o do his exercises alone。 Deprived of his daytime TV shows； Chiun had to supervise the basics and Remo could do nothing right。
Sitting by Lake Patusick in the Massachusetts Berkshires where they rented a cottage for the spring； Remo heard Chiun tell him he breathed like a wrestler。 During the water movements； Chiun screamed that Remo moved like a duck； and when Remo was doing the stomach flips…an exercise in which Remo lay flat on his stomach and then used his abdominal muscles to flip himself over onto his back…Chiun said Remo moved like a baby。 〃You should have a nurse； not the Master of Sinanju。 That was slow and clumsy。〃
Remo assumed the position again； the spring grass near the cool Berkshire lake tickling his cheeks； the smell of the fresh muddy rebirth of life in his nostrils； the morning sun on his bare back； illuminating but not warming。 He waited for Chiun's click of fingers to signal the flip。 It was a simple exercise； trained into his reflexes more than a decade before； as he began the training that changed a man the public thought had been electrocuted into the killer arm of a secret organization that was designed to fight crime。
Remo waited for the snap of the fingers but it did not e。 Chiun was having him wait。 Better to wait； he thought； than have to find a place to put the body of the man who was responsible for taking As the Planet Revolves off the air。 He felt a slight pressure on his back； probably a leaf failing。
He heard the snap of Chiun's fingers and his stomach muscles slapped the ground like springs released from restraint； but his body did not spin around as Remo expected。 The instant pressure of two feet on his back sent his body flat down in the wet spring mud。 Remo spit the mud out of his mouth。 It was not a leaf he had felt fall on his back； but the Master of Sinanju alighting； weightlessly on him。 Remo heard the chuckles above him。
〃Do you need help； little baby？〃
To the untrained eye； it would appear that a thirtish man of moderate build with extra thick wrists and dark hair had attempted a pushup and failed because an old Oriental was standing on his back。 Actually； the force expended by both men could shatter slate。
This simple little accident was viewed by three men who had walked around from the front of the cottage and now stood watching the pair…the young white man face in mud； the aged Oriental giggling。
The three men wore dark business suits。 The shortest carried a briefcase； the others 。25 caliber Berettas that they believed were hidden under their jackets。
〃I'm looking for a Remo Mueller；〃 said the man with the briefcase。 Remo lifted his head from the mud and felt Chiun alight from his back。 He wanted to send a razor sharp hand into the old man's giggling face； but he knew the cutting edge of the hand would be jelly before it ever touched the face。 Perhaps in ten years； his mind and body would equal Chiun's and then maybe Chiun would not use Remo as a punching bag for his frustrations。
Remo saw by the way the two taller men stood that they were carrying weapons。 There is a reaction of the body to a weapon it carries； a certain heaviness of the body around the weapon。 The two men stood with heaviness。
〃Remo Mueller？〃 asked the man with the briefcase。
〃Yes。 That's me；〃 said Remo； spitting out mud。 He had been given the name Mueller several weeks before。 This was the first time he'd heard anyone use it； and he wondered if it should be pronounced Muell…er as in fuel； or Muell…er as in full。 This man pronounced it as in full。
〃The name's pronounced Mueller。。。 as in fuel；〃 Remo said； deciding that Chiun had no corner on perversity this day。
〃I'd like to talk to you about a magazine article you wrote for the National Forum of Human Relations。〃
Magazine article。 Magazine article； thought Remo。 Sometimes upstairs planted an article under his byline when they wanted to give him a cover as a magazine reporter； but he did not remember being informed of any article by upstairs recently。 He had been told to rest。
Remo stared blankly at the man。 What could he say？ 〃Let me see； the article I was supposed to have written。〃 Upstairs moved in peculiar ways； right from the first day when former Newark policeman Remo Williams discovered that upstairs had been responsible for the frameup that put him in the electric chair； and equally responsible for getting him out alive； the man who did not exist for the agency which did not exist
The explanation was simple； as most of upstairs' explanations were。 The Constitution no longer worked； the country could no longer withstand the onslaught of crime。 The answer was an organization that functioned outside the Constitution； doing whatever it had to do to equalize the odds。
