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the magnificent body I have trained."
"Not a chance," Remo said, returning Chiun's side.
The Master of Sinanju held the blade firmly in both hands, the blade tip
touching the ground, making a dent. It was real. It had weight.
Then they remembered the ronin. Remo and Chiun turned their heads in unison.
A vile greenish black smoke was boiling out of the downed missile. The flames
were dying down, but the smoke was thickening. It rose into the sky like a
black dragon in the throes of its death torment.
The surrounding flatlands were hazy with chemical smoke. The wind was blowing
away from them, but the haze in the air started to sting their eyes anyway.
There was no sign of the ronin anywhere in the haze.
"He's in the corn," said Remo.
"No, he walked into the fire," insisted Chiun.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he can with impunity," said Chiun.
They ran to the burning MX missile.
"No tracks that I can see," said Remo as they approached.
"Of course not. Ghosts do not make tracks. Except when they wish for devious
purposes."
"If he's a ghost, shouldn't his blade be a ghost, too?"
"Do not split hairs with me, Remo. We must find him."
They didn't.
The poisonous smoke from the destroyed MX missile prevented them from getting
too close. Moving upwind, they examined it from every angle with searching
eyes.
If the ronin had walked into the smoking missile, there was no way to tell.
"I say we try the corn," said Remo.
"One of us must stay to see that he does not emerge from the smoke."
"I'll go."
"No, you will only gorge yourself on corn."
"Okay, you go."
"Yes, I will go. See that he does not not escape under your very nose."
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And Chiun flashed into the corn.
Remo watched the smoking missile, one eye on the corn.
The tall ears waved in a soft breeze but otherwise didn't move or rustle.
Chiun was slipping through the rows with such stealth the ronin would never
see or hear him coming.
THE MASTER of SINANJU plunged into the lurid forest of corn. Its scent called
to him. Its golden allure whispered of forbidden pleasures. He ignored them
all. He had one goal, one purpose.
Unfortunately he also faced many paths. North or south? Perhaps west. His
hazel eyes raking the ground discovered no tracks. His ears heard nothing of
his foe. And the only scent on the wind was the maddening reek of uncooked
corn, which swayed like brazen harlots with long yellow hair.
In the end it was the overwhelming numbers, not his illusive foe, that
defeated him. Holding his nose, he raced through the cornrows back in the
direction he had come.
AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES, the Master of Sinanju emerged, looking unhappy.
"No luck?" Remo asked.
"Luck has nothing to do with what has happened in this riceless land," Chiun
spit. "He is not in the corn."
"In other words, you lost him."
"Pah! My senses were dazzled by the malevolent miasma of raw corn."
By this time Melvis Cupper trotted up. "I seen it all and I deny it ever
happened," were his first words.
Remo looked at him. "You're a big help."
"It ain't my idea. That major woke up and said that was the way it was going
to play. I see no reason not to oblige him."
"You know as well as we do that a samurai caused both train wrecks."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about. I got only one wreck. This here's a
haz-mat situation. No derailment. No striking train. No cars in a ditch."
"What about the missile?"
"I don't do missiles. I'm strictly a high-iron-and-steel-wheel man." Melvis
lowered his voice. "Somebody should drop a dime in the general direction of
the EPA, though."
"So what are you going to report caused the Amtrak collision?"
"That? That was suicide. Yessir, naked suicide."
"Homicide is more like it," said Remo.
Melvis puckered up his weather-beaten face. "Tell you what. We'll split the
difference. Let's say for the sake of sayin' there was these two sexually
confused persons. One gave the other AIDS. The infected party takes the head
off the party of the second part and then goes out in a blaze of diesel and
glory. End result-homo-suicide."
"That's bull and you know it," said Remo.
Melvis put on a crooked grin. "You knew I was weak from the first time you
laid eyes on me."
Chapter 20
They waited until the MX Peacekeeper missile burned itself out.
A cursory examination of the white-hot slag heap that remained led to one
inescapable conclusion.
"Looks like he went into the corn after all," said Remo.
"Pah," said Chiun.
The Master of Sinanju paced back and forth before the slag, face tight, eyes
squeezed to slits that reminded Remo of the seams of uncracked walnuts. He
shook his fists at the ascending smoke.
"We're going to have to report this to Smitty," he reminded.
"I do not care."
"We're going to have to get our stories straight."
Chiun frowned like a thundercloud getting ready to rain. "I no longer care. I
have been twice bested by a mere ronin. My ancestors are surely weeping tears
of blood over my shame."
K. C. CROCKETT WAS waiting for them at the helicopter. She gave them a nervous
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corn-fed smile as they approached.
"Thought I'd guard your box for you," she said sheepishly.
Chiun bowed in her direction without saying anything.
"You didn't catch your spook, did you?" she asked.
"No," said Melvis. "It was the durnest, dangest, most spiflicated thing you
ever did see. And I take my hat off to the Almighty that I don't have to write
it into any report."
"Just as well. It ain't good to catch spooks."
"We're going to need a lift back to Lincoln," Remo told Melvis.
"Suits me fine." Melvis showed K.C. his Sunday smile. "Don't suppose I could
interest you in a ride goin' my way?"
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