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Whoever was inside refused to buzz them in.
"Guess we do this the hard way. Wanna split up or go in together?"
"We will go in together, for what danger would a house of such ill repute have
for two fish-eating Masters of Sinanju such as we?"
"Good point," said Remo, stepping back to lift one Italian loafer. The fine
leather gleamed under the lurid light for a moment. Remo kicked once, hard.
The door was painted steel, but it caved in as if it were tin. The panel bent
in the middle from the kick, but actually gave at the hinges.
Remo jumped in and caught the thick slab of steel before it hit the floor.
Pivoting, he directed the downward impetus to one side and set the door in one
corner. He gave it a spin. It twirled in place like a square top, wobbled then
gyrated as if possessing a waking mind, and leaned itself obediently against
one wall, making no more sound than a basket settling.
"Pretty slick, huh?"
"Hush," said Chiun, lifting a quelling hand.
Remo listened. Under his feet he sensed a vibration. It was familiar. Vaguely
electric, but not electric in the man-made sense. It was the electricity of
something living.
He looked down. Chiun was regarding the floor at their feet.
It was black. Not ebony black or obsidian black, but a shiny black that was
like a mirror. The floor looked as if it were possible to see through it.
Their eyes narrowed.
"I never saw a floor like this," Remo muttered.
"Nor I," said Chiun.
"It's like I should be able to see through it, but I can't somehow."
"It is black. One cannot look through something that is so black."
"So why do I think I can?" Remo pressed.
"I do not know, but I feel the same way as you, Remo."
From under their feet a sudden sound came unbidden. A gurgle, followed by a
noisy splash. Other smaller splashes sounded.
"Sounds like a sewer pipe down there," Remo said.
"If that is so," said Chiun, "in the sewer dwell living things."
"Not our problem. Let's go where this takes us."
They advanced in the dim back-glow of the red entrance light.
The walls were marble, but broken by a mirrored section. The mirror shone of
quicksilver.
And on either side two shadowy statues stood sentinel.
Chiun's quick intake of breath made Remo freeze in place. "What is it?" he
hissed.
"Behold."
"Behold what?" said Remo, peering behind the statues for hiding enemies.
"The figures on either side of the door, Remo."
"I see them. Statues. So what?"
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"How many arms does the statue on the right possess, my son?"
Remo's eyes dispelled the clotting shadows. "Four."
"And the statue on the left?"
"Four."
"They are no mere statues, but Shiva and Kali, the Red One and the Black
One."
"Big deal. Two statues."
"Remo, why are they here in pagan Canada?"
"Decoration." And Remo advanced.
With a flutter of silken skirts, Chiun got in his way. Two hands came up and
pressed themselves into Remo's chest. The Master of Sinanju's hazel eyes were
pleading. "I do not like this. Why would such Eastern gods guard this Western
place?"
"They look pretty naked. Maybe this is a cathouse."
"Remo, you may remain here. I will go in. Do not follow."
"Cut it out, Chiun."
"What if she is here?"
"She who?"
"Do not trifle with me, Remo Williams."
Remo sighed. His mind went back to other times.
He couldn't recall the year, but it had started with a statue of the Hindu
goddess Kali, patron demon of the cult of Thugee, who strangled travelers for
their money. When airline passengers started popping up throttled by yellow
silk scarves, Harold Smith had sent Chiun and Remo to look into it. They found
more than they'd bargained for. The modernday Thugs were controlled by an
ancient statue that held the power to exert an evil influence upon its
followers and upon Remo, who was, according to Sinanju legend, the dead white
tiger destined to be the avatar of Shiva on Earth.
Remo had shattered the statue supposed to be the vessel of Kali's evil spirit,
but the spirit later returned in another form. This time as a four-armed call
girl who had lured Remo into the cauldron that had been the Gulf War. He was
alone then. Chiun hadn't been there to guide him. Somehow, using yellow silk
strangling scarves as a symbol of the U.S. hostages in the Middle East, Kali
had ignited the Gulf War.
Something terrible had happened to Remo then. He had no memory of it. Later
Chiun claimed Kali had broken Remo's neck and caused Shiva to possess his body
to keep it animated. Somehow Chiun had defeated Kali, cast out Shiva and
reclaimed Remo as his son in Sinanju. All Remo remembered was waking up with a
weird bump the size of a pigeon egg in the middle of his forehead that had to
be surgically removed. Chiun claimed it was Shiva's third eye. Remo called it
the goose egg that wouldn't go away.
Remo shook off the disturbing memories. "Look," he told Chiun. "That statue
was wrecked. If Kali's spirit were anywhere around here, I'd smell that sex [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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