Feeding frenzy, p.16
Feeding Frenzy, page 16
Remo couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re right on time. Wanna eat?”
“Certainly.”
She took his arm and her perfume flavored the walk to the car.
· · ·
At the Chinese restaurant, they talked over their meal. Remo was surprised at how he hung on Nalini’s every word. He found her fascinating, in a mysterious way. He was halfway through dinner before he remembered he needed to pump her too.
“Clancy still hanging around?” he asked.
“Yes. He is very determined to save mankind from this terrible HELP. It has been his burden since the death of his brothers. Those poor men, Remo. Dying of overwork because they cared about helping people too much to rest themselves properly.”
“You don’t buy that crap?”
Nalini shrugged languidly. “I am a simple nurse from a foreign land. What do I know of such things? Some say there is a hole in the sky and others a disease in the air. I do not know. Others wiser than I will tell me what is truth.”
“I heard that Jimbo and Robbo Clancy both died of syphilis.”
Nalini’s dark eyes flared. “That is not true!”
“How do you know it isn’t?”
“I hear all the secrets of the Clancy family and I have never heard such a thing said. Why do you ask me these things, Remo?”
“I told you. I’m looking into HELP, and Clancy’s been acting strange since he got here. I’m trying to figure out where he fits in.”
Nalini looked at him closely. She leaned across the table and said, “You are not with the FDA. Who are you? You can tell me. I am good with secrets.”
“Then here’s one you’ll appreciate. The thunderbug isn’t giving people HELP. It isn’t helping them either. It’s worthless as food, despite what people are saying. Those PAPA crazies are starving with every bite.”
“I do not believe that,” Nalini said doubtfully. “You are making fun of me because I am different from you.”
“There’s a pathologist with the CDC who figured it out. He’s going to blow the thunderbug part of the scam apart once he finds a reporter with a working brain.”
Eyes darkening, Nalini said, “These things are beyond a poor foreign girl like me.”
“Where are you from originally?” asked Remo, changing the subject quickly.
Nalini leaned back and toyed with her curried rice dish. “Ceylon,” she said, her voice a pout. “It was called Ceylon when I was a girl. It is Sri Lanka now.”
“So you’re not Indian?”
“I am a Tamil, a Hindu. It is not so very different to Western eyes. I left my country to escape the strife.”
Looking into her large black eyes, Remo felt he had known Nalini a long time, or in some past life. He kept forgetting his food. He kept forgetting everything except those alluring eyes and the perfume that made him feel pleasantly restless. His steamed rice had grown cold and the duck greasy. He had barely touched them.
Before he knew it, they were driving back to his bungalow and she was sitting close to him, her fruity perfume filling his head. He could feel the heat of her body. It was pleasant too. It also made him anxious to get to his destination.
Remo didn’t have to invite her in. Nalini entered as if the invitation need not be spoken, and it was not long before they were kissing experimentally. Remo led Nalini to the bed and she smiled unabashedly as he tried to figure out how to remove her sari.
Laughing, she reached down and took it up by one trailing bit of silk. Then, coming up on one foot, she spun in place–unwrapping herself for him. To his surprise, she wore no undergarments.
Her body was a supple brown masterpiece with nipples as dark as her eyes. They seemed to stare at him.
She bent to turn off the light beside the bed. In the darkness, her smile was a thousand silent invitations to pleasure. They began exploring each other’s bodies. Remo found her skin silky smooth.
Remo pushed everything he had ever learned about Sinanju sexual technique to the back of his mind and took her the way he would have in the carefree days before he had come to Sinanju.
Nalini was no coy maiden, for all her demureness. She knew sex, and she knew men.
What followed was rough and wild and Remo lost himself in her perfect, responsive body.
After Remo had rolled off her, Nalini surprised him by mounting him. Before, she had been warm and delicious. Now she became a tigress, moving up and down, making tiny, inarticulate sounds of pleasure that built into a crescendo so acute she closed her eyes and bit her lips as if suddenly ashamed to give voice to her passion.
The last thing Remo remembered was her dark breasts bouncing before his eyes, her nipples, so close to his face, like flat, alien eyes. They reminded him of something, but he was suddenly too busy responding to her rhythms to care what.
They came together, and then sleep came.
· · ·
Sometime in the hours past midnight, Remo woke up with Nalini’s scent still in his lungs and a relaxed feeling that he had not felt in many years. His bones felt loose and easy in his skin and his muscles were completely devoid of tension.
Then, a wrench turned something in his stomach.
He was instantly aware that he was alone. No warmth came from the empty spot on the bed beside him.
He was naked, the covers down around the foot of the bed.
And on his stomach something crawled.
Remo lifted his head carefully. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he spied a long grotesque shape where his navel was.
Even in the gloom, he could see the flat alien eyespots. And he remembered what Nalini’s nipples had reminded him of.
And before Remo could react, the longhead opened like a scissors, and from the inner edges of each separate bulb, long pincerlike mandibles unfolded like biological straight razors.
His Sinanju-trained nervous system kicked in and Remo’s hand was moving before he willed it to move.
He slapped the hideous thing off his belly and across the room, where it struck the wall with a dry but final sound.
Remo rolled off the bed, hit the lights, and knelt to see exactly what he had killed.
It was dead, its legs already curling up.
The head was in two parts. Long fangs lay revealed.
It was one of the rust-colored ants that had been such a nuisance. Definitely. Only now it looked less like an ant than something else. Remo didn’t know what.
Then he felt something on his back.
Remo whirled, and the sensation was abruptly gone. He heard the sound of something tiny slapping into a window curtain.
He looked at the rug under the curtain. Scrambling to find its legs was another of the ant things. Remo dropped a telephone book on it, and that was that.
More came. He brushed one off his shoulder, crushed it under a bare heel. It was like stepping on dry prickly twigs.
They were coming from the window. It had been closed. Now it was open a crack.
Remo slammed the sash down, crushing at least three. Their separating heads wilted, fangs not quite in open position.
He made a sweep of the room and found one more. He killed it with a shoe.
Then Remo day down on the bed and willed the wrench in his stomach to loosen whatever emotional bolt had been tightened.
When he got his emotions under control, he felt very cold. And angry.
In the darkness, Remo whispered a single soft word.
“Nalini.”
Chapter Eighteen
In the morning, after Remo had explained it all, the Master of Sinanju did not say, “I told you so.” His eyes said it, but his mouth only whispered, “I did not know.” His tone was strange.
“Know what?” wondered Remo.
“That they still lived.”
“Who does?”
Chiun shook away the clouds in his hazel eyes. They cleared. “I have never told you of the Spider Divas,” he said solemnly.
“Spider Divas?”
“They were great rivals of ours in the days of the Mogul emperors.”
“In India?”
“Yes.”
“Nalini told me she was from Sri Lanka.”
“Which was once known as Ceylon. The Spider Divas came from the island of Ceylon.”
“Why are they called Spider Divas?” asked Remo.
“Because it is said that they could speak the language of the spiders and make them do their wicked bidding.”
“Spiders don’t speak.”
“And ants do not hop. Yet we have seen ants do just that.”
They were in Remo’s room. The Master of Sinanju was examining the crushed bodies of the dead antlike things. Remo had flushed most of them down the toilet. One or two mashed dry corpses remained.
“They look like ants to me,” Remo said.
Chiun frowned. “I can make nothing of them, but it is possible it is true.”
“What’s true?”
“Although the Spider Divas were seen, their assassins were not. That was the mystery Master Sambari failed to fathom.”
“I detect a legend coming on.”
Chiun pointed to a spot on the rug. “Sit.”
Obediently, Remo sat, first checking the rug for vermin.
The Master of Sinanju sat too. They faced one another, their legs tucked in the classic lotus position.
“Master Sambari,” Chiun said, “is a Master of whom I never before spoke.”
“Another black sheep?”
Chiun’s tiny nose wrinkled slightly. “No. I tell you these stories of my ancestors so that you may learn. The lesson of Sambari was never necessary for you to learn because Sambari vanquished the last of the Spider Divas in the days of the Mogul emperors.”
“So how come we have them in this country? Sambari was before Columbus, right?”
“Who is to know?” Chiun said dismissively. “When we return home, I will have to revise the scrolls that extoll Sambari’s achievement. The man was a bungler. He let one get away.”
“Nalini looked a little young to be this Eldress,” Remo pointed out. “Or a long-lost Spider Diva.”
“She is obviously a descendant of that unclean clan. There can be no doubt that it was she who dispatched Theodore Soars-With-Eagles, possibly by sending one of her spiders to his toupee.”
“Tepee,” said Remo absently. “Still, the Harvesters did say that a strange Indian girl had been hanging around Magarac’s tent.”
Chiun’s face gathered up in annoyance. “Indian! You told me a squaw.”
“I know I did,” Remo said heatedly. “I was told Indian. I thought that meant squaw, not East Indian.”
“If you had repeated to me the word Indian, I would have guessed the truth instantly!”
“You’d only have jumped to a conclusion.”
“A correct conclusion. One that would have spared you the terror of this night.”
Remo folded his arms stubbornly. “So what’s the story?”
The Master of Sinanju’s bony fingers found their opposite wrists and his kimono sleeves came together, hiding them from sight.
“The Spider Divas were assassins,” he said. “Exceedingly cunning temptresses who seduced their victims and left them to sleep the sleep of eternity with their unclean creatures. This is known.”
“You’re losing me.”
“You almost lost yourself through ignorance and lust. I will begin at the beginning.”
Chiun looked down at his ivory white sleeping kimono and began speaking. His squeaky voice grew stern in timbre.
“The days of which I speak were the days of the Mogul Emperor Aurangzeb. These were glorious days, although not as glorious as the days of the Egyptians or the Romans or especially the Persians. Still, the Mogul emperors of India had much to offer Sinanju, for they presided over a fractious empire, in which Hindus and Sikhs and unimportant others were persecuted. For the Mogul emperors of India followed the Prophet Mohammed.”
“Lotsa enemies to be killed, huh?”
Chiun shrugged. “Enemies exist to be crushed. Aurangzeb knew this and so offered good gold to insure that the House of Sinanju stood by his throne. In time, his enemies waned. But a foe is often more dangerous when his power wanes, for when he recognizes his fate approaching, he often lashes out with no regard for his own life. It was so here, Remo.
“Now one of the more tenacious foes were the Rajputs, who were Hindus. They revolted often. They were in truth revolting inasmuch as they ate with their right hands only. They did this because–”
“Can it, and move on.”
“As you wish,” Chiun said thinly. “Now the Rajputs sent to the island of Ceylon for one to succor them. They knew they could not harm the Mogul emperor, for he was shielded by the awesome hand of Sinanju, through Sambari the Careless, formerly known as Sambari the Protector.”
“How fast they fall from grace once the truth leaks out,” Remo said wryly.
The Master of Sinanju frowned primly and spoke on.
“Now in Ceylon lived a people called the Tamils. Although they were not Indians, they were Hindus. And among them lived a clutch of females known as the Spider Divas, who lived without men, taking mates but once in their lives, and then only to reproduce, as is proper. After that, they ate them.”
“They ate their husbands?” Remo exclaimed.
“The lucky ones, yes.”
“What about the unlucky ones?”
“Slaves. For the Spider Divas were said to possess charms beyond those of mortal woman. No one knew what these were. They were temptresses and were said to converse with spiders, thus impelling them to do their deadly bidding. For the Spider Divas, having ill luck with their menfolk, made their way through the world by hiring themselves out as assassins. This is a terrible thing, Remo.”
“Competition always is, to the one being competed against.”
“I meant that women would take on honorable work rightly belonging to men. In Korea, women stand on pedestals of honor.”
