Warren Murphy - Judgment Day

In the middle part of the twentieth Western century, there was in a land across the big water, an emperor named Smith. He was also called Doctor Smith, as if this should be a title of respect, but few knew him and even fewer respected him.

It was to this land, then called the United States of America, that the Master came those many years ago, and in the service of the Emperor Smith did find himself.

But there was no wisdom in this Emperor Smith and he did not deal with the Master in truth and friendship, but made the Master instead responsible for trying to train baboons to play violins. Still, the Master worked with dignity and honor and loyalty for years for Smith, doing all that was asked of him, and doing it without words of anger, spite, or unceasing complaint (This was unusual in that land at that time, because the native people were much given to complaining of things which, was called kvetching. But this was not a surprise to the Master, since they were a people without culture and, in fact, produced nothing of value to the world except dignified stories of troubled people, which they showed to the Master on a special picture box that was then called television.) The Master remained in the service of Smith because it was an evil time in Sinanju and it was necessary that gold be sent to care for the poor and the sick and the young and the old.

Among the many services the Master performed with honor for Emperor Smith was the training of a man as the Master's assistant, which is a kind of servant. To this man, the Master gave some of the secrets of Sinanju, but he did not give all of them because this servant was incapable of grasping them, but the Master did give him enough to teach him to come in out of the rain. This made the servant a man unique in that day and age in the land called the United States.

Smith was not a truly evil emperor since he fulfilled his bargain with the Master and always provided the tribute due to the village of Sinanju, and it was right that he should do this.

But toward the end of his reign, Smith began to lose his senses. The Master, of course, in his wisdom saw this but he did not confide it to anyone since in a land where no one has all his wits about him, Smith might have gone on for many years, a stark, raving lunatic, but apparently normal and still emperor.

However, in quiet ways, the Master tried to help Smith by offering him advice on how to stay in power and how not to be overthrown by his enemies. But Smith would not heed.

Then, one day, while the Master was away from Smith's palace on a most important mission, Smith disappeared. There will be those who might say that this was the Master's fault; that some blame should be placed upon him for this.

But let all who read these words heed these facts and reject this complaint as untruth. The Master worried about Smith, but if Smith waited until the Master was away on a mission and took that precise moment to go fully insane and to wander out into the vast uncharted wildernesses of his country, then the Master could not be blamed.

Is this not so?

A word about the kind of emperor Smith was. While he was the emperor and himself paid the tribute to the Master of Sinanju, he was chosen as emperor by another man, who was a type of overlord chosen by all the people of that country in a national disgrace called an election.

And this overlord chose as the new emperor a man whose mind was even more unstrung than Smith's.

And this new emperor, whose name was that of Garbage, wanted the Master to do many things, most of them demeaning and all of them stupid. The Master would not do these things. Instead, he allowed his servant whose name was Remo, and who was unable to tell a crazed mind from a healthy one, to do those things.

And that servant was called upon to destroy the mad emperor Smith, and many things happened before the matter was resolved to everyone's satisfaction.

However, it was agreed by everyone, and even the overlord who was above the emperor, that the Master of Sinanju had covered himself again with glory and honor, even though in the service of a madman, and it was agreed by all the people of this land called the United States of America, that the Master was a man of wisdom and justice, and could not be blamed for what a crazed emperor might try to do when the Master was many thousands of miles away in a place they called at that time Grosse Pointe.

All hail the Master of Sinanju.

Remo finished reading and rolled up the scroll again.

"Well?" Chiun demanded.

"I'd give it a pretty good mark."

"What is it, this pretty good mark?"

"I'd give you an A for style and originality of thought, but only a C minus for content, and a D for penmanship."

"Is that all good?" asked Chiun.

"Yes," said Remo. "It's very good."

"I am pleased," Chiun said, "because it is important that the world know the entire truth about this unfortunate incident of Smith's madness."

"No worry about that anymore," Remo said. "Not now that you've got all the straight dope down on paper."

"Parchment. I have written it for the ages."

"You have done wonderfully," Remo said.

"Thank you, Remo. It is most important."

And then both were silent until they had left the plane, taxied to Washington and checked into the Lafayette Hotel under the name of J. Walker and Mr. Park.

Remo had convinced Chiun that they would not stay in Washington for the night. He had thereby persuaded Chiun that he did not need to bring his usual seven trunks of robe changes. Instead, Chiun carried only a silken scarf which was filled with things that he insisted were necessary for his well-being, including his written record of the perfidy of Smith.

Remo turned on the television set and he and Chiun sat on the floor to wait, but before the set had even warmed up, the telephone rang.

Remo went to the phone.

The voice that spoke to him was Smith's. For a moment, Remo felt almost pleased to hear the lemon-sour humorless whine again and to realize that Smith was alive. That feeling lasted only until Smith had completed his first sentence.

"Trust you to ignore the air shuttle and catch a first-class flight to Washington.".

"What have you done?" Remo asked. "Gone into the travel agency business?"

"Not yet," Smith said. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Those are my orders."

"Do you believe I'm insane?"

"I always believed you were insane."

"All right. We might as well get on with it. In an hour, I'll be in Room 224 of the Windsor Park Hotel. That's just off Pennsylvania Avenue. It's now 9:36. I'll see you there at 10:35."

"Okay, Smitty."

All Remo heard was a click in his ear. It was annoying. He had wanted to tell Smith that his wife had been asking for him.

Remo turned to Chiun. "Smith," he explained.

Chiun rose slowly, his dark brown robe swirling about his sandaled feet.

"And now?"

"I'm going to meet him."

"And?"

"And do what you trained me to do."

Chiun shook his head. "You should not," he said. "You have a contract with Smith. Who is this Mr. Garbage that he should order you to violate that contract?"

"He is my new boss. My emperor."

"Then he is emperor of a kingdom of fools. I am going with you."

"I don't want you to, Chiun," said Remo.

"I know you do not and that is why I am going. To protect you from your stupidity. Some day you will set down your own history and I want you to be able to set it down with truth and honesty, as I did, so that men will know you did what was best. If I do not go with you, you will do what is stupid."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it is what you do best."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The door to Room 224 of the Windsor Park Hotel was unlocked.

Remo pushed it open and stepped inside. He might have had contempt for Smith as a skinflint, but he never figured him for a fool, so he moved in carefully, alert, ready to move if Smith had somehow booby-trapped him.