Warren Murphy Destroyer 101 B

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furiously developed some hitherto unknown technology with significant military
applications.
The phone rang. He picked it up, one eye scanning a report out of India noting
a weapon called Shiva-Urga. It was said to mean an incarnation of the Hindu
deity Shiva in his most destructive form.
"Yeah?" he said absently.
"Chattaway. NRO. I could use some help, linguistically speaking."
"Are we NOIWONing here?"
"We will as soon as I nail down a few facts."
"What language?" Foxworthy asked.
"Korean."
"What do you need to know?" Foxworthy asked warily.
"The North Koreans have code-named their secret weapon Sinanju Chongal. I need
to know what that means."
"What'll you trade for it?"
"This is national security!"
"And this is my ass if I don't have something to give the Pentagon same as
you."
"Okay, how about we say you came up with the original report, brought it to
me, I went back to you on linguistics and we keep the DIA out of the picture
entirely?"
"Sounds good to me. Sinanju, you said?"
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"Spelled S-i-n-a-n-j-u. We already know 'Chongal' means 'scorpion.' "
"Back to you soonest." Foxworthy disconnected and stabbed an inside-line
button.
A dry voice said, "Linguistics."
"Foxworthy. Korean."
An Asian voice came on. "Go ahead."
"Sinanju. What does it mean?"
"Exact pronunciation, please."
"The way I told it to you is the way I have it," Foxworthy snapped.
"Well, depending on how the syllables break, it might mean New Hors
d'Oeuvres."
"Hors d'ouevres! As in canapes?"
"That's the closest English equivalent."
"Hors d'ouevres isn't English."
"The exact translation of 'anju' is 'something tasty to have with drinks.
'Sin' can mean 'new.' Now, if we assume it's not 'anju' as in hors d'ouevres,'
but two separate words, then 'ju' means 'far.'"
"And you said 'sin' means 'new.'"
"Right."
"So we get New-blank-Far. What's does 'an' mean?"
"That's a long list, starting with a common Korean last name. Without knowing
the exact pronunciation, this is as far as I'm willing to take this linguistic
analysis."
"That'll do. No sense getting too deep in."
Hanging up, Foxworthy got back to Chattaway at the NRO. "There's some
muddiness here, but 'sin' means 'new' and 'ju' is for 'far,' so we have
New-something-Far Scorpion."
"Hmm. This is not good. New-something-Far Scorpion. Sounds long-range."
"Definitely long-range."
"Well, I guess we're on the NOIWON now."
The other intelligence agencies came on the line, and no one had anything to
offer to the analysis as the NRO laid it out.
The JCS chair came on the line and said, "Thank you, gentlemen. This is all I
need to know."
And everyone wondered what the JCS chair was going to do about the new North
Korean threat that made the atomic bomb seem as dangerous as a runaway cheese
wheel.
Chapter Thirty-five
Over a city whose airport control tower welcomed them to the true Macedonia,
the Master of Sinanju looked down at a shining river and said, "They lie."
"What river is that?" Remo asked.
"The Ishm."
"So where are we?"
"Over Illyria."
Remo consulted a map on his lap. "I don't see any Illyria."
"Country names are transitory. Find the Ishm."
"Right. Oh, here it is. We're over Tiran�. Capital of Albania. I'd better go
talk to the pilot."
When Remo came back from the cockpit, he told the Master of Sinanju, "The
tower offered him a pile of gold to land us here."
"He has been properly chastised?"
"The copilot can handle things while the pilot's fingers are out of
commission."
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Finally at the Skopje airport, Remo stepped out first. From the air Skopje
looked like Athens. But Chiun had pronounced the river to be the true Vardar.
There was an honor guard, but the uniforms were a different shade of green,
though just as bold. A trumpet and drum fanfare began.
When Remo appeared, the artillery salute commenced and a red carpet unrolled
like a frog's tongue seeking a fly. When the gold-fringed end reached the
bottom of the air stairs, it exposed the sixteen-point golden Sun of Vergina
that Remo remembered from the official stationery of the Macedonian
government.
Remo called back into the cabin. "We're here!"
Only then did Chiun stride majestically out, his chin up, his hazel eyes
agleam.
He took a deep breath that puffed out his chest.
"Yes, this is Macedonia."
"How do you know?"
"The air smells of the Vardar. It smells correct."
"I'll take your word for it," said Remo, who smelled goat cheese and grape
leaves and other odors he associated with Greece.
An erect man in a plain business suit wearing a red tie with the Sun of
Vergina on it came striding up to meet the Master of Sinanju. His thick
silvery gray hair lay close to his skull, as if a flatiron had tamed it.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Chiun eyed him haughtily.
"I am who summoned you," the erect man said.
"No one summons the Master of Sinanju, lackey. Where is the king of
Macedonia?"
"King?"
"Yes. I will treat with him and no other."
"But I am he."
"Where are your robes, your crown, your scepter of gold?"
"This is the twentieth century. We have no more of these things. I am the
president."
Chiun's face collapsed.
"Democracy," he spit. "If Sinanju is to serve your land, you must appoint a
proper king."
"That is all it will take?"
"That and gold."
"We have gold. Some. Yes, if the House requires a king, then I shall be your
king."
Then and only then did the Master of Sinanju bow his respects to the ruler of
Macedonia.
On the way to the black limousine sporting decals of the Sun of Vergina on the
hood, trunk, door panels and hubcaps, the ruler of Macedonia regarded Remo
warily and asked, "Are you Greek?"
"No."
"Good," said the ruler of Macedonia.
"He is my apprentice," said Chiun.
"A Westerner? Does he have Macedonian blood in him?"
"Definitely not," said Remo.
"Possibly," said Chiun. "He is unfortunately a mutt. There is no telling what
ichor befouls the purity of his Sinanju-blessed veins."
"I resent that," Remo declared.
"Better a mutt than a cur," said the ruler of Macedonia as the limo door was
opened for him.
He graciously allowed the Master of Sinanju to enter first. Then he stepped
in, closing the door on Remo's hurt face.
Remo took a step back and kicked the rear tire flat. The limousine settled,
and amid a flurry of retinue and aides, a backup limo pulled up, looking less
like the Batmobile than the first.
This time Remo was allowed to climb in first. Next to the chauffeur.
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At the presidential palace the ruler of Macedonia excused himself while Remo
and Chiun were seated on plush floor pillows and serenaded with lyre and
zither music. Songs were sung. All in praise of Aleksandar Veliki Alexander
The Great.
Chiun sat serenely through it all. Remo yawned a lot. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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