"You know it's urgent when he starts invoking the gods," whispered Remo. "Normally he doesn't acknowledge any gods."

"I will make flight and hotel arrangements," said Smith.

"You'll be glad you did," said Remo, hanging up. Turning to the Master of Sinanju, he said, "We're on."

Chiun flung a nest of wiring away with such force it adhered to the wall like tossed spaghetti.

"At last. At last my ancestors will again rest in peace."

"Not to mention this descendant," Remo said dryly.

THE NORTHWEST AIRLINES flight to Osaka had more than its share of Japanese passengers, and their faces stiffened when the Master of Sinanju stepped aboard, resplendent in his apricot kimono with silver stitching.

Chiun glared at every Japanese face that dared glare at him first.

By the time the plane filled up, the cabin atmosphere was thick with glaring.

Chiun took his accustomed seat over the left wing. He wore the jade nail protector designed to protect the stub of the injured nail he was cultivating, and curled the finger in the palm of a clenched fist so it could not be noticed.

"Let's not have a scene," Remo whispered. "it's gonna be a long flight."

"Agreed. We will talk of Korea to pass the long hours until we perform this important service our Emperor demands of us."

"Feel free."

Chiun raised his voice. "Have you ever heard of the feared kamikaze warriors, Remo?"

"Yeah. What's that got to do with Korea?"

"Everything." Chiun lifted his voice to an even higher register. "It was during the era of Kublai Khan, who wished to subjugate Japan, a noble goal. Kublai had first conquered Korea, an ignoble goal, from there to launch his invasion by sea. But Kublai impressed Korean shipbuilders to build his war fleet."

All through the cabin, Japanese heads cocked to catch the words of the Master of Sinