thedestroyer.slavesafari-第5部分

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o　do　his　exercises　alone。　Deprived　of　his　daytime　TV　shows；　Chiun　had　to　supervise　the　basics　and　Remo　could　do　nothing　right。
　Sitting　by　Lake　Patusick　in　the　Massachusetts　Berkshires　where　they　rented　a　cottage　for　the　spring；　Remo　heard　Chiun　tell　him　he　breathed　like　a　wrestler。　During　the　water　movements；　Chiun　screamed　that　Remo　moved　like　a　duck；　and　when　Remo　was　doing　the　stomach　flips…an　exercise　in　which　Remo　lay　flat　on　his　stomach　and　then　used　his　abdominal　muscles　to　flip　himself　over　onto　his　back…Chiun　said　Remo　moved　like　a　baby。　〃You　should　have　a　nurse；　not　the　Master　of　Sinanju。　That　was　slow　and　clumsy。〃
　Remo　assumed　the　position　again；　the　spring　grass　near　the　cool　Berkshire　lake　tickling　his　cheeks；　the　smell　of　the　fresh　muddy　rebirth　of　life　in　his　nostrils；　the　morning　sun　on　his　bare　back；　illuminating　but　not　warming。　He　waited　for　Chiun's　click　of　fingers　to　signal　the　flip。　It　was　a　simple　exercise；　trained　into　his　reflexes　more　than　a　decade　before；　as　he　began　the　training　that　changed　a　man　the　public　thought　had　been　electrocuted　into　the　killer　arm　of　a　secret　organization　that　was　designed　to　fight　crime。
　Remo　waited　for　the　snap　of　the　fingers　but　it　did　not　e。　Chiun　was　having　him　wait。　Better　to　wait；　he　thought；　than　have　to　find　a　place　to　put　the　body　of　the　man　who　was　responsible　for　taking　As　the　Planet　Revolves　off　the　air。　He　felt　a　slight　pressure　on　his　back；　probably　a　leaf　failing。
　He　heard　the　snap　of　Chiun's　fingers　and　his　stomach　muscles　slapped　the　ground　like　springs　released　from　restraint；　but　his　body　did　not　spin　around　as　Remo　expected。　The　instant　pressure　of　two　feet　on　his　back　sent　his　body　flat　down　in　the　wet　spring　mud。　Remo　spit　the　mud　out　of　his　mouth。　It　was　not　a　leaf　he　had　felt　fall　on　his　back；　but　the　Master　of　Sinanju　alighting；　weightlessly　on　him。　Remo　heard　the　chuckles　above　him。
　〃Do　you　need　help；　little　baby？〃
　To　the　untrained　eye；　it　would　appear　that　a　thirtish　man　of　moderate　build　with　extra　thick　wrists　and　dark　hair　had　attempted　a　pushup　and　failed　because　an　old　Oriental　was　standing　on　his　back。　Actually；　the　force　expended　by　both　men　could　shatter　slate。
　This　simple　little　accident　was　viewed　by　three　men　who　had　walked　around　from　the　front　of　the　cottage　and　now　stood　watching　the　pair…the　young　white　man　face　in　mud；　the　aged　Oriental　giggling。
　The　three　men　wore　dark　business　suits。　The　shortest　carried　a　briefcase；　the　others　。25　caliber　Berettas　that　they　believed　were　hidden　under　their　jackets。
　〃I'm　looking　for　a　Remo　Mueller；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。　Remo　lifted　his　head　from　the　mud　and　felt　Chiun　alight　from　his　back。　He　wanted　to　send　a　razor　sharp　hand　into　the　old　man's　giggling　face；　but　he　knew　the　cutting　edge　of　the　hand　would　be　jelly　before　it　ever　touched　the　face。　Perhaps　in　ten　years；　his　mind　and　body　would　equal　Chiun's　and　then　maybe　Chiun　would　not　use　Remo　as　a　punching　bag　for　his　frustrations。
