• Пожаловаться

Warren Murphy: The Last Temple

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Warren Murphy: The Last Temple» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Детективная фантастика / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

libcat.ru: книга без обложки

The Last Temple: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Last Temple»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

The bodies of two murdered Israelis have turned up, hacked to bits and the pieces arranged in a bloody swastika - and Remo and Chiun are on their way to meet the leaders of an Israeli doomsday group, Zeher Lahurban. In the event of Israel losing the war with the Arabs, secretly stored atom bombs will drop on Arab territory. But a group of ex-Nazis discover the plan, and see a way to destroy the Jewish nation once and for all - without any help from the Arabs. Remo and Chiun are up against fanatics with long memories, who are keeping Hitler's schemes alive in their twisted minds.

Warren Murphy: другие книги автора


Кто написал The Last Temple? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

The Last Temple — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Last Temple», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

"I miss my daytime dramas," finished Chiun's voice, as if he had been shouting into an empty auditorium.

Remo knew he could never win, so he turned off the shower, washed his hands in the sink, turned off the faucets, and came back into the living room.

"What do you mean?" he asked, drying his hands on a towel emblazoned with the huge green letters, PARIS HILTON. "Never mind, I know. Smith stopped sending you your video tapes."

Chiun remained sitting in the lotus position, his head turned slightly to the side, his eyes cocked and ready to fire.

"I could understand dishonesty. It is a characteristic of you whites. But deceit? What is the use of a lifetime of dedication?"

Remo moved over to Chiun's personal video playback machine, which was lying on its side on the other side of the room.

"Get with it, Chiun. What's the matter?" Remo asked, picking up the machine and bringing it over.

"Observe," said Chiun, as he snapped a videotape cassette up and into the playback slot.

Remo watched as 525 gray vertical lines spread across the screen, coming together into a color moving picture of a housewife in a childish mini-dress carrying a large bowl into a living room.

The housewife wore her long brown hair in two fat braids with bangs above her wide oval eyes and overbite below.

"I brought some chicken soup for him," the housewife said to another housewife actress who looked like a chicken in slacks. "I heard he was sick."

The chicken housewife took the bowl and gave it to her bundled-up, drunk husband, then the two women sat on a couch, to talk.

Remo was about to ask what was wrong with this, since it looked as slow and dull as any other soap opera Chiun felt the need to watch, when the TV husband fell forward in a drunken stupor and drowned in the bowl of chicken soup.

Remo stared as Chiun sputtered: "Emperor Smith promised to send me my daytime dramas. The glorious 'As the Planet Revolves.' The golden 'All My Offspring.' Instead I receive…"

Chiun raised his already high voice to a squeal, " 'Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman!' "

Remo smirked as the ladies discovered the smothered man on the screen. "I don't see what is so awful, Little Father."

"Of course, you wouldn't, pale piece of pig's ear. Any garbage would look good to a man who turns on all the water outlets to drown out his mentor's proclamations."

Remo turned to the Korean. "What's wrong with it?" he asked, motioning to the set.

"What is wrong?" exclaimed Chiun, as if any child could see. "Where is the drunken doctor? Where is the unwed mother, the suicidal wife? Where are the children on drugs? Where are all the things that have made America great?"

Remo glanced back at the video screen. "I'm sure they're there, Chiun, just handled with a little more realism, that's all."

"You whites find a way to ruin everything, don't you?" said Chiun. "If I want realism, I talk to you or some other imbecile. If I want beauty, I watch my daytime dramas."

Chiun rose from his mat in a smooth movement that gave the impression of pale yellow smoke rising. He moved to four blue and gold lacquered steamer trunks that lay in the corner atop and crowding out one of the suite's beds. As Remo watched more of the TV show, Chiun opened the trunk and started hurling out merchandise.

Remo turned as small bars of soap started dropping around him.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, removing a washcloth with a Holiday Inn imprint from his shoulder.

"I am trying to find the contract between the House of Sinanju and Emperor Smith. I am sure that sending 'Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman' instead of 'The Old and the Agitated' is a breach of our agreement. If this is how they value my services, I am leaving before the worst comes."

Remo went over to where Chiun's small frame had disappeared into the large trunk.

"Hold on, Little Father. It's just a mistake. They haven't done anything else wrong, have they?"

Chiun rose quickly, a feigned look of surprise on his wrinkled parchment face.

"They sent me you, didn't they?" he cackled, then sank into the luggage again. "Heh, heh, heh," his voice echoed. "They sent me you, didn't they? Heh, heh, heh."

Remo began to pick up the trunk's contents that littered the suite floor like autumn leaves after a rainstorm.

"Hold it, hold it. What's this, Little Father?" Remo held a small bottle up to the light. "Seagram's, courtesy of American Airlines?" He picked up another. "Johnny Walker Black, Fly me, Eastern Airlines? Smirnoff's, thanks for flying TWA?"

Chiun rose again from the trunk, a slow-blooming flower of innocence.

"One never knows when those things might be needed," he said.

"We don't drink. And what's this?" continued Remo, stooping to pick up more items from the floor, "Matches from the Showboat, The Four Seasons Restaurant, Howard Johnson's? Toothpicks? These mints must be five years old."

"They were offered to me," said Chiun. "It would be bad manners not to accept."

Remo held up a final item.

"An ashtray with Cinzano on it?"

Chiun leaned over, looking slightly perplexed. "I do not remember that. Is it yours? Have you been smuggling junk in with my treasures?"

Remo turned back to the TV screen. "I've always wondered what you filled those trunks with. I've been lugging a junk shop with me all these years."

"I cannot find the contract," declared Chiun, "so I find myself unable to quit. Because to me, unlike you and that madman Smith, my word of honor is sacred."

"Awwww," Remo clucked in sympathy.

"However, I must take steps to bring these annoyances to an end. Smith must increase the payment to the village of Sinanju and send real tapes from real shows."

"Come on, Little Father, Sinanju must be getting enough from us by now to platinum-plate your outhouses."

"Gold, not platinum," said Chiun. "They only deliver gold. And it is not enough. It is never enough. Do you not remember the terrible devastation that gripped our tiny village just a scant few years ago?"

"It's enough. And that was at least a thousand years ago," said Remo, knowing his protest was not enough to keep Chiun from his umpteenth retelling of the legend of Sinanju, a poor fishing village in North Korea that was forced to hire its people out as master assassins to avoid drowning their children in the bay because of poverty.

And for centuries after, the Masters of Sinanju had done admirably. At least in the monetary sense. Chiun, the present Master was doing the best of all. Even allowing for inflation.

"So you see," finished Chiun, "how enough is never enough, and the seas and sky never change, yet Sinanju stays the same."

Remo tried to stifle a yawn, purposely failed, then said, "Fine. Good. Can I go to sleep now? Smitty is supposed to contact us soon. I need my rest."

"Yes, my son. You can go to sleep. Just as soon as we have taken steps to protect others from this Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman."

"We?" Remo said from the bed. "Why we?"

"I need you," said Chiun, "because there is some stupid trivial menial work involved." Chiun moved over to the desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper and pen. "I want to know who is responsible for 'Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman,' " he said.

"I think it's Norman Lear, Norman Lear," said Remo.

Chiun nodded. "I have heard of this man. He has done much to ruin American television." The Master lifted the pen and paper and dropped them onto Remo's stomach. "Take a letter."

Remo grumbled, watching Chiun move to his mat and settle softly into the lotus position. "Are you ready?" the Master inquired.

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «The Last Temple»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Last Temple» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


libclub.ru: книга без обложки
libclub.ru: книга без обложки
Warren Murphy
Warren Murphy: An Old Fashioned War
An Old Fashioned War
Warren Murphy
libclub.ru: книга без обложки
libclub.ru: книга без обложки
Warren Murphy
Warren Murphy: Blood Lust
Blood Lust
Warren Murphy
Warren Murphy: Lost Yesterday
Lost Yesterday
Warren Murphy
Отзывы о книге «The Last Temple»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Last Temple» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.