Warren Murphy: In Enemy Hands

Ludmilla persisted. "It would be different if that old goblin gave something to you. But nothing except complaints. This is how you spend your life? Listening to him complain? Why is he here? Why is he with us?"

"He's really a nice old geezer," Remo said. "Besides, he has his strong points."

"Yes?"

"Yes," said Remo.

"Tell me one of his strong points."

Remo thought a moment. How to tell her that Chiun was more deadly than a whole military division, more powerful than plutonium, more accurate than calculus. How to tell her?

"He's all right," Remo said. "He knows a lot of things."

"He knows how to get old and sponge off his betters and his youngers," Ludmilla said. "Too bad for you that you do not send him away."

"Well…" Remo was noncomittal. "That's the way it goes."

He was spared further conversation by the crowd. Instead of a roar, there was a hush and then every voice in the room was silent, and Remo turned toward the entrance to the supper club.

Walking down the aisle through the tables was Chiun, wearing a black robe, and on his arm, towering a head over him, was Miss Jacquanne Juice, headliner of the show at the Crystal Hotel. She wore a scanty white gown and nothing else.

Remo looked at them, as did every other pair of eyes in the room.

"Stop looking at her," Ludmilla said.

"I'm not," Remo said. "I'm looking at Chiun. The old fox is enjoying this."

There was a spattering of applause. Like a heavyweight fighter, Chiun waved, a king's gesture to quiet the unruly mob.

Then Chiun and Jacquanne were at the table and the headwaiter helped seat them, and slowly the room returned to its steady buzzing as customers went back to their drinks.

Chiun smiled. "Remo, this is Miss Jacquanne Juice. Or something like that. This is Remo, who is better than he looks."

Chiun stopped and Remo cleared his throat.

"Oh," Chiun said. "This…" He waved toward Ludmilla. "This is a Russian woman. This is Miss Jacquanne Juice."

Ludmilla nodded. Jacquanne looked at her, then said, "You're beautiful."

Chiun nudged her under the table, but Remo said, "Yes, isn't she?"

"So are you," Chiun said to Jacquanne. "You are most beautiful. The most beautiful woman Remo has ever seen. Isn't that right, Remo?"

Remo shrugged and looked at Ludmilla.

"Isn't that right, Remo?" Chiun persisted.

"What is your name?" Jacquanne asked Ludmilla.

"Ludmilla."

"You are beautiful. Truly beautiful."

"Thank you." It did not occur to Ludmilla to return the compliment; it did not occur to Jacquanne to hint at it.

Chiun said, "You are truly beautiful," to Jacquanne. "Don't you think so, Remo?"

Remo nodded, reluctantly.

"And she makes a very good living, Remo. She has her own band, and people who walk around fastening her brassieres and everything," Chiun explained.

Remo nodded again.

Ludmilla said, "Remo, I have a headache. I think I'd like to go back to my room."

"All right." Remo stood.

"You are coming back, though, Remo, right?" said Chiun.

"I doubt it." Ludmilla answered for Remo.

Chiun looked dejected. Jacquanne could not take her eyes off the Russian woman. Remo shrugged.

"Good night, Chiun. Good night, Miss…'' Remo said.

"Juice," said Chiun. "Jacquanne Juice."

"Good night, Miss Juice," Remo said.

"Good night," said Ludmilla. "Miss Juice. Old man." And when Chiun met her eyes, she winked-the wink of a winner to a loser, and then she turned and led Remo from the supper club.

They had gone only two steps toward the exit when Remo was stopped by an order, barked by Chiun in Korean.

Remo turned. He felt Ludmilla stop and look back also. Chiun, speaking a fast flow of Korean words, picked up the dinner knife at the table. He held it in his left hand, handle between his fingertips, then with the tip of his right index finger struck the knife three times, with no more apparent force than if he were poking someone in the chest to make a point. The first two pokes broke off pieces of the steel knifeblade; the third poke split the silver alloy handle into two pieces which fell on the table in front of Chiun.

He nodded to Remo who nodded back before pulling Ludmilla toward the door. She was looking over the shoulder at Chiun and the pieces of knife in front of him.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"It was Korean," Remo said. " 'Even a knife may shatter; even a strong man may fall.' "

Ludmilla was still looking over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed.

"How did he do that with the knife?"

"Who knows?" said Remo.

"Can you do it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Chiun understands more about objects than I do. It has something to do with vibrations."

They were at the door and Remo led the way out. Ludmilla kept staring at Chiun until the door closed behind them.

The next day Marshal Denia arrived in Las Vegas.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ludmilla had begged off the trip to the desert to see Remo's magic spring, pleading an upset stomach; Remo had gone out to walk around Las Vegas; and Chiun was alone in their room when a messenger came.

"I must see you. L."

Chiun crumpled the message and dropped it on the floor, then walked up to Ludmilla's room.

When he entered, she was seated at her dressing table, her back to Chiun, wearing only a bluish robe that made her skin seem to glow a pale yellow. She smiled at Chiun in the mirror, a dropped eyes coy smile, then carefully closed her open robe before she spun on her chair and faced him.

"I have asked you to come so I could apologize to you," she said. "I have treated you badly."

"I am always treated badly," Chiun said.

"I know how it must be. No one understands you; they ask much of you but give nothing in return."

Chiun nodded. The faint tendrils of hair over his ears continued nodding after his head had stopped.

"Well, I do not wish to be one of those ungrateful ones," said Ludmilla. She rose and walked to Chiun who stood just inside the door. She took his two hands in hers. "I am sorry," she said.

"Why?" said Chiun.

"I am sorry for my rudeness, but more for my stupidity. I realize all I could learn from your wisdom and your gentleness and like a fool I have rejected that gift of friendship you offered me."

Chiun nodded again.

She reached her right hand to touch the side of his face. As her left arm left her side, the front of her dressing gown slipped open. She moved even closer to Chiun, so close their bodies almost touched. "Can you forgive me?" she said.

"Yes," said Chiun. He looked down at Ludmilla's flawless skin, shadowed yellow by the blue of the gown. "You are a lovely woman," he said.

She smiled at him again and left her hand on the side of his face. "Thank you," she said. "But beauty is a gift of God; wisdom is an achievement of character."

"That is true," Chiun said. "That is true. Most never see that truth."

"Most never have their eyes fully open," she said. She leaned even closer to him.

"And what of Remo?" Chiun said.

Ludmilla shrugged. The movement almost, but not quite, released her breasts from her gown. "Who looks at the sapling when he stands on the edge of the forest?"

And again Chiun nodded, and as he did, Ludmilla leaned forward and moved her face down to his, searching for his lips with hers. As she found them, she said softly, "I have never been made love to by a Master of Sinanju."

And afterwards, she said-and meant it-"Never before like that."

She lay next to Chiun in her bed, his body still clothed in his red kimono, hers covered by a sheet, and laughed.

"To think of Remo telling me his power came from a magic spring."

"The child likes to joke," Chiun said.

"But the power is Sinanju, isn't it?" she said.