Chiun stepped off the blond's foot and the man stared at him, confused, wondering how somebody so small could weigh so much when he stepped on a foot.

"Don't worry," the blond said. "Your guy's going to eat my dust."

"Always one step behind, loudmouth," Chiun reminded him, holding up one finger topped with a long curved nail.

When he stepped back to Remo, he was asked, "Why didn't you just smack him in the mouth, Chiun?"

"I would have," Chiun said, "but I don't know the stupid rules for this stupid race. Maybe if this clod doesn't run, there are not enough people or something and we would have to do this all over. I thought it better to do what I did."

"Well, I don't mind you making promises that I have to keep, Chiun, but I think you'd better hope for one thing."

"Which is?"

"That this blond lump runs at least fourth. 'Cause if you want me to stay just one step in front of him and he's at the back of the pack, I'm out of the Olympics. There goes all your endorsement money, not to mention Smitty getting sore."

51

Chiun waved his hand airily. "You just make sure he doesn't run worse than fourth place. It will give you something to do. Now, get over there with the others because I don't think they will let you start the race from a sitting position here on the bench."

The seven other runners took their places in the starting block. Remo just stood up in lane five, his hands in his pockets, waiting for the gun. The blond was in lane three and Remo decided that as soon as the gun sounded, he would hook up with the guy and keep one step ahead of him all the way. He'd worry about the end of the race when he got to it.

The gun crackled in the thin Boston air and the runners sprinted off. Remo moved up alongside the blond, then moved one step ahead of him.