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"Hey, that's not what I promised him!"
"That is why I am making certain this cretin troubles us no more with his
idiocies."
When the Master of Sinanju was through, he stood up and said, "What about
her?"
"Might as well break the happy news." Remo knelt down, lifted her head off the
ground and massaged the back of Dominique's neck.
Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself being held off the ground by a
strong hand at the back of her neck. She was looking into Remo's dark brown
eyes.
"Good news. We didn't get frapped. "
"Non?"
"Jerry Lewis saved us."
"Jairy? Jairy is here! Where?"
"But he's gone back to America. He promised never to darken your shore again
if France didn't patch things up with the U.S.A."
"EUD," Dominique corrected.
"It's my country. I'll call it whatever I want."
"And you are in my country and should observe our cultural prerequisites."
Remo released her head. It went bonk! on the asphalt of the road. Dominique
sat up holding her skull.
"We are going now," said Chiun. "You will remind your masters of my warning.
Sinanju stands by the throne of America. Let there be no further trouble
between your emperor and mine."
Dominique picked herself up off the road. "I will do zis for Jerry. But only
for Jerry."
"Just as long as you do it right," said Remo, looking around for a car to
borrow.
He spotted the Pare Euro Beasley RER train stop.
"You know, Little Father. I'll bet we can get to London by train faster than
it would take us to book Air France out of here."
"I have always enjoyed trains. Did I ever tell you about my first train ride?
It was before you were born, of course."
"Tell me about it on the train," said Remo.
And barefoot, they started off.
Chapter 32
Two days later Remo answered the ringing telephone in his Massachusetts
condo.
"Remo, Smith."
Remo glanced over to the Master of Sinanju, who sat on a reed mat in the far
corner of the tower meditation room, writing on a parchment scroll held flat
on the floor with jade beads at each corner. "What's the latest?" he asked.
"The President of the US. and his French counterpart have agreed to a summit
to discuss outstanding Franco-American issues."
"I didn't know there were any left."
"There is tentative agreement that French will be more widely taught in US.
secondary schools and universities."
"That's an awfully big concession. Think of all those poor kids repeating
French I over and over again."
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"In return, France has lifted all restrictions on English-speaking visitors to
their country. Provided Euro Beasley is defanged and renamed Beasleyland
Paris."
"Sounds like our side caved in-again."
"That is not important. All that matters is that the crisis is over, and with
Uncle Sam Beasley dead, we can only hope the Beasley Corporation goes back to
being nothing more than an entertainment industry."
"Any news from that quarter?"
"There are rumors of an internal shake-up. CEO Mickey Weisinger has been
demoted, and Beasley nephew Bob has assumed operational control in actuality,
if not title."
"Just so long as Sam Beasley remains dead."
There was a long pause on the line.
"You have no ill feelings over having liquidated him?"
"I didn't do it. Chiun decapitated him."
From across the room, a squeaky voice called out, "You broke his heart.
Therefore, you dispatched the beloved Uncle Sam."
"He wasn't dead when you lopped off his head, so you killed him."
Chiun's head snapped around, his hazel eyes hot. "That is slander!"
"It's the truth, and you know it."
Chiun shook his goose-feather quill in the air, spattering the walls with
black droplets of ink. "The truth is what is written in the true histories of
the House of Sinanju, not what actually happened."
"You'd better not be hanging Beasley's death on me in your freaking scrolls,"
Remo warned.
"I am the victor. The victor writes the histories. Therefore, I will write as
I wish."
"Yeah? Well, I'm thinking of starting my own set of scrolls."
"It does not matter what you write," Chiun sniffed.
"We'll see about that."
"Because you will write junk in junk American," cackled the Master of Sinanju.
"And no descendant of yours or mine will be able to read such drivel."
"Why not?"
"Because in only a mere two or three thousand more years, yours will be a dead
language."
"Did you hear that, Smith?" Remo called into the telephone.
But Harold W Smith had already hung up.
So Remo hung up and walked over to the Master of Sinanju, determined that
history tell his side of the story.
EPILOGUE
History recorded that the Franco-American Conflict of 1995 lasted but three
days and both began and ended with the bombing by French warplanes of Euro
Beasley.
The combatants, as combatants always did, patched up their differences at the
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