Unpopular Science

Chapter 41

Sarah Slate came into the room again, to find nothing changed. For days it had been like this.

“I have held my tongue.”

There was no response.

“I thought I knew you,” she said to the frail, gaunt little figure in the kimono.

Chiun emerged from his meditation. “You do know me. Leave me be.”

“My family,” she said sternly, “traveled the world for generations. We had incredible adventures. We knew many peoples. I thought I recognized the kind of man you were from reading the histories of my family. I thought I knew you, but I was wrong.”

“Then we can end this pointless discussion. Depart now.”

She was angry; Chiun didn’t know why and didn’t care why. He just wanted her to go away. Now she was scribbling on the walls with a reed brush dipped in ink, which she must have brought with her.

“Look, old man!”

Chiun raised his head.

“I thought this was you. I was wrong.”

She threw down the bottle and the reed, splattering the floor with black ink, and stalked out of the room full of hot indignation.

Leaving behind her a sad old man, and the empty shell of another man, and on the wall, scrawled larger than life, the simple lines of a trapezoid pierced by a single slash mark.

It was the symbol of the House of Sinanju.

It was a poltergeist, or a demon, certainly not a human that came into small suite of rooms in a convalescent wing of Folcroft Sanitarium. The doors literally came off the hinges and rattled to the floor, but by then Sarah Slate was near to death.

“Chiun, stop!” Mark Howard cried as he hoisted himself out of bed as fast as he could move.

“Who are you?” demanded the Master of Sinanju Emeritus, one finger pressed against her throat. “Tell me this before you die.”

Sarah Slate opened her mouth, fighting for breath, her body flattened against the wall as if buried under tons of rubble. ‘Who are you, really, old man? Tell me before I die.”

“I am Sinanju, as you know! But what fool knowingly insults a Master?”

“What kind of a Master insults another Master?”

“I will not engage in word play with one such as you.”

“Chiun, you’re killing her!” Howard said, dragging at Chiun’s bony arm.

“I intend to.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“Because I have exposed him,” Sarah croaked as her face colored. “He has not the strength to save his pupil.”

“There is no way to save him or I would have done so.”

“I can save him.” Sarah said, her last words coming out in a ragged, empty breath.

Her neck was abruptly released. Chiun’s eyes were green fire that burned her. “I do not believe you.”

“You have nothing to lose,” she gasped.

“In this you are correct.”

“What is going on?” Mark Howard demanded. Sarah tried to smile as she forced herself to walk. “A Slate goes to resurrect a Master of Sinanju. Again.”