　Remo　saw　by　the　way　the　two　taller　men　stood　that　they　were　carrying　weapons。　There　is　a　reaction　of　the　body　to　a　weapon　it　carries；　a　certain　heaviness　of　the　body　around　the　weapon。　The　two　men　stood　with　heaviness。
　〃Remo　Mueller？〃　asked　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Yes。　That's　me；〃　said　Remo；　spitting　out　mud。　He　had　been　given　the　name　Mueller　several　weeks　before。　This　was　the　first　time　he'd　heard　anyone　use　it；　and　he　wondered　if　it　should　be　pronounced　Muell…er　as　in　fuel；　or　Muell…er　as　in　full。　This　man　pronounced　it　as　in　full。
　〃The　name's　pronounced　Mueller。。。　as　in　fuel；〃　Remo　said；　deciding　that　Chiun　had　no　corner　on　perversity　this　day。
　〃I'd　like　to　talk　to　you　about　a　magazine　article　you　wrote　for　the　National　Forum　of　Human　Relations。〃
　Magazine　article。　Magazine　article；　thought　Remo。　Sometimes　upstairs　planted　an　article　under　his　byline　when　they　wanted　to　give　him　a　cover　as　a　magazine　reporter；　but　he　did　not　remember　being　informed　of　any　article　by　upstairs　recently。　He　had　been　told　to　rest。
　Remo　stared　blankly　at　the　man。　What　could　he　say？　〃Let　me　see；　the　article　I　was　supposed　to　have　written。〃　Upstairs　moved　in　peculiar　ways；　right　from　the　first　day　when　former　Newark　policeman　Remo　Williams　discovered　that　upstairs　had　been　responsible　for　the　frameup　that　put　him　in　the　electric　chair；　and　equally　responsible　for　getting　him　out　alive；　the　man　who　did　not　exist　for　the　agency　which　did　not　exist
　The　explanation　was　simple；　as　most　of　upstairs'　explanations　were。　The　Constitution　no　longer　worked；　the　country　could　no　longer　withstand　the　onslaught　of　crime。　The　answer　was　an　organization　that　functioned　outside　the　Constitution；　doing　whatever　it　had　to　do　to　equalize　the　odds。
　〃And　I'm　the　guy　who's　going　to　do　the　dirty　work？〃　Remo　had　asked。
　〃You're　elected；〃　he　was　told。　Thus　began　a　decade　of　training　under　Chiun；　the　Master　of　Sinanju；　a　decade　in　which　Remo　had　lost　count　of　the　number　of　people　he　had　killed；　just　remembered　the　moves。
　〃Would　you　care　to　talk　inside？〃　Remo　asked　the　three　men。
　The　gentlemen　said　they　would　be　happy　to　do　so。
　〃Ask　them　if　they　know　the　vile　pollsters　of　Washington；〃　said　Chiun。
　〃I　think　this　is　business；〃　said　Remo；　hoping　that　Chiun　would　choose　to　get　lost。　Only　three　men　knew　that　the　secret　crime…fighting　organization　called　CURE　existed；　and　Chiun　was　not　one　of　them。　But　as　the　Master　of　Sinanju；　there　was　only　one　thing　he　needed　to　know　of　an　employer。　Did　he　pay　on　time　and　did　his　payments　reach　Sinanju；　the　little　Korean　village　that　Chiun　and　his　ancestors　had　supported　through　the　centuries　by　renting　out　their　deadly　assassin's　skills？　This　question　being　answered　affirmatively；　Chiun　would　not　have　cared　if　his　employer　were　the　Girl　Scouts　of　America。
　〃Business；　business；　business；〃　said　Chiun。　〃You　are　a　nation　of　businessmen。〃
　〃Your　servant？〃　asked　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Not　exactly；〃　said　Remo。
　〃Do　you　men　know　the　vile　pollsters　of　Washington？〃　asked　Chiun。
　〃We　might；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃Chiun；　I　think　this　is　work。　Please；〃　said　Remo。
