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〃Meaning？〃
〃Meaning； you forgot the moments of selling。 I do not watch them。 I do not use soap powder。〃
Chagrined because he had indeed forgotten the three minutes of mercials at the end of the day's stories； Remo said； 〃Yeah； well； anyway； I was talking about the brochure。〃
〃It may not be a lie；〃 Chiun said。
〃Look around you； it's not a lie？〃
〃I look around and I see that perhaps at one time it was the truth。 I see elegance in decay。 So if these things were said about this palace when they were true； then the advertisement is true。〃
〃Are you telling me； Little Father； that to say this is a stinkhole is a lie？〃
〃I am telling you that truth is a matter of time。 Even in this very land there are people who were once great and who now hide in the hills like frightened calves。〃
〃Well； I don't need that drivel now； Chiun。 I need advice。 I'm supposed to see the top man in this country to find out about that white house； without letting him know that I know。 But he won't see ma〃
Chiun nodded。 〃Then my advice to you is to forget all your training and run head first like a crazed dog into what you； hi your lack of perception； think is the center of things。 There； thrash about like a drunken white man； and then； at the moment of maximum danger； remember just a brief part of the magnificent training of Sinan…ju； and save your worthless life。 At the end of this disgrace； you might by good fortune have killed the right man。 This then is the advice of the Master of Sinanju。〃
Remo blinked。 He stood up from the bed。
〃That's utterly stupid； Chiun。〃
〃I just wanted for once to give you advice I am sure you would follow。 But since I have invested such wealth of knowledge with you； I shall increase this investment。 You think because the emperor appears to be the center of things； he is the center of things。〃
〃It's president； not emperor。〃
〃Whatever name you wish to give to an emperor is your pleasure； my son； but emperors do not change in stare。 And what I am saying to you is that you must know the center of this thing before you can attack it。 'You are not an army that goes blindly wandering through bush and hill and can by sheer weight of numbers accidentally acplish what it wants。 You are skill； a single skill that is designed to crush one point； not ten thousand。 Therefore you must know that point。〃
〃How can I find that point waiting around here in this crummy hotel？〃
〃A man sitting sees many sides very well。 A man running sees only ahead。〃
〃I see many sides when I run。 You taught me that。〃
〃When you run with your feet；〃 said Chiun； and was silent。 Remo left the room to see if he could find something to read； someone to talk to； or even a vagrant breeze to get into the middle of。 He was unsuccessful。 But at the stately doors of the hotel； he saw a busboy run desperately past him with fear hi his eyes。 The manager of the hotel hid the books。 The doorman snapped to attention。
And then Remo saw it。 ing up the main street of the capital city of Busati； an army convoy； machine guns bristling from jeeps。 Leading it was the man who had extended the invitation that writer Remo Mueller see General Obode。
When the lead jeep of the convoy arrived at the doors of the Hotel Busati； it stopped hi a screech of dust off the unpaved street。 Soldiers jumped off their jeeps all along the line before their vehicles braked。
〃Ah； Remo； glad to see you；〃 said now…General William Forsythe Butler； quickly climbing the once…white front steps of the hotel。 〃I've got a bit of bad news fory ou。 The bit is you're returning to America this afternoon。 But I've got some good news for you too。〃
Remo smiled perfunctorily；
〃The good news is I'll be going with you and I'd be happy to answer every question you have。 As a matter of fact； Busati feels it owes you a favor which it hopes to repay。〃
〃By kicking me out of the country？〃
〃President Obode has had some very disappointing experiences with white journalists。〃
〃Then why'd you say I could get to see him？〃
〃I thought I could prevail upon him but I couldn't。〃 Butler shrugged； a big muscular shrug of his shoulders。 〃We'll talk about it some more on the way to the airport。〃
Frankly； Butler was relieved that this Remo Mueller would be leaving the country since the fewer Americans there were nosing around； the less chance of the white house being discovered。 That relief only grew when he got his first look at Remo Mueller's traveling panion； an aged Oriental who padded silently out of the Busati Hotel behind Remo； acknowledged Butler's lukewarm greeting with a silent stare； and sat like stone in the back seat of the jeep。
