[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"My mother said my name isn't Williams. And what makes you think my father is
famous?"
"All who sire Masters of Sinanju are famous. Why should you be any
different?"
"Look, let's change the subject, shall we?" Remo suggested.
"Tennessee Williams is another famous Williams."
"Tennessee Wiliams is dead."
"But his greatness lives on in you."
"Cut it out. I'm sick of you ragging on me all the time."
Chiun's voice suddenly grew serious. "Tell me, Remo, why is finding your
father so important now? It was not like this when we first met so long ago."
Remo looked out at the passing clouds. "I thought I had put it all behind me
after I left the orphanage," he said quietly. "Until that time in Detroit when
that hit man popped up using my name."
Page 110
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"A name which he pilfered from the gravestone where you are not buried."
"We know that now. But at first I thought he was my father. For a while there
I liked the idea of having a father. Ever since then, I can't get the idea out
of my mind."
Chiun said nothing.
"Mind telling me where we are going?" Remo asked suddenly.
"You are going to Hades."
Remo's brow clouded. "Hades is the Roman Hell, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Then why do our tickets say were going to Bangor, Maine?"
"Because that is where Emperor Smith assures me Cerberus dwells." And Chiun
left his seat to inspect the galley.
"Cerberus?" Remo muttered. His mind went back to his childhood, and once again
he could hear the voice of Sister Mary Margaret as if it were yesterday:
Cerberus was the three-headed dog who guarded the gates to the underworld, who
barred Hercules's path when he descended into the lower regions to complete
one of his final labors.
Remo folded his arms defiantly. "Great. I'm getting near the end."
The seat-belt sign winked off, and the stewardess came up the aisle. Remo
noticed that she was wearing no shoes. When she stopped at his seat and leaned
down to whisper in his ears, he understood why.
"Go suck your own toes," he told her.
When the Master of Sinanju returned from his inspection of the galley
facilities, Remo told him, "The stewardess invited me to suck her toes."
"Before Rome fell, its women insisted upon being on top."
"There's nothing wrong with being on top."
"If these unwholesome ideas take root, the House will have to look to Persia
in the next century for its gold. Do you still possess the coins?"
"Sure."
"Let me see them."
Remo produced the coins, one from each pocket so they wouldn't jingle and give
him away.
"What do they tell you, Remo?" asked Chiun.
"Spend it while the currency is still good?"
"You are hopeless."
Remo grinned. "But still on top."
Over a mountainous section of the country, Remo happened to look down and saw
in life something he had seen many times in books and magazines.
"That looks like Meteor Crater," he said to Chiun. The Master of Sinanju
looked out, sniffed and said, "I see a great hole surrounded by desolation."
Remo pulled from his wallet a square of paper that had been folded many times.
It was sealed in plastic with Scotch tape. He undid the tape and unfolded the
paper.
The black grease-pencil sketch featured a sad-eyed young woman with long dark
hair, framing a handsome oval face. A police sketch artist had made it, based
on Remo's description after his mother's spirit had appeared to him the first
time months before. Ever since, Remo had carried it everywhere he went.
"She said my father sometimes lived among the stars and sometimes where the
great star fell," Remo said softly.
"I see a hole in the ground. No star."
Remo hit the overhead stewardess-call button. Every stewardess on the plane
was suddenly beside him, straightening hair and uniform skirts and moistening
lipsticked mouths.
"What state are we over?" he asked the assembled stewardess crew.
"Suck my toes till they're wrinkled, and I'll tell you," offered one.
That particular stewardess was pushed to the rear and all but sat upon by the
others.
"Arizona," the rest chorused helpfully.
"Thank you," said Remo, dismissing the flight crew. When they refused to
dismiss, he carefully folded the drawing and replaced it in his wallet, taking
Page 111
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
