“He’d be lynched if he did. We like having a variety.”
“You insure that nothing ever gets accomplished,” Chiun said.
“We make sure none of the stinkers last more than eight years,” Remo said.
“You steer me from my point with your meaningless subtexts,” Chiun said reasonably. “You must agree that a monarchy is always better for Sinanju than a democracy.”
“Huh. I don’t agree. Neither do you.”
“Do not tell me what I think, Remo Williams.”
“Let me put it this way. Has Sinanju ever made more over the long haul than it has working for the U.S.? You’re one of the greatest profit-making Masters of all time.”
Chiun couldn’t help himself. He broke out into a huge, silly smile. “Remo, that is such a compliment.”
“And it’s sincere,” Remo said. “Right from the heart.”
“I can tell.”
“And you did it by working for a democracy.”
Chiun was still taken aback by Remo’s uncharacteristic praise, so he conceded the point without further argument. “Still,” he added, “there would be few options should Smith one day decide not to renew the contract. But if there was a new empire…”
“Yeah?”
“A new British Empire,” Chiun added.
“What? Are you saying it would be a good thing?”
Chiun huffed. “Of course. It would be a
“What?”
“The game in which one nation tries to be better or richer or more powerful than the other.”
“One-upmanship?”
“As I said. These are the rivalries in which huge sums of gold will be paid to a careful assassin, who in turn might adjust the situation himself to help retain the balance of power.”
“And keep himself employed indefinitely.”
“Perhaps.”
Remo stopped suddenly and faced Chiun, a strange look on his face. “Aha!”
“What?”
“It was you, all this time, you old faker. For years and years and years, it was you who invented all these problems just so Smith would keep you around and keep paying you more and more gold.”
“You speak nonsense!”
“Do I, Chiun? Or did
“Of course I did not, and know you do not believe it, either. You are being oaffish.”
“You did it all just so we would have work, you and I. It all makes sense to me now. You masterminded all that organized crime and you even arranged for us to have worthy foes to fight. Mr. Gordons was something you came up with, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Friend, too? And Sam Beasly?”
“Please cease speaking.”
“That bitch Judy with the chemistry set?”
Chiun stared balefully at Remo, who was on a roll. “Now that I think of it, you had a pet squid in the tanks when we lived in Boston and one day he’s gone, poof, and years later—”
“Enough!” Chiun surrendered, his voice like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“I think some of the Ayoundis winced just now,” Remo said, nodding at the litter of unaccessorized corpses piled up nearby.
“If so, it would be because they find you insufferable,” Chiun exclaimed. “As do I. Truly amazing it is how quickly you can go from being kindly to being heartless and cruel.”
Remo felt himself slump, at least on the inside. “Just trying to ease the gloom some, Little Father.”
“At my expense!”
Remo wanted to point out that Chiun took shots at him all the time, but he didn’t. He didn’t know what to say. Chiun walked away, then looked back. “Well? Are you coming?”
“There is a nobility to the act of conquest, Remo,” Chiun said.
“Bulldookey.”
“The European’s practiced nation conquering for centuries,” Chiun pointed out. “It was considered noble.”
“Now it’s considered to be terrorism,” Remo said. “The recolonizers are just terrorists, too, in my book.”
“Your book is new and not researched well,” Chiun remarked. “A book of history indicates that taking control of a nation is a noble deed. Recall that your own nation has done such nation taking recently.”
“With good reason the first time and probably the second time,” Remo snapped. “Maybe the second time. We had a good reason the first time—I’m sure of that.”
“No one who ever took over a nation did so claiming they did not have a good reason for doing so,” Chiun replied, passing judgment by acting nonjudgmental.
“You think we should let the terrorists keep their colonies, don’t you?” Remo said.
“It is legitimate for the conqueror to hold the spoils of his conquest,” Chiun said.
“It’s giving in to the demands of terrorists,” Remo responded. “The country that pays Sinanju its gold doesn’t do what terrorists tell it to do.”
Chiun said nothing. The silence was disturbing. Remo made a conscious effort to think along different lines. Why was Chiun trying so hard? The old Master wasn’t laying down the law this time. He was really trying to convince Remo of something important, wasn’t he?
