He needed a world champion and hadn't been offered anything better than some middle-aged guy with chinos and an I-am-a-virgin t-shirt.

He would watch and see. They were all pieces of meat and maybe this piece of meat could run. If he finished in the top three and made the Olympic team, well, maybe, just maybe America was ready for a flake. What was the name of that guy who did the high jumping in the Donald Duck shirt? Everybody seemed to like him. Maybe this could be the same kind of find. Of course, he'd have to figure out a way to cut out Wally Mills and the chink, but if he waved enough promises under this Remo's nose, he shouldn't have any trouble getting him to come along.

To hell with it. The thing to do was to sit back and watch the race and see what happened.

Down on the field, Chiun was giving Remo his usual pre-race instructions.

"Remember, do not run too fast."

"I know, Chiun."

"Yes, I know you know, but it doesn't hurt to remind you. Last week, you almost set a world's record. That was dangerous. If I hadn't thrown that pebble at you to get your attention, who knows what foolishness you might have committed? Now, just run well enough to make the team. The Olympics. That is where world's records shall fall before us like grass before the honed blade."

"Yes, Little Father," Remo said. The truth was, and he didn't want to tell it to Chiun, that he was beginning to enjoy running fast. That was why he had gotten carried away the week before and almost run at high speed. It took a pebble thrown by Chiun, hitting Mm right behind the ear, to wake him up. But he had decided against telling Chiun that he was beginning to enjoy the competition because Chiun was suspicious of anything that Remo enjoyed doing.

49

Better to let him think that Remo was still doing this only from a sense of duty.

"Hey. Old man."

Remo did not turn around.