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team. He dressed in sneakers and tennis shirts and looked like Bo Peep but those who knew him had the sense that he was more like the contents of a sewage system. But without the richness.
    "James Bond, you're talking," said Bruce.
    "No," said Barry. "It's a great play. It's by Shakespeare, I think."
    "Naaaah. No box office," said Marmelstein.
    "Let's see how much coke you fellows moved last year," said Barry.
    "Okay. Hamlet . But with tits. We got to have tits," said Marmelstein.
    "There were no tits in Hamlet ," Barry said.
    "All men? Gay?" said Hank Bindle.
    "No," said the writer. "There was Ophelia."
    "We'll have Ophelia with the biggest set of tits since Genghis Khan," said Bruce.
    "Genghis Khan was a man," Barry Schweid said.
    "With a name like Genghis? A man?" said Bruce, shocked. He looked at Hank Bindle. "I think so," Bindle said. As the creative arm, he was supposed to be able to read newspapers and everything, even ones without pictures.
    "Was this Genghis Khan gay?" asked Marmelstein.
    "No," Schweid said. "He was a great Mongol conqueror."
    "I never heard of a mongrel with a name like Khan," said Marmelstein. "He was probably gay."
     
    When Remo arrived at the condominium, set above the blue waters of Miami Beach, he brought a duck and some rice for the following day's dinner.
    A wisp of a man with delicate strands of white beard and white locks coming down over his ears sat on the veranda. He wore a kimono and did not turn to answer when Remo called his name.
    "Little Father," Remo said again. "Is everything all right?"
    Chiun, the Master of Sinanju, said nothing.
    Remo did not know if Chiun was being quiet or if he was just ignoring Remo. There was no way that he had not heard him. Chiun could hear an elevator start on the next block.
    "I got the duck," Remo said.
    "Yes, of course, the duck," Chiun said. Right. It was ignoring that he was doing.
    "Is something wrong?" Remo asked.
    "What should be wrong? I'm used to this."
    "Used to what, Little Father?"
    "I said I was used to it."
    Chiun looked out to the sea, his long fingernails folded into each other.
    Remo thought, I will not ask. He wants me to ask . Remo started the slow boiling of the rice. He looked back at Chiun and surrendered.
    "All right. What are you used to?" he asked.
    "I am so used to it I hardly notice."
    "You notice enough to ignore me," Remo said.
    "Some things one cannot shut out, no matter how hard he tries."
    "What?"
    "Did you enjoy St. Maarten?" Chiun asked.
    "You didn't want to go. I had to take seventeen brothers all at once by myself. I could have used you. Fortunately, they bunched up so there wasn't any problem. But you know seventeen is seventeen."
    "Has it come to this?" Chiun asked woefully.
    "What?"
    "You're trying to use guilt on your teacher. On the trainer who has given you the awesome power of Sinanju. And now guilt? Guilt for what? For giving you what no white man has ever had? Giving from my own blood and breathing. And then you come here after being gone for a month and you try to make me feel guilty?"
    "What did I do?" Remo asked.
    "Nothing," said Chiun and turned to the window in silence.
    In Miami Beach the next day, the telephone rang. The call was for Remo. Smith would be coming into Miami. Apparently there was something even more important than CURE's lost files.
    Had Remo or Chiun, in their travels, ever heard of a mountain of gold?
     
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    The knife went into the throat perfectly, slicing across the jugular and cutting the windpipe, rendering the soldier helpless.
    Neville Lord Wissex stepped back so that Generalissimo Moombasa Garcia y Benitez could see his soldier die, could see how well the knife fighter worked.
    "We take a regular Gurkha soldier and give him further training, as you can see," said Lord Wissex. He wore a pinstriped business suit with vest and gray leather gloves.
    The generalissimo watched. He could have sworn his soldier would have killed the knife fighter,