What was it Obode had said？ 〃When East and West are like father and son near the Busati River； then a force that no man can stop will e to shed blood in the river and on the mountains。〃
East and West。 The aged Oriental and the young white American。
Butler could do without Remo and the Oriental。 He had his own interpretations of the legend。。。 an interpretation that he knew would carry him to the Busatianp residential palace； and power over all the people of all the tribes。
He thought about this in silence as the jeep convoy rolled toward the airport； and then realized he was being a bad host
It was where the road banked in along the Busati River； that he turned toward the back seat to see how his passengers were doing；
They were gone。
〃What the hell？〃 said Butler。 〃Stop the damned convoy。〃
He looked at his driver； then looked back to the rear seats。 They were indeed empty。
〃Did you see them jump out？〃 asked Butler； almost as a reprimand。
〃No； General；〃 said the driver。 〃I didn't know they were gone。 We were doing forty…five miles an hour； General。〃
The long convoy bunched up into tightly packed jeeps as it stopped on Busati's Route One and Only； which ran from the capital city to the airport。 Butler could see for a half…mile in each direction。 There was no sign of them。
〃Their bodies must be up the road no more than a hundred meters or so； General。〃
Butler stood up in the jeep signaling to the vehicle cramped in tight behind him。
〃Sergeant； did you see our passengers？〃
〃Sir？〃 called out the sergeant
〃The white man and the Oriental。 Did you see them jump from the jeep？〃
The sergeant threw the snappy kind of British salute Butler hated so much。 He used the word 〃sir〃 to punctuate his reply。
〃Sir； no sir。 No passengers observed leaving your vehicle； sir。〃
〃Form search parties and scour the road。 Fan out Find them。 They do not know this earth。〃
〃Sir； very good； sir；〃 said the sergeant。
But Remo and Chiun were not found； although it came to be believed that at least five men might have stumbled on them or on something； because the necks of the five were broken and they lay peacefully in search formation； the safeties off their rifles and their fingers on the feather…light triggers； as though a breeze of death had gently put them to sleep。
Three other men were missing； one of them a captain； but General Butler would not wait。 He would not have waited if the gates of hell opened before him。 He was going to catch a plane for America to settle the last payment on a three…hundred…year…old debt； and when that had been collected； the world might see greatness as it had not for thousands of years。
At the airport； Butler told his personal Army detachment to continue the search for the Oriental and the American and to hold them in custody until he got back。 〃I shall be back in two days；〃 he said； and with that walked quickly to the loading ramp of the Air Busati 707； with British pilots and navigators。
Three years before； in an advertisement for Air Busati； two Hausas posed in pilots' uniforms for photographs and the planes emptied of passengers hi less than a minute； most of the passengers being Hausas too。
This Butler remembered as he entered the plane on which he would be the only passenger and headed for the lounge in the back to change from his military uniform。 Butler remembered the advertisement well。 It did not appear in any African newspaper for fear of losing Air Busati the few passengers it had； but it made quite a hit in The New York Times where one militant several days later had called on the Busati Air Force to launch an immediate strike against South Africa。
The militant had held up the advertisement as he said： 〃Why don't these black pilots spearhead an attack on racist South Africa？ I will tell you why。 Because capitalism forces them to fly mercial airliners。〃
Butler had almost cried when he saw the news story about the militant； and when he thought that black men did indeed fly fighter aircraft…in America。
As the 707 jet rose sharply into the darkening Busati sky for the first leg of its journey to Kennedy Airport in New York City Willian Forsythe Butter leaned back in a reclining seat； aware that he was making his last trip west to a land to which centuries before his ancestors had been transported； shackled in the holds of ships built for carrying cattle。
Those trips had taken months。 Many had died and many had thrown themselves overboard when they had a chance。 They had e from many tribes…Lord； Hausa； Ashanti； Dahomey…and they would surrender this herit