And yet all the officials who should have been crying foul were not. It looked as if this was truly going to happen. The people certainly thought so; spectators were pouring out to greet the new monarch, and Wylings’s procession had been slowed from a brisk march to a slow walk. Wylings could be patient. If only his bottom weren’t in such blasted agony.
He drew the curtains and fumbled for his cell phone, flipping it open and saying, “The queen.”
It dialed the queen. She never, ever answered her own telephone, but that was fine. “This is Sir James Wylings. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is the queen’s personal attendant, Alfred Herlingwythe.”
Wylings chuckled. “Herlingwythe, I know for a fact you’re with the queen’s special protection detail. Never mind. Is everything being prepared?”
“Just as you requested, Sir Wylings.” Herlingwythe’s teeth were making grinding sounds as he spoke.
“Everyone has received my instructions as to what is to occur and what is not to occur?” Sir Wylings asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to remind you of the consequences, Herlingwythe, should anything go wrong. The consequences would be most dire. The very phone I am speaking on can release any one of my weapons or all of them. Have you been informed that I planted four weapons within the city of London?”
“I have, sir.”
“They’ll release themselves if I don’t send the correct signal every two hours. You’d best remember that I need to stay in good health and good humor.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Does everyone else understand? I imagine you have ten or fifteen people listening in on this call.”
“We all understand, Sir Wylings.”
“Just to be absolutely sure you understand, I will tell you what will happen. Five or six million Londoners will experience agonizing death. Is that
“Quite perfectly clear, Sir Wylings.”
“Good! Glad to hear it! I’ll be along eventually. Bye-bye.”
Wylings clicked off the phone.
“And hello.”
It was an odd experience for Sir James Wylings when he heard the voice of another human being. It was inside the carriage with him. But there was no one inside the carriage with him. It was as tight as a confessional in there and thus easy enough to be aware of others.
But when he looked up from his phone he found not one, but two other human beings in the carriage with him. The side door was still tightly closed. Even the curtains remained drawn.
“What in blazes?”
“Shh,” said the younger one, who had an American accent. “You had best just not say anything. We’re both pretty mad at you right about now. I don’t know which one of us is more ticked off.”
Wylings tried to fling his arms out and dash madly from the carriage, but the young one had a hand on his shoulder and Wylings wasn’t going anywhere. He tried to scream, but the man clamped his mouth shut, and that hand wasn’t moving with a crowbar.
Wylings got a good look his captor, a slim man of indeterminate age and unexceptional looks. In fact, only his wrists were distinctive. They were abnormally thick, as if they were excessively muscled.
The other one was quite unusual. He was ancient, Asian and tiny, with hazel eyes and wisps of yellowing hair over his ears and a few yellowing threads of a beard.
When the hand come off his mouth, Wylings gasped, “Sinanju.”
“Hey, you’re a fan.”
“I never really believed it could, be true. I believed Sinanju was just a fairy tale.”
“You’re the one riding around in a gold carriage, princess,” Remo said.
Wylings straightened in his seat. “I will not suffer the insults of any man, no matter what skills he possesses. Leave me be.”
The small, old Korean spoke for the first time, and in Wylings’s sight he transformed from being a bent, frail old man to be someone dignified, noble and powerful. “You shall see your tongue taken from your own mouth before you die, usurper,” the old Master said with barely contained fury. “You shall witness your own lifeblood streaming from your body.”
Wylings was filled with fear such as he had never known—but he sensed something amiss in the elder Master. The old Korean was holding back, and it was difficult for him. Wylings knew he had these Masters of Sinanju just where he wanted them—just where he had everyone else.
‘You won’t harm me. I hold the key to four weapons primed to infect this city. They will strike this city down when I command—or automatically, if I fail to transmit the proper codes on schedule.”
“We heard. What some guys won’t do to get women,” Remo said.
“He shall never have the queen and he shall never have England,” Chiun spit. “You will tell us the place where these weapons are hidden, and then we will grant you the mercy of death.”
Wylings sniffed haughtily. “Who’d have thought? The legendary Master of Sinanju is just an old fool.”
Chiun moved, though Wylings never saw him move. Even Remo almost missed it. Chiun snatched Wylings’s hands in his own and lifted them above his head and squeezed the ball of each thumb.