〃And I'm the guy who's going to do the dirty work？〃 Remo had asked。
〃You're elected；〃 he was told。 Thus began a decade of training under Chiun； the Master of Sinanju； a decade in which Remo had lost count of the number of people he had killed； just remembered the moves。
〃Would you care to talk inside？〃 Remo asked the three men。
The gentlemen said they would be happy to do so。
〃Ask them if they know the vile pollsters of Washington；〃 said Chiun。
〃I think this is business；〃 said Remo； hoping that Chiun would choose to get lost。 Only three men knew that the secret crime…fighting organization called CURE existed； and Chiun was not one of them。 But as the Master of Sinanju； there was only one thing he needed to know of an employer。 Did he pay on time and did his payments reach Sinanju； the little Korean village that Chiun and his ancestors had supported through the centuries by renting out their deadly assassin's skills？ This question being answered affirmatively； Chiun would not have cared if his employer were the Girl Scouts of America。
〃Business； business； business；〃 said Chiun。 〃You are a nation of businessmen。〃
〃Your servant？〃 asked the man with the briefcase。
〃Not exactly；〃 said Remo。
〃Do you men know the vile pollsters of Washington？〃 asked Chiun。
〃We might；〃 said the man with the briefcase。
〃Chiun； I think this is work。 Please；〃 said Remo。
〃We can be of help in many ways；〃 said the man with the briefcase。
〃He doesn't need your help。 Inside if you please；〃 said Remo； but Chiun； hearing that there might be some way of restoring his daytime soap operas to the screen； followed the gathering into the cottage。 He sat cross…legged on the floor watching the men on couches and chairs。
〃This is confidential；〃 said the man with the briefcase。 He had the quiet authority of one backed by much wealth。
〃Ignore him；〃 Remo said of Chiun。
〃Your magazine article proved of great interest to my employer。 I saw your surprise when I mentioned it。 I can understand your wondering how we saw the article when it won't even be published until next week。〃
Remo nodded as if he knew what the article was about
〃I have a question for you；〃 the man said。 〃Just what are your contacts with Busati？〃
〃I'm afraid that all my sources are confidential；〃 said Remo who did not know who or what or where a Busati was。
〃I admire your integrity。 Mr。 Mueller； let me be frank。 We might want you for something。〃
〃Like what？〃 asked Remo； noticing the edge of a manuscript poke from the man's briefcase。
〃We'd like to hire you as a consultant for our offices in Busati。〃
〃Is that my story you have in there？〃 Remo said。
〃Yes。 I wanted to discuss it with you。〃
Remo reached out a hand for the manuscript。 〃Just want to review it myself；〃 he said。
Even under an assumed name； Remo felt embarrassed by the story。 Busati； he quickly surmised； was a country。 According to what he was supposed to have written； Busati was forging new forms of socialism after throwing off colonialist chains； under the guidance of President General Dada 〃Big Daddy〃 Obode。 Any report of tribal friction was an invention of the neo…colonialistic fascist imperialistic powers who feared the enlightened progressive leadership of the Saviour of Busati； General Obode； who brought electricity to the villages； ended crime in the capital and had made the first major inroads against poverty in Busati since the white man had first enslaved the little nation。 Why this capitalist fear of Obode？ Because his brilliance threatened to undermine the substructure of racist oppressive Western government and all Western nations quaked before the glory of his brilliance。
The article was called 〃An Unbiased View of Busati。〃 Remo returned the manuscript
〃You're rather an interesting fellow； Mr。 Mueller；〃 the man said。 〃We looked into your background and； frankly； we found nothing at all。 Not a thing。 Not even fingerprints。 Now a traveler of your stature should have prints in someone's file。 Do you mind telling us why not。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Remo。 He turned to Chiun。 〃What's for dinner？〃
〃I have not decided；〃 said Chiun。
〃Of course； your background is your business；〃 said the man with the briefcase。 〃We just wish to employ you at great profit to yourself。 Very great。〃
〃Duck would be good；〃 said Remo； 〃if you cooked it right。〃
〃We had duck last night；〃 said Chiun。
〃I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse；〃 said the man with the briefcase； smiling a wide row of ver