“So they don’t catch on how unimportant they are. Let’s get back to the Spider Divas.”
“These base females stole the very food from the mouths of the babes of Sinanju, whom my ancestors fed.”
“Let’s just skip the part about the starving babies,” Remo said impatiently. “What happened next?”
“Now in these days, the Spider Divas were in decline. They had suffered greatly whenever they challenged the hand of Sinanju. Their numbers were few. And they were having difficulty finding willing men.”
“No kidding,” Remo said dryly.
“People had begun to talk.”
“Imagine.”
Chiun leaned forward to whisper, “It is rumored, Remo, they had had been reduced to harlotry.”
“No!”
Chiun nodded wisely. “At this time, it was known that only three Spider Divas still lived in seclusion. But when they made their appearance in the city of Ahmadnagar, where the Mogul Emperor held forth, persecuting his subjects prudently and with wisdom, all knew of their purpose. For they were known for their great dark eyes, and the bright harlot colors of their saris.
“Hearing this, Master Sambari sought out the Spider Divas. The first, he killed in her sleep. The second he surprised when the harlot was dallying with one of the dandy soldiers of the Mogul Emperor, for knowing their lord was protected by the House of Sinanju, they had grown soft in their ways. Sambari dispatched both with a single blow and jellied their loins as they copulated, unwitting.”
“At least they died happy,” said Remo.
Chiun made a face, then went on.
“But the third Spider Diva, whose name comes down to us as Padmini, proved elusive. Master Sambari hunted her high and low, finally learning that she had slipped out of the city, in rightful fear of her life.”
The Master of Sinanju closed his eyes and began rocking to and fro, as if reliving the events of centuries gone by.
“Sambari followed her, and in a forest whose name is unimportant, otherwise he would have mentioned it in his scrolls, Sambari came upon Padmini, the last Spider Diva.
“She slept by the firelight, her perfect face peaceful as that of a child. The wind toyed with her apricot sari. And for a moment Sambari took delight in her aspects.”
“Nice tits, huh?”
“You are cavalier for one who has been seduced and abandoned,” Chiun scolded, eyes remaining shut.
Remo scowled darkly. “Don’t remind me.”
“It is my job to remind you, lustful one.”
And when his pupil had no reply to that, the Master of Sinanju went on. “Sambari looked upon this sleeping vision and grew intrigued by this creature. He wondered about stories he had heard as a boy of the Spider Divas. For strange tales were told by men who had seen them naked, Remo.”
“Yeah?” said Remo, recalling Nalini’s smooth brown body. “Like what?”
“That under their saris, they possessed the ugly bristled limbs of spiders.”
“Nalini wasn’t like that.”
“In the dark, all women are alike,” said Chiun in a careless tone. “As the Spider Diva Padmini slept, Master Sambari reached down to expose her nakedness so as to satisfy his curiosity. The silk came away and he saw that the Spider Diva did not sleep alone. Crouching in the moist warm spots of her body, under her arms and in back of her knees were dark shapes. They were decorated with eyes, Remo. Black unwinking eyes. They peered from everywhere, from even the less wholesome hollows of her alluring form.
“Frightened, Sambari restored the cloth and slew the hideous sleeping creature with a single blow to her forehead. Then he ran. Not in an unseemly fashion, of course, but in a prudent one.”
“Of course.”
Chiun’s hazel eyes snapped open. His voice resumed its normal squeaky tones.
“No more was ever heard of the Spider Divas after that,” he said.
“So it was a happy ending,” said Remo.
“Not exactly. For upon returning to Ahmadnagar, Sambari discovered that the Mogul Emperor Aurangzeb had died in his sleep.”
“A spider got him?”
Chiun shrugged elaborately. “There was no mark, no sign, and as the Mogul Emperor had achieved the age of eighty-nine–old for him but young for Sinanju–death was credited to his advanced years. Except for one thing Sambari wrote in his scrolls but told no one else.”
