Warren Murphy: Terror Squad

As Remo watched, he saw, with a sinking feeling, the figure of Dr. Harold W. Smith, moving around behind the police lines. But there was no sign of Chiun.

The announcer's voice said: "The diplomats from the major countries all have arrived now and are inside. The conference should soon begin. But the mood of the crowd is growing uglier by the moment and we understand that police reinforcements are being sent to the scene. We now switch to our pool cameras inside the meeting chambers."

The camera blanked, and then another camera picked up the inside of the assembly chambers where the antiterrorist meeting would be held. It was mostly empty, although the few gallery seats were already filled. A few second-string diplomats sat at chairs, and young aides scurried in and out, carrying papers and notebooks, placing them at different desks.

There was only a hushed buzz from the gallery as the camera watched and then another announcer's voice intoned: "You are looking at the main assembly chamber where today's conference on terrorism will be held. All is in readiness for the meeting which is expected to begin in another fifteen minutes. While the crowd outside is growing unruly, the feeling of diplomats here is that this is a great step forward for the forces of humanity in...."

him voice was punctuated by a couple of sharp reports. Two. Then three. Then a fusillade of what were obviously bullets. The announcer's voice again: "We don't know what's going on here, and we don't wish to alarm anyone unduly. But those certainly sounded like shots. I'm going to try to find out what happened, and in the meantime, we'll return you outside."

The screen blanked again and Nuihc began to laugh.

"Goodbye, dear Uncle Chiun," he said, cackling, and then nodded his head to Joan Hacker to turn off the television. He looked now at Remo.

"You now look at the new Master of Sinanju," Nuihc said.

Remo just stared.

"Do you not see? Are you so blind? Everything was geared for this moment. It was essential to produce a new level of skill in terrorism; that was the only way to assure that your government would assign you and Chiun the task of stopping me. That was why the trick of bringing the weapons onto the planes, past the new metal detectors. Did you wonder how I did it?"

"Anyone could have figured it out," Remo said, dully, his mind now whirling in confusion, in shock at the thought of Chiun dead.

"Yes, but no one did. Metal detectors are designed by definition to detect hidden metal. We brought the weapons aboard planes in the open, mounted onto obvious metal objects that people are psychologically used to not inspecting."

Remo thought for a moment; the thing had gnawed at his mind. "The wheelchair," he said.

"Of course," Nuihc said. "The wheelchairs were reinforced with weapons parts. No one likes to look at a wheelchair, so no one examines it closely. And of course, since it is metal, it shows up as metal on the metal detector. And no one pays it any attention. Clever, was it not?"

"A parlour trick," Remo said. "You should see what John Scarne can do with a deck of cards."

"You deprecate my skills," Nuihc said. "Think of the training. The instant competence. Did Chiun explain that competence can be bestowed easily, if the trainee is expendable? You can make him able to deal with a few simple things very well. But that flash of training breaks down the moment anything unforeseen or unexpected enters into the mission."

"Chiun told me of the assault on the mountain," Remo said.

"Of course," Nuihc responded. "Those peasants were given instant competence. But their inability to imagine being inside a castle was the surprise. And so they all died. And then I sent the warnings. First fat, then thin, then the dead animals. It was to let Chiun know who his opponent was."

"Why?" Remo asked.

"So he would worry more about you and less about himself. He has ... he had a strong instinct for survival, that one. It was necessary to disarm him by fragmenting his concentration."

"And then you had Joan here give me clues to get me here?" Remo asked.

"Yes. And that was the riskiest part. I knew that Chiun would not tell you of me, because he knew that would force you to prove your manhood by coming after me. I had to make you think you discovered me. So the clues could not be too blatant, lest you fear a trap. Yet, if they were too subtle, you would not understand them. That is not to downgrade you. It is the way with your western mind. And so you figured out what I wished you to figure out, and so you came, leaving Chiun alone to meet his death. And now you must decide."

"Decide what?" Remo asked,

"Will you join me? You have had experience working with the Master of Sinanju. Will you not now join the new Master as we move toward power over this globe?"

"And who elected you the new Master?" Remo asked coldly.

For a moment, Nuihc looked perplexed. Then he smiled and said, "There is no other."

"You're wrong," Remo said. "If Chiun is dead-which I doubt-if Chiun Is dead, then I claim the seat of the House of Sinanju. I am the Master."

Nuihc laughed. "You forget yourself. You are only a white man, and I am not those cretins you have met with out in the hallways."

"No, you're not," Remo said. "They were just poor simpletons, like this dumb child here. But you? You're something else, you are. You're a mad dog."

"Then," Nuihc said, "the lines are drawn. But tell me, do you not feel a tinge of fear in your stomach when you remember the beating I gave you when last we met. I told you then that in ten years you would be magnificent. Ten years have not passed."

"And finally, dog meat, you've made a mistake," Remo said. "It wasn't to be ten years. Chiun told me. We were this much apart." He held up his fingers, separating his thumb and index finger by only a quarter-inch. "Just this much. Chiun thought five years. And then he admitted he had been wrong. I came on faster than he thought; he told me I was better than you. How does it feel to be a perpetual also-ran, dog meat? All your life, Chiun was better than you. And now, when you say you've gotten rid of him, I'm better than you. It's all over, Nuihc. And I'm not bound by a vow not to kill someone from the village."

Nuihc's face moved, showing the tension underneath. Remo waited. He did not know if Chiun was dead or alive, but if he was dead, if Nuihc's evil scheme had worked, then this moment of Remo's life would be dedicated to the Master's memory. He reached deep into the dark corners of him mind for words he had heard Chiun say, and intoned softly:

"I am created Shiva, the Destroyer, death, the shatterer of worlds. The dead night tiger made whole by the Master of Sinanju. What is this dog meat that now challenges me?"

Nuihc screamed, deep in his throat, the wail of a cruel, evil cat, and then leaped toward Remo.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Yes, there was definitely something wrong. The attack was wrong. Nuihc had planned it, but he had not planned it the way it should have been planned to be effective. And that gnawed at Chiun, as he fell in and disappeared among the small crowd of Army officers that moved imperiously through the police lines and toward the front entrance of the United Nations building.

The idea of using Army uniforms as a shield was good, Chiun thought. Only a trained eye would have looked past the silver and gold and braid and ribbons to see that some of the faces were pale around the chin, where beards had only recently been shaved off, and the skin under had not yet had time to darken. Only a very trained eye might notice that there was among the group a little more swarthiness than one could expect in a group of twelve American army officers.

But that is what was wrong. A trained eye would notice those things, and Nuihc should know that a trained eye would be looking for them. He would know that Remo and Chiun would be here, watching, and their eyes would not overlook the evidence of the recently-made-hairless faces and the swarthiness.