Thunder thudded somewhere in the distance. A snaking stream of lightning cut through the cheerless gray sky.

Dreary fat raindrops splattered loudly against the windshield. The wipers were attached at the top of the frame--unlike those in America. They squeaked angrily and doggedly across the sheet of bowed glass.

Remo had always thought that the British Isles were famous for their lousy weather. But he was willing to wager Germany could give England a real run for its money. He could not remember one decent day since they had arrived in Germany.

The dismal cast of the sky translated to Remo's attitude. He wanted nothing more than to get the last of the thousand-year-old junk in the back of the truck moved off German soil.

The treasure Remo was transporting across Germany was part of the legendary Nibelungen Hoard. A few weeks earlier, he and the Master of Sinanju had been involved in a race with a secret neo-Nazi organization to retrieve the incredibly valuable fortune. The neo-Nazi organization-called IV-had wanted the money to further its nefarious schemes. Chiun had simply wanted the money. In the end, Chiun had won out.

An eleventh-hour deal made with an interested and greedy third party had reduced Chiun's treasure to half the actual Hoard. However, even after halving the loot, there was a tremendous amount left over.

When he learned that their portion of the Hoard was in a storage facility in Bonn, Remo's employer had insisted that it be moved immediately.

"It's too risky, Remo," Harold W. Smith of the supersecret American agency CURE had said.

"Risk shmisk," Remo had said dismissively. "It's sitting in a half-dozen sheds collecting dust. No one's going near it."

"What if someone gets curious? What if they investigate to see what is in the storage facility? Good Lord, what if someone has already done so?"