Warren Murphy: Dangerous Games

"Chiun?" Smith asked, leaning back and looking at the frail, aged Korean.

"Why not?" Remo asked. "He can win any event he enters. All of them, for that matter. So can I."

"For once you speak the truth, housefly," Chiun said. "He is right, Emperor."

"Well, Remo, you'll get a chance to prove it," Smith said. "The people in Moscow are being just about what you'd expect. Stubborn. They don't want any American security people in Russia. They figure they'll be CIA agents spying on them."

"We could send the whole CIA and they'd be lucky to find the Olympic Stadium," Remo said.

"If you want us to get secrets," Chiun started to tell Smith.

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"I appreciate the offer, Master," said Smith. "I really do. Perhaps another tune. Rerao, you'll have to travel with the team as an athlete. But you'll have to work your way on through competition."

"You've got to be kidding," Remo said.

"This is wonderful," Chiun said. "If I can't go for the gold myself, who better than my own son?" He leaned close to Smith again. "He's not really my son because he's funny-colored, but I just say that to make him feel good." He leaned back. "Of course, I will travel with him."

"Of course," Smith said. "You can travel as his trainer."

"Perfect," said Chiun.

"This is a pain," Remo said.

"It will work out fine," Smith said. "Are you sure he's asleep down there?" He pointed again to the drunk at the end of the car.

"Out for the night," Remo said.

"What events shall we compete in?" Chiun asked Remo.

"I don't care. Pick one."

"You could win all the track events easily," Chiun said.

"Yeah," Remo said. "What've we got? The dashes, the hurdles, the 800 meter, the 1500, the mile, two-mile. There's the marathon, and . . . let's see, things like shotput, and pole vault, high jump, long jump. Aaaah, there's a lot of them."

"And gymnastics," Chiun reminded.

"Horse, parallel bars, rings, balance beam . . ."

"And be careful not to set any new world records at these qualifying contests," Chiun said. "That's not where the endorsement money comes from. Save the world records for the Olympics."

"Yes, Little Father."

"You can't possibly compete in all those events," Smith said, trying to regain control of the discussion.

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"The brilliance of the Emperor," Chiun said. "Of course he is right, Remo. If you competed in every event, you would win every event, and so there would be no need to send an Olympic team."

"So? Then I wouldn't have to babysit them."

Smith shook his head in disbelief. "You're not babysitting. Go to Moscow, find out where the threat comes from, and eliminate it."

"And win gold medals," Chiun said.

"Maybe they give one out for stupid assignments," Remo said. He looked at their faces and threw up his hands. "All right, all right. Pick an event. Not a marathon or anything like that. Something that doesn't take a lot of time. I just want to get in there and get out of there is all."

"We will let an impartial party decide what medal you should win," Chiun said. He stood up and walked to the sleeping drunk, touching him quickly on the shoulder. The man did not stir. Chiun called out twice, softly. "Wake up. Wake up." The man did not move. Chiun took the man's right earlobe between thumb and forefinger and squeezed.

"Yeow," the man yelled, jerking awake. He looked around in surprise, and saw Chiun standing in front of him, resplendent in a heavily brocaded yellow daytime robe.

"I must be dreaming," the derelict said. He rubbed his ear. But if he was dreaming, why did his ear hurt so much?

"Listen," said Chiun. "We are not concerned with your stupid ear. What kind of gold medal should we win in the Olympics?"

"You?" the drunk said. He looked Chiun over carefully. "Maybe the Golden Age Mile. You can all walk."

"Not me," Chiun said. "My student." He pointed and the man craned his neck to get a better look at Remo.

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"He don't look so young either," the drunk said. "And he don't look like no athlete. I'm thirsty."

"Pick an event," Chiun insisted.

"Something that's not too hard. Maybe he can run. He looks like he's been running from cops. Can you run? A half-mile. Maybe he can run a half a mile?" He decided he was awake and he wondered who these people were and what they were doing in his zoo. Maybe while he was asleep someone had taken him from the zoo to the asylum.

"Yeah, I can run a half-mile," Remo said.

"Okay. Do a half-mile. Or meters. I think they do it in meters now. America has switched to the metric system. They even sell booze by liters now. And there's meters and millimeters and like that." He swelled his chest with pride. He felt like a patriot.

"Shut up," Chiun said. "Thank you." He returned to Remo. "Give the man a nickel for bis trouble."

Remo walked over to the drunk, who was still mumbling about meters and millimeters and liters. Remo slipped a fifty-dollar bill into the derelict's hand, keeping his back turned so that Smith, who paid all the bills, would not see.

"Here," Remo said. "Buy yourself an imperial load on."

"I don't believe all this," Smith said.

"He will win," Chiun said. "You will see."

"I can't wait," Smith said.

The cable car bumped to a stop at the platform and the drunk scurried out of the car, running with his new-found fortune to the nearest bar and, in the process, setting his own lifetime best for the 983-yard run.

When Smith, Remo, and Chiun stepped from the car, they noticed that everyone else in the zoo seemed to be running too.

"Something's happened," Smith said.

"These people are scared," Remo said. A man in

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a zoo guard's uniform ran toward them and Remo collared him.

"What's going on, pal?"

"Brian's escaped," the man said, as if that explained everything. He tried to resume running, but felt rooted to the spot. The skinny man's hand on his shoulder seemed to weigh a ton.

"That's great," Remo said. "Who's Brian?"

"Gorilla. Biggest gorilla in the world. Somebody got him riled and he snapped the cage door. He's going crazy. Lemme go. I gotta call for tranquilizer guns, buddy. Lemme go."

"Which way to the gorilla cage?" Chiun asked.

"Straight ahead," the guard said. "C'mon, lemme go."

Remo released the man's shoulder and the guard fled.

"We'd better leave," Smith said.

"Nonsense," said Chiun. "We will go to the gorilla. This will not really show you how fast Remo can run, but it may restore your faith in him, even if he is white, God help him, present company ex-cepted. Come."

Chiun walked toward the cage. Smith looked at Remo, who shrugged and followed Chiun. And because he could think of no place safer, Smith walked after them.

When they reached the area of the gorilla cage, the zoo was practically empty, and Brian was calming down. If he could be kept there, away from the main walkways of the zoo, it should not be too difficult for zoo guards with tranquilizer guns to recapture him.

Chiun had other ideas.

"There he is," Smith hissed.

"It's all right," Remo said. "You can talk up. Gorillas don't know you're talking about them."

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"Listen to Remo, Emperor. He knows about gorillas. And Monkeys."

Brian was seven feet tall and weighed more than 500 pounds. He was standing near his cage, scratching his head, looking around. When he saw the three men approaching, he jumped up and down, roared, and beat on his chest. Then he started toward them.

"We'd better leave here," Smith advised again.

"No need," said Chiun. "Remo will put the beast back in his cage."

"Why me?" Remo asked. "Why not you?"

"It is true," Chiun said, "that I have much more experience dealing with an ape, considering what I have had to endure in the last ten years, but I have no need to impress the emperor. You show him what you can do."