Warren Murphy: Voodoo Die

"Because I know what I'm doing," Ruby said. "Now you know I'm from the CIA. I don't know much about where you two are coming from, except it's something I probably don't wanna know about. But let's face it, you two just ain't much. I mean, you do a pretty good trick with that listening to people's feet so you know they carrying a gun, but what else do you do? You, dodo, you almost get yourself shot up by a guard and you bofe wind up in cages and Ruby's got to bail you out." She shook her head. "Not

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much to talk about. Now I want to get outa here alive, so we do it my way. I gonna get rid of that Corazon and get somebody else running this place and we gonna get his machine and then we going back to America. That all right with you, old gentle-mans?"

"His name is Chiun," Remo snapped. "Not 'old gentlemans.'"

"That all right with you, Mister Chiun?" Ruby asked.

"It is all right."

"Good," Ruby said. "Then it's agreed."

"Hey, wait a minute," said Remo. "What about me? You didn't ask me. Don't I count?"

"I don't know," Ruby said. "Let's hear you count."

"Aaah," Remo said in disgust.

"No, fish," said Ruby, "you don't count. You got nothin' to say about nothin.' And one thing more, when I get us all outa here-me and the old gentle-mans, Mister Chiun-we got a deal about that learning how people are carrying guns, right?"

"Right," said Chiun. "Forty percent."

"Twenty," said Ruby.

"Thirty," said Remo.

"All right," Ruby said to Remo. She pointed to Chiun. "But he pays you outa his share. Maybe you get enough to buy yourself some new socks." She sniffed her disdain. "Country," she said.

"All right, Madam Gandhi. Now that you're in charge, you mind telling us how and when you're going to move against Corazon?"

"The how don't concern you, 'cause you just mess it up. The when is now. We already started. Eat some more greens."

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"That's right, Remo. Eat some more greens," Chiun said.

Generalissimo Corazon had drafted the proclamation carefully. The old hungan had slipped through his fingers yesterday and the two Americans had escaped, but it did not matter. He had the mung machine and it worked against the Americans and it worked against the hungans family. He had proved it yesterday when he had obliterated the high priest's son. So he had no fear any longer as he drafted the proclamation appointing himself "God for Life, Ruler Forever, President Eternal of All Baqia."

He came out on the steps of the palace leading to the courtyard to read it to his troops before he led them to the mountains to flush out the old voodoo leader, Samedi.

But where were the troops?

Corazon looked around the palace courtyard. There were no soldiers to be seen. He glanced upwards at the flagpole. Hanging from the rope beneath the Baqian flag was a stuffed dummy. It was dressed in a soldier's uniform and wore riding boots and had a chestful of medals. It was grossly overpadded and meant to represent Corazon. Hanging from its chest was a cloth sign. A breeze caught the pennant and floated it out straight, so Corazon could read the words:

"The hungan of the hills say Corazon will die. He is a pretender to the throne of Baqia."

Generalissimo Corazon dropped the proclamation on the stone steps and fled inside the palace.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

It took four direct orders from Generalissimo Corazon to get a soldier to climb the flagpole and take down the dummy of the general and the threatening banner.

While he climbed, the drums began beating louder and the soldiers in the guard posts around the palace wall looked toward the hills in fear.

"Now burn it," Major Estrada said after the soldier had cut the dummy loose, to fall on the ground, and then slid back down the flagpole.

"Not me, Major," said the soldier. "Don't make me do that."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I probably dead already for what I do. Don't make me go burning no magic."

"There is no magic except El Presidente's magic," snapped Estrada.

"Good. Let El Presidente's magic remove the

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dummy," the soldier said. "I will not." He picked up his rifle and walked back to his guard station.

Estrada scratched his head, then dragged the dummy to a maintenance room near the palace garage, where he threw it on a pile of garbage.

Corazon thanked Estrada for removing the effigy. The president sat in his throne room, the saltshaker tied about his neck on a leather thong.

"We going to get rid of that old hungan in the mountains," he said.

"Who's going to do it?" asked Estrada.

"Me. You. The army."

"They scared. You be lucky to get six soldiers to go with you."

"They're afraid of what?"

"You hear those drums getting louder? They peeing their pants," Estrada said.

"I got the machine."

"The machine is a month old," Estrada said. "They haven't had time to learn to be afraid of it. But they been afraid of these drums all their lives."

"We gonna go anyway and get that old man. Then nobody is left to challenge me. The Americans probably on their way home by now."

"When you going to go?" asked Estrada.

"We are going as soon as I decide to go," Corazon said. He waved Estrada away with his hand.

It was 9 A.M.

By 9:45 A.M., a new dummy of Generalissimo Corazon hung from the flagpole in the palace courtyard.

None of the guards had seen anybody lift the dummy up the flag rope. And none could explain how the body of Private Torrez, who had climbed the pole

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to remove the first dummy, had gotten to the base of the flagpole.

Torrez was dead. His heart had been cut from his body.

This time no one would go up the flagpole to remove the manikin.

Estrada told this to Corazon, who came out onto the side steps of the palace and shouted:

"Hey, you, up there in the guard tower. Climb up that pole and get that dummy down."

The guard kept his back to Corazon and looked out over Ciudad Natividado.

"Hey, I calling you. Don't you hear me?"

The guard did not move a muscle to respond.

Corazon yelled orders to three other guards.

They ignored him.

And silence hung over the courtyard as Corazon stopped yelling, silence made deeper by the throbbing of the drums.

For the first time, Corazon looked at the dummy. It was another stuffed soldier's uniform, replete with medals imitating Corazon's fruit-salad chest.

A banner was tacked to the chest of this dummy, too. A dark cloud passed overhead, carrying a hint of rain and a puff of wind. It unfurled the banner.

The legend read:

"I wait for you today. At the pits. My power against your power."

Corazon screamed an anguished cry, compounded of hatred and annoyance and fear.

He turned to Estrada.

"Round up as many men as you can for this afternoon. We going up there to get rid of this man once and for all."

"Right, El Presidente," said Estrada. "Right."

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Corazon went inside to wait.

When Remo awoke from his nap, he knew it was back. His breathing was low and slow, filling his lungs with air, and he could feel the oxygen coursing through his body, flooding his muscles with a quiet energy. His senses were sharp. As he had ever since arriving in Baqia he heard the drums, but he also heard children and an occasional vehicle and chickens. One chicken was having its neck wrung. A jeep went by, tapping the tune of a defective cylinder. Children were skipping rope nearby. The smell of vegetables was in the air, but Remo no longer had to wonder what Ruby had cooked for them. He smelled turnip greens and some kind of mustardy vegetable, and there was a faint cooking aroma of vinegar.

"Chiun," Remo called as he hopped up off his cot, "I'm back together again."

"Sheeit," came Ruby's voice. "Everybody watch theyselves now. He's back together again. As bad as new."