The blood-spattered rock was bare.
?Eighteen
He was crawling, wounded and bleeding, down the cliff side of Devil's Mountain, heading for a cluster of fishing boats below. His blond hair bobbed in the twilight as the Dutchman struggled to free a small dinghy while holding his smashed shoulder in place.
"Take these persons to the police," Chiun told Sidonie. "But do not mention Remo or me."
"I get it," Sidonie said. "I knew you wasn't no tourists." Yelling happily, she bullied the girls toward the road leading to Marigot.
The Dutchman wobbled in the small boat. With his good arm, he pulled out the throttle to start the outboard motor. It coughed twice, then purred.
Remo touched his broken ribs. They wouldn't stand up to a descent down a cliff. There was only one way to catch the Dutchman, and that would have to be done perfectly or not at all. "What the hell," Remo said out loud. He'd done it perfectly twenty-four times in a row. He might as well press his luck. He stepped back a few paces and ran off the cliff to begin the Flying Wall. Arms outstretched, he soared over the Dutchman's dinghy, shifting his weight to land alongside it. Painless, he thought as he skimmed on top of the water like a sea bird. The Dutchman watched him with grim resignation.
The boat circled crazily when Remo grabbed hold of it, still traveling fast from the momentum of his dive.
"Just felt like dropping in," Remo said.
The Dutchman stomped on his fingers.
"Is that any way to treat the guy who thought he killed you?"
"Go back to shore," the Dutchman said.
"Sorry, kid. There's a nice girl on the island who doesn't want you running around loose. Not to mention a truckload of dead men who aren't that crazy about you, either."
The Dutchman kicked hard at Remo's head. When he moved out of the way, the Dutchman shoved the throttle up full and sped away. Remo caught up to the boat in two strokes, dove, and caught hold of the outboard's whirling propeller with his hands. Underwater, he heard the motor clink and die.
"Looks like you're staying," Remo said, tossing the propeller into the boat with a clang.
For a moment the Dutchman looked at him with disgust, but his attention was drawn further out to sea. Two deep lines settled between his eyes as he held out his hand to Remo.
"What? So friendly? I thought you were the last of the bluebloods. No handshakes with the proles."
"Get in," he said urgently.
A gray fin followed in Remo's wake as the Dutchman pulled him aboard. Remo did an unconscious doubletake when he saw the shark's form passing near the boat.
"Guess I owe you one."
The Dutchman stood glaring at him, his hand clutching the red-stained clothing over his shoulder.
"So I'll tell you something. Nuihc's spirit didn't blow up your castle. My housekeeper did. She practices on explosives between dusting and ironing."
The young man said nothing, but his eyes registered a disbelieving relief.
"It's true. Nobody's going to hurt you now. Except for me, that is. Or Chiun. Or the cops." He smiled, but the Dutchman only looked at him silently, his eyes shining and alert with fever.
"You helped me out. I wish you'd tell me why," Remo said.
The Dutchman spoke quietly. "That is not an honorable way for an assassin to die."
Remo grimaced. "You sure don't make it easy to kill you."
"Perhaps I'll kill you first." The blood from his shoulder was streaming through the Dutchman's fingers. His knuckles were pressed hard into the flesh, and his hand was trembling.
"You're hurt."
The Dutchman shrugged.
"Look, Chiun'll never let me hear the end of this, but if you let me take you in to the police station, well leave it at that. After you get that shoulder treated, you can break out of any jail they put you in. Just give me your word that you'll leave Chiun and me and the girl alone. And my housekeeper too. Deal?"
"I broke my word to you before."
"I never was a very good businessman, but I'd trust you."
The Dutchman's eyes glistened. "You are a fool. Like the old man."
"I guess there are worse things."
He breathed deeply. For a moment their eyes locked. Then the Dutchman straightened, his quiet arrogance reasserted.
"I have made my promise to Nuihc. You and Chiun must die by my hand." Slowly he moved toward Remo in the rocking boat.
"Sorry to hear it," Remo said.
The Dutchman lashed out an elbow and a knee. The elbow caught Remo in his broken ribs, the knee in his hurt leg. Remo tumbled backward, making the dinghy roll wildly and half fill with water. He kicked out with his legs, rolling off his back. He landed in a crouch, his arms free to launch two fists into the Dutchman's belly. The wind whooshed out of the man.
The Dutchman lunged for Remo, his eyes blinking away the river of blood that filled them. Remo twisted out of the way, dangerously unbalancing the boat. The Dutchman tottered on the edge for a second, his arms windmilling, then fell head first into the sea. He emerged a few feet away from the boat, blood spurting from the bridge of his nose. Nearby, a familiar gray fin hovered uncertainly.
"Quick, give me your hand," Remo shouted. The Dutchman made no move. "It's the shark. He's back. Hurry up."
The Dutchman smiled slowly. "No, thank you, my friend," he said.
"For Christ sake, I'll finish you in the boat if you want. Don't get torn up by a shark."
"It doesn't matter," the Dutchman said, his voice eerily calm. "Please give my regards to your esteemed father."
"Father? I'm an orphan. Get in here, Purcell."
"Your true father. The Master of Sinanju. He has trained you well, in your heart as well as your body. He is right to be proud of you."
He was swimming away awkwardly, a stream of blood behind him. The fin in the distance wavered as the shark smelled prey, then homed in quickly toward the blond head receding in the water.
"Purcell."
"Till we meet in a better life," the Dutchman said.