“The first thing they did was to dig a giant hole in the north end of Pink Beach. They have those silly Americans working for nothing. They're part of the cult. Once it was dug, they built a concrete foundation with a concrete roof,” said the boy.
“Yes, my friend Sally heard them saying an airplane would have to be able to land on it without disturbing it. That was before the hijacked plane arrived,” said the girl.
“And then they built rubber rooms inside it, and I remember seeing them bring in rubber bags.”
“How many?” asked Remo.
“We counted fifteen. We thought it was strange. Then they covered up everything with the sand.”
“And then of course the plane landed.”
Remo reported all of this to Smith and got the order he expected:
“Get the rubber bags.”
He promised the family that he would personally remove the Powies from their island, even if the U.S. government didn't.
“I see that you've got an idiot box,” said the boy.
“You mean the communicator?” asked Remo.
“I don't know what it does,” said the boy. “But when you have to have something run by backward people you reduce it to two buttons. That way they have to be able to work it. It could be anything.”
“Sometimes I have difficulty with mechanical objects,” admitted Remo.
“They built it just for you, Remo,” said Chiun.
The north end of Pink Beach was guarded by three Powies using their positive thoughts to ward off painful sunburn. They were in a great deal of pain from red, peeling skin.
One of them was talking about returning to group therapy instead of Poweressence. She was called a traitor.
Remo examined Pink Beach. They had done a good job of covering up the concrete. But it was easy to sense its location. The mass virtually breathed its presence under the pink sand.
The three Powie guards tried to stop Remo. With a flick of his wrist he caught their oncoming bodies and flung them into the sea. Just at the horizon was the American aircraft carrier sending off another flight of planes.
Chiun watched the wrist action as Remo propelled the charging Powies into the gently rolling waves off Pink Beach. It was hard for him to tell how much Remo was regaining of his functions by so simple a move. He could have done that while totally under the influence of the solution.
“You should have saved them to dig our way in,” said Chiun.
But he knew moving through sand was only slightly more difficult that moving through water and even people without Sinanju could do that.
They got into the room easily. Chiun pushed Remo back so that he would not step on an almost invisible spot of moisture on the rubber floor.
Remo recognized the onion-and-garlic smell. It was the formula.
Inside the room was a small glass chamber outfitted with rubber arms. A person could work with the material inside that capsule and then climb through the trapdoor underneath and come out at the entrance.
A spout and a conveyor belt were within easy reach of the arms. Apparently the rubber bags moved along the belt and were filled. A heating iron at the end of the belt probably sealed the bags.
And at the end were fifteen racks under shower heads. Apparently that was where the rubber bags were washed off and stored. But only one rubber bag remained.
“Chiun, you search for the rubber bags while I get away from here.”
“I am not a treasure hunter, I am an assassin.”
“Then I'll do it,” said Remo.
“You know you don't have your breathing correct yet,” said Chiun.
Remo went out through the sand to the fresh air and waited for Chiun. It was not a long wait.
“There is only one bag left,” said Chiun.
Remo fumbled with the communicator and finally got Smith.
“Fourteen bags are missing.”
“That's unfortunate. Move on the Dolomos now. Find out what they've done with the solution. Find out who has the formula. Find out everything.”
“And the hostages?”
“Later. I'm sorry, but it's necessary.”
“Maybe I can get to the Dolomos easiest by springing the hostages,” said Remo.
“But remember, they are secondary,” said Smith.
“Right,” lied Remo.
Remo found the hostages were being kept at the hotels on the harbor and being moved to whichever news organization paid the highest price for an interview. As it turned out, the spokesman for the group who had such profound sympathy for their cause also sold printing to Poweressence. He had profound sympathy for them even when they put alligators into people's swimming pools.
He had manicured hair, a calm disposition, and was being lavished with praise from a reporter for his remarkable composure.
Remo gave the spokesman a light punch to the solar plexus, doubling him up to the applause of the rest of the hostages. Then he took the Powie whips and wrapped them tightly around Powie necks. He took the television camera cords and just as tightly wrapped them around the necks of the television reporters.
“You're free,” he said to the hostages. “Just stay here till the Marines arrive.”
Several Powies advanced on Remo and Chiun, firing machine guns taken from the American advisers. They stopped firing when Remo and Chiun mangled their hands and flung them and their weapons against the coral rocks.
When Rubin Dolomo heard the firing he ran to his command post atop the high ridge that divided Harbor Island, now his Kingdom of Alarkin.
He got reports immediately. It was the dark-eyed man with thick wrists.
“Absolute negativity has found us,” he said.
“Launch the secondary plan?” asked the engineer.
“Not yet. We got him with the solution before, we can get him again.”
Rubin Dolomo climbed up a little ladder atop the roof of his command post, and wheezing into a megaphone said:
“Here I am. Come after me, you negative force of evil. I am the leader of the Warriors of Zor, the light against darkness, the one truth that lives forever.”
Hearing this, Beatrice Dolomo told her two handsome Powie companions to put their clothes back on and rushed to the command post.
“Why are you telling him where we are?”
“Because I want him here, precious. We stalled him last time with just a little of the solution. This time we're going to send him back to the joining of his mother's egg and his father's sperm. I hope he likes the womb.”
At the perimeter of the hotel a light mist emerged from the ground like a fog shooting upward. Remo smelled the garlic and onion and moved back.
He saw Rubin and Beatrice Dolomo peering down at him through binoculars from the roof of one of the resort cottages.
“You stay away from that mist. I will get them. At least it is a proper assassination, even if they are two nothings,” Chiun said.
“Can't kill them. Got to find out where they secreted the formula and the rest of the solution,” said Remo.
“Of course, I should have known,” said Chiun. “This was too much like honorable work. I am still on a treasure hunt.”
Some of the reporters had heard the firing and now were focusing on Chiun as he moved through the fine spray.
“Another devotee of the embattled religious faith now goes to pay homage to his spiritual leader, Rubin
