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dear?" "I will not kill you, wicked one," Chiun answered. Nuihc grinned. So, too, did Jeremiah Purcell. There was something wrong with the smile-with everything. The Nuihc arrogance was there. But the rest was off. Remo had no time to question. "Welcome to your doom, white mongrel!" the Fallen Master of Sinanju cried out in triumph. And in a blinding instant, Nuihc was off the worn path and in the air, teeth gritted in a mask of a hatred so primal that it defied the very grave itself. SMITH AND HOWARD HAD taken refuge behind the facsimile of a burned building. The CURE director's heart was in his throat as he watched Nuihc's first attack. An uncoiled toe flew for Remo's throat. Smith was certain that it would register. But at the last moment, Remo seemed to fall in with the blow. His body bent back and Nuihc flew over, rolling and springing back up. Page 121 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html As Nuihc jumped toward Remo, the Dutchman vaulted at Chiun. The blond-haired man circled the elderly Korean on the frozen earth beside the path. No blows registered as the two combatants circled each other. Above, the sky began to shimmer. A cloak of swirling purple flooded the inverted bowl above the planet. Smith's worried gray eyes were directed on the heavens. "Purcell," he breathed, awed by the supernatural display. Mark Howard was squinting at the battle. "There's only one of them," he announced all at once. Smith tore his eyes from the roiling sky. "What?" "There's only one guy there, Dr. Smith," Howard repeated excitedly. "It's another illusion." Before Smith could stop him, Howard was scampering out of hiding and running toward the Master's House. "It's Purcell!" Howard yelled. Remo's attention was directed at Nuihc, Chiun's at the Dutchman. Neither man dared look to Howard, who had stopped on the road below the bluff. "I told you to stay back, junior," Remo snarled. Mark's face was pleading. "You're both fighting Purcell!" he insisted. "There's no one else there but him. It's just another illusion." The words struck hard. Howard had some insight into Purcell's sick mind. For an instant Remo thought he had been given a decoy and that the Master of Sinanju was fighting the true Dutchman. But then the man Remo thought was Nuihc glanced down at the assistant CURE director, hatred in his eyes. "Knives!" he shouted. Mark instantly buckled, grabbing chest and abdomen. He collapsed to the road. Smith ran from cover to his side. He began dragging the injured young man to safety. Remo wheeled in shock. "Purcell," he hissed. From the corner of his eye he saw the shadow that had been dancing around Chiun vanish. The Master of Sinanju found himself facing empty air where a moment ago he would have sworn was a solid opponent. As the shadow Dutchman was evaporating, Nuihc's features began to change. The flat Asian face dissolved, replaced by the Caucasian features that had been lurking below all along. The black hair lengthened and turned to silken blond. The hazel eyes melted to electric blue. Remo found himself face-to-face with Jeremiah Purcell. A crooked smile split the younger man's pale face. Above their heads, lightning crackled blindingly across the swirling purple sky, flashing demonic light over the Dutchman's twisted features. Fat drops of rain the color of blood began to splatter the ground. They struck the earth like balls of thick molten lead. "I am Nuihc!" Purcell cried out. "Do not speak the name of that failure in my presence, for he is dead to me." "That makes two of you," Remo said. And ignoring the growing storm that was a window to the madness of Jeremiah Purcell's mind, Remo Williams lashed out. SMITH PULLED Howard behind the half-burned building. By the end the young man was crawling as Smith dragged. "I'm fine," Mark insisted, panting. "He just knocked the wind out of me." Smith searched for blood. There wasn't any, nor were there any wounds. Typically victims of the Dutchman's mental attacks believed so vividly in their injuries that they manifested fatal symptoms. But, thank God, Mark Howard's reactions to the Dutchman's mind games were atypical. Leaving his assistant propped against the wall, Smith scampered over, peering around the corner. Up near the House of Many Woods, Chiun had fallen cautiously back, his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his kimono. This fight was Remo's. Smith didn't know how to gauge a Sinanju battle. It seemed to last an eternity. Feet and fists flew. Traded blows deflected to impotence. Page 122 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |