"Destroyer - 019 - Holy Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Warren)

CHAPTER THREE


"So that's what you were doing in the river bed," said Smith when he heard about the plate incident. "Maybe we should get off the road. They might have the motel staked out. You might be spotted."

"We might also be tailed," said Remo.

"Anything is possible in a racist country," said Chiun, "where nude people invade your privacy."

Behind the gray Chevrolet Nova, a cream and beige Ford with a red bubble light on top and heavy black lettering just above the grill that read "Sheriff" cruised behind them. When Remo turned to look, the sheriff's car whined its siren and picked up speed.

"That may be the sheriff who is working for the Blissful Master," said Smith.

"Good," said Remo.

"Good? My Lord, they've got me with you. You know evasive techniques. I don't. Great. That's all I need, to be arrested in New Mexico."

"You like to worry, don't you, Smitty?" said Remo. "Just give me the outlines of the assignment and stop worrying."

"Find out what that Indian faker is doing with Americans. Find out what this 'big thing' is, and stop it if it's dangerous."

"Why didn't you say that before?" said Remo, "Instead of committing us to a trip to Patna, and all this submarine and side excursion to Sinanju bilge?"

"Because our emperor in his wisdom," said Chiun, "has blessed us with his brilliance. If we are ordered to Sinanju, then to Sinanju we will go."

"There'll be a sub, the Harlequin, at the naval base in San Diego. The captain will think you're from the State Department on a secret mission. He'll assume it's a quiet overture to establish relations with a North Korean faction for eventual diplomatic recognition."

"I still don't understand why we're hitting Sinanju," said Remo. "Other than it being closer to India than to Kansas City, why do we have to make the visit?"

The sheriff's car pulled alongside and a craggy-faced man under a light brown Stetson motioned the car to pull over. He motioned convincingly with a .44, whose barrel looked like a tunnel.

"Don't be shy, Remo. Chiun already warned me that you were thinking of dropping out to visit Sinanju yourself, the home of your training. And you're just valuable enough that we didn't want to lose you. So when this thing came up in India, I thought we could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

Remo glanced balefully at the back seat, where Chiun, his parched, delicate face set serenely, was a vision of calm innocence. Smith slowed the car.

"Get me out of this thing," he said as the sheriff's car nosed in ahead of them.

"Anyone who'd believe that I would quit you to visit a fishing village in North Korea, a village that has such lousy fishermen it has to rent out assassins to stay alive, anyone who'd believe that could use help crossing a street."

"I can't be arrested," said Smith.

"If this is our sheriff, he's a gift," said Remo.

"That," said Smith, squinting at the man with Stetson, badge, and gun, stepping from the car, "is our man. Probably, I think."

"All right, you there. Out of the car slow, and let's see your hands at all times. Out," said the sheriff.

"You want to see my hands?" said Remo, putting them in front of Smith on the steering wheel and then sliding past Smith with his legs following through the window and out, a one-hand grip on the door post, and the feet touched the ground.