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instead of the traditional red. Since he was waiting in line, Remo decided to
pass the time by asking why.
"You have been watching too much television, Yank," the Mountie said stiffly.
"I hardly watch any," Remo protested.
"Our red uniform is ceremonial."
"I liked the red better," said Remo, trying to be friendly.
"The red is strictly ceremonial."
"I heard you the first time."
"Please spread the word among your fellow Yanks. We are tired of answering
this particular question. Here is your passport."
"Thanks," said Remo. "And try Ex-Lax for your problem."
The Mountie shot Remo a withering look from under his big yellow Stetson hat,
and together Remo and Chiun went off to rent a car.
The rental clerk was more polite-by about three degrees centigrade.
"You must return the vehicle to this office and to no other office. If you
cannot return the vehicle to this office, your deposit is forfeit. And in
addition you may incur criminal penalties."
"Hey, I'm only renting a car," Remo protested.
"I am familiar with American television. You people are childish,
irresponsible and frighteningly violent."
"Where do I check my Uzi?" Remo asked conversationally.
The clerk blanched, and Remo said, "Only kidding."
"Violence is never funny," the clerk admonished.
"You haven't seen me inflict Whirling Disease on a mammal," Remo said.
The St. John's waterfront smelled of fish, age and boredom. Waterfront shacks
were bright red mixed with dull gray. Fishermen puttered around their docked
boats. Nets were slowly drying in the cold sunlight. And no one looked happy.
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Remo pulled up beside a friendly-looking seaman and asked, "Where's the Coast
Guard station?"
"Eh?"
"I said where's the Coast Guard station?"
"Talk slawly," the man said in a strident accent. "Cannat understand you."
"Huh?" asked Remo.
"I cannat understand you, Yank."
"Same here," said Remo. "Coast Guard station. Where?"
The man pointed vaguely. "Yander."
"Where?"
The man leaned in, and Remo received the full force of his fermented breath.
It smelled familiar, but Remo put that out of his mind. He had places to go.
"Yander. As the craw flies."
"Are you trying to say `Yonder. As the crow flies'?"
"I did say it," the fisherman returned.
"Thanks. By the way, is that a burr or a brogue you're speaking?"
"What?"
"It is a brogue," said Chiun.
"If you say so," said Remo.
"If it were a burr, this would be Nova Scotia. It is not."
"What's the difference?"
"It is the difference between New Ireland and New Scotland."
"Oh."
"Did that one's accent fall upon your ears like the one you consigned to his
watery death?"
"Hard to say when everyone all sounds like they have a knot in their tongue,"
said Remo.
AT THE ST. JOHN'S Coast Guard station, they were denied entrance.
"No admittance," the guard said, jabbing his finger at a sign.
"It says, Entree lnterdite," Remo argued.
The guard then pointed to the opposite sign, which did say No Admittance.
"We're here about the Coast Guard Cutter you people are detaining."
"There is no Coast Guard cutter here. Other than Canadian cutters, of
course."
"Of course," said Remo politely.
"Of course," agreed Chiun equally politely.
"Sorry. Our mistake," added Remo with a disarming smile. And they turned to
walk away.
Abruptly they spun, taking out the guards with open-handed chops that brought
both men to their knees. Remo chopped again, and their faces smacked the cold,
hard ground.
They entered otherwise unchallenged.
"Now all we gotta do is find Sandy Heckman," undertoned Remo.
"Listen for cursing," suggested Chiun.
"Good idea," said Remo.
They walked through the grounds until they came upon a Coast Guardsman walking
along all by his lonesome. Security seemed lax at best.
"Excuse us," said Remo.
"You are excused," the man said, walking on by. Remo reached back and arrested
him by the neck. He squeezed. The man froze in place. Then Remo turned him
around with a casual spin.
"I asked a polite question. What's wrong with a polite answer?"
"Nothing."
"Where's your brig?"
The man pointed with the only appendage that seemed to function. His left ear.
"The white building. But it is off-limits at the moment."
"Not to us."
"To everyone."
"If I point you in the general direction, will you take us there?" asked
Remo.
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"No."
"Good," said Remo, who pointed the man in the general direction of the brig
anyway.
To the Coast Guardsman's surprise, he began walking. Remo urged him along with
ungentle squeezes and pinches of his spinal column.
"Why am I walking toward the brig when I don't want to?" the man asked
nervously.
"Because I am playing hell with your motor nerves," Remo responded.
"I confess this is a strange, rather puppety sensation."
"It can get stranger if you don't cooperate," Remo warned.
"I am trying not to cooperate. Why won't my body cooperate with me?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]