to get used to it.

Remo decided that it might be better to introduce a more sophisticated brand of humor to the good people of Sinanju. He searched his mind for an appropriate joke. He remembered one Chiun had told him.

"How many Pyongyangers does it take to change a light bulb?" Remo knew Sinanjuers considered the people of the North Korean capital particularly backward.

"What is a light bulb?" asked Pullyang, deadpan. Remo, taken aback, tried to explain.

"It is a glass bulb. You screw it into the ceiling of your house."

"Won't the roof leak?" asked Pullyang.

"No. The light bulb fills the hole."

"Why make the light bulb hole then?"

"The hole doesn't matter," Remo said. "The light bulb is used to make light. When you have light bulbs in your house, it is like having a little sun at your command."

"Wouldn't it be easier to open a window?"

"You don't use light bulbs in the daytime," Remo said patiently. "But at night. Imagine having light all night long."

The crowd all wore puzzled faces. This was strange to them. Ever since Remo had agreed to live in Sinanju, he had promised them improvements. He had told them the treasures of Sinaniu had gathered dust for centuries and were going to waste. Remo promised to use some of the gold to improve the village. Remo had been saying that for weeks, but so far nothing had changed. Some wisely suspected that old Chiun was holding up these improvements.

"Light all night long?" repeated Pullyang.

"That's right," said Remo, grinning.

But no one grinned back. Instead there was a long uncomfortable silence.

At length Mah-Li whispered in Remo's ear. "But how will we sleep at night?"

"You can shut the light bulbs off anytime you want."

"Then why would we need them?"

Remo thought hard. Why were these people so dense? Here he was doing his best to bring them civilization and a higher standard of living, and they made him sound so stupid.

"Suppose you had to relieve yourself in the middle of the night," Remo suggested.

The crowd shrugged in unison. "You do it," a little boy said.

"But with a light bulb, you can see what you're doing," Remo pointed out.

The little boy giggled. All the children of the village laughed with him, but the adults looked mortified.

No one was going to say the obvious to Remo. Who would want to watch himself performing a bodily function? They all thought that, but to voice it to a Master of Sinanju, even if he was a white American with a big nose and unnaturally round eyes, would be disrespectful.

Out of the corner of his eye Remo, saw the door to the treasure house of Sinanju open a crack. Remo's head swiveled, and Chiun's eyes locked with his. Satisfied that Remo's senses were focused on the dwelling of the Master of Sinanju, who was ignoring him, Chiun slammed the door.

Remo muttered under his breath. He had looked. And Chiun saw him look. Had he not looked, everything would have been fine. But not now. Now Remo could no longer pretend that there wasn't a problem.

Remo excused himself from dinner, squeezed Mah-Li's hand, and made for the treasure house.

"Might as well get this over with," he said to himself. The door was locked, forcing Remo to knock.

"Who knocks?" demanded Chiun in a querulous voice.

"You know damn well who knocks," Remo snapped back. "You didn't hear me come up the path?"

"I heard an elephant. Is there an elephant with you?"

"No, there's no goddamn elephant with me."

The door shot open.

Chiun's beaming face stared back at Remo's.

"I thought not. An elephant makes less noise than you."

"Can I come in?" Remo asked, controlling himself with an effort.

"Why not? It is your house too." And Chiun moved back into the taper-lit interior.

Remo looked around. The heaps of treasure which occupied every room had been moved about. There were Grecian busts, Chinese statues, jars of precious gems, and gold in all its forms, from ingot to urn. "Redecorating?" asked Remo as Chiun settled into the low throne which sat in the center of the main room.

"I was taking count."

"I never noticed these before," Remo said, walking to a group of ornate panels stacked against one wall.

"They are nothing," said Chiun disdainfully. "Too recent."

"I read about these," Remo went on. "These panels are known as the Room of Gold. They're some kind of European treasure. I remember reading an article about them once. They're a national treasure of Czechoslovakia or Hungary or some place like that. They've been missing since the war."

"They have not," Chiun corrected. "They have been here."

"The Europeans don't know that. They think the Nazis took them."

"They did."

"Then what are you doing with them?"

"The Nazis were good at taking things that were not theirs. They were not good at keeping them. Ask any European."

"I will, if any drop in for tea."

"Do you miss America, Remo?" Chiun asked suddenly.

"America is where I was born. Sure, sometimes I miss it. But I'm happy here. Really, Little Father." Chiun nodded, his hazel eyes bright.

"Our ways are strange to you, even though now you, too, are a Master of Sinanju."

"You will always be the Master in my eyes, Little Father."

"A good answer," said Chiun. "And well spoken."

"Thank you," said Remo, hoping it would head off another one of Chiun's endless complaints about the frail state of his health in these, the ending days of his life.

"But I, being frail and in my ending days, will not always be the Master of this village," said Chiun. "You are the next Master. This we have agreed to."

"I hope that day is far off," said Remo sincerely.

"Not long ago it seemed that you would take my place much sooner."

Remo nodded, surprised that Chiun would bring up that subject himself. Remo was convinced Chiun's recent illness had been an elaborate con game designed to get them out of America. His miraculous recovery was suspicious, but Remo had not pressed the issue. He was too happy now that he had found Mah-Li. If it was one of Chiun's guilt trips that had brought that about, Remo reasoned, well, why not? Some people met through classified ads.

"We are both still young, you and I," said Chiun. "But I have suffered much in America, working for Mad Harold, the non-emperor. Too long have I breathed the foul, dirty air of your birthplace. It has robbed me of some of my years, but I have a good many years left. Decades. Many decades."