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.Fourteen steamer trunks came out the fire exit in a caravan, led by Chiun, an Oriental wisp in a golden day robe."Ah, your colleague.""Hey, Chiun, this guy wants to kill us, but we've got a plane to catch.""Another amateur," said Chiun haughtily.And then, as in no other time in his life, Merton Lord Wissex felt the sting of insult.97"I beg your pardon.My family goes back to Henry the Eighth."Remo smiled tolerantly."That's very nice.""What did he say?" asked Chiun, turning back from his trunks for a moment."He said his was a new house," said Remo."New?" said Chiun."Less than a thousand years, right, buddy?" said Remo.He saw the tight British face turn pale."Yeah, Chiun.Less than a thousand years.He wants to kill us, I think.""Is he getting paid?" said Chiun."Tell me, good man, are you being paid?""Of course," harrumphed Merton Lord Wissex."See, Remo.Even this gets paid," said Chiun."Even this." And his bony hands and long fingernails pointed to the tweed vest of Merton Lord Wissex.Traffic to the airport was held up by a religious procession.Remo could make out the signs of the parade: "Stop Racist Murder.""What's that?" he asked the driver."A civil rights leader got killed yesterday.Here.It's in the paper."The Blade landed on the back seat.Chiun looked back to make sure the three extra taxis for his trunks were following closely.Remo read the story and shook his head.Apparently, a civil rights leader had been horribly murdered for the "crime of wanting to be free."There were statements from the religious leaders of the community.The archbishop said racism must be rooted out of the mind of Boston.A rabbi compared the hatred that killed the civil rights worker to the hatred that created the Holocaust.A protestant minister called for armed protection of all civil rights workers.It seemed the civil rights worker and his friend were found on Memorial Drive, mangled.The civil rights worker's name was Bubba.Remo wondered if he had seen the killer because he was at Memorial Drive the 98day before, just before the bodies had been found.He was dropping off his own bodies at the time.This man, however, was not a killer, like the two who had barged into Remo and Chain's office, but a person who had struggled for prison reform, a proud black revolutionary voice challenging the white conscience.His name was Bubba and Remo felt sorry that he had never met him.He probably would have liked him."Why don't we fly to St.Maarten's directly?" Chiun asked."Because the whole island had been quarantined.We have to sail in.""Why don't we sail all the way?""We don't have time.Western civilization may go under unless we get this cleaned up right away.""Why don't we sail all the way?" Chiun repeated."On a slow boat."Merton Lord Wissex heard the horrible news."But, sir," he said into the public telephone, "I know I can put them away.Page 48ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlYou don't want them.""You have described two people whom I wish to employ.What is the problem?"Friend asked."If they are dead, they are no problem, sir.""And if they are employed by me, they are an asset.""Do you know you can trust them?" asked Lord Wissex."We will find out, won't we?" said Friend.So with great bitterness in his craw, Lord Wissex rushed to the airport, where he followed the parade of fourteen lacquered steamer trunks until he found Remo and Chiun.He approached the old Oriental.The Oriental seemed a bit more polite."Sir, may I speak to you about employment?" said Lord Wissex."Absolutely.You're hired," said the Oriental."Talk to Remo about salary."99"No, sir.You misunderstand.My employer wishes to hire you, sir," said Lord Wissex."And he is?" asked Chiun."I call him Friend.""We don't work for friends," said Chiun."We are professional.Are you sure you wouldn't care to work for us, carrying things, taking care of our clothes?The thing I like most about you Britons is that you know your place."Raging hatred filled the marrow of Lord Wissex.Words did not move up through the throat.Even the blood felt still and hot in his body."Yes, I would love to buttle for you, sir," said Lord Wissex.Those were the words that finally came out of his mouth.He smiled.Once, as a boy, his foot had gotten caught in a trap on his father's estate.The teeth of the trap had bitten to the bone.But that trap hurt far less than the smile he pushed out onto his face at this moment as he said he would love to serve the Oriental."I am the Master of Sinanju, and this is my pupil, Remo.Remo, come here.We have a real British servant.They are so good.Not as good as Persian but the best whites in the world."On the plane, Lord Wissex insisted he serve the tea to his new masters.He would not allow the stewardesses to do it.They lacked proper respect."See," said Chiun."The British know."Remo still had his copy of The Blade.He turned to the front page.There was a big article about the publisher, Bradford Wakefield III, having died of a heart attack in a mystery death.His boat had been found floating off the coast of Maine, with Mr.Wakefield dead of a heart attack and his crew also dead.The crew's deaths appeared to have been from natural causes, too, because it looked as if they had fallen and hit themselves [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]