　〃We　can　be　of　help　in　many　ways；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。
　〃He　doesn't　need　your　help。　Inside　if　you　please；〃　said　Remo；　but　Chiun；　hearing　that　there　might　be　some　way　of　restoring　his　daytime　soap　operas　to　the　screen；　followed　the　gathering　into　the　cottage。　He　sat　cross…legged　on　the　floor　watching　the　men　on　couches　and　chairs。
　〃This　is　confidential；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。　He　had　the　quiet　authority　of　one　backed　by　much　wealth。
　〃Ignore　him；〃　Remo　said　of　Chiun。
　〃Your　magazine　article　proved　of　great　interest　to　my　employer。　I　saw　your　surprise　when　I　mentioned　it。　I　can　understand　your　wondering　how　we　saw　the　article　when　it　won't　even　be　published　until　next　week。〃
　Remo　nodded　as　if　he　knew　what　the　article　was　about
　〃I　have　a　question　for　you；〃　the　man　said。　〃Just　what　are　your　contacts　with　Busati？〃
　〃I'm　afraid　that　all　my　sources　are　confidential；〃　said　Remo　who　did　not　know　who　or　what　or　where　a　Busati　was。
　〃I　admire　your　integrity。　Mr。　Mueller；　let　me　be　frank。　We　might　want　you　for　something。〃
　〃Like　what？〃　asked　Remo；　noticing　the　edge　of　a　manuscript　poke　from　the　man's　briefcase。
　〃We'd　like　to　hire　you　as　a　consultant　for　our　offices　in　Busati。〃
　〃Is　that　my　story　you　have　in　there？〃　Remo　said。
　〃Yes。　I　wanted　to　discuss　it　with　you。〃
　Remo　reached　out　a　hand　for　the　manuscript。　〃Just　want　to　review　it　myself；〃　he　said。
　Even　under　an　assumed　name；　Remo　felt　embarrassed　by　the　story。　Busati；　he　quickly　surmised；　was　a　country。　According　to　what　he　was　supposed　to　have　written；　Busati　was　forging　new　forms　of　socialism　after　throwing　off　colonialist　chains；　under　the　guidance　of　President　General　Dada　〃Big　Daddy〃　Obode。　Any　report　of　tribal　friction　was　an　invention　of　the　neo…colonialistic　fascist　imperialistic　powers　who　feared　the　enlightened　progressive　leadership　of　the　Saviour　of　Busati；　General　Obode；　who　brought　electricity　to　the　villages；　ended　crime　in　the　capital　and　had　made　the　first　major　inroads　against　poverty　in　Busati　since　the　white　man　had　first　enslaved　the　little　nation。　Why　this　capitalist　fear　of　Obode？　Because　his　brilliance　threatened　to　undermine　the　substructure　of　racist　oppressive　Western　government　and　all　Western　nations　quaked　before　the　glory　of　his　brilliance。
　The　article　was　called　〃An　Unbiased　View　of　Busati。〃　Remo　returned　the　manuscript
　〃You're　rather　an　interesting　fellow；　Mr。　Mueller；〃　the　man　said。　〃We　looked　into　your　background　and；　frankly；　we　found　nothing　at　all。　Not　a　thing。　Not　even　fingerprints。　Now　a　traveler　of　your　stature　should　have　prints　in　someone's　file。　Do　you　mind　telling　us　why　not。〃
　〃Yes；〃　said　Remo。　He　turned　to　Chiun。　〃What's　for　dinner？〃
　〃I　have　not　decided；〃　said　Chiun。
　〃Of　course；　your　background　is　your　business；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase。　〃We　just　wish　to　employ　you　at　great　profit　to　yourself。　Very　great。〃
　〃Duck　would　be　good；〃　said　Remo；　〃if　you　cooked　it　right。〃
　〃We　had　duck　last　night；〃　said　Chiun。
　〃I'm　here　to　make　you　an　offer　you　can't　refuse；〃　said　the　man　with　the　briefcase；　smiling　a　wide　row　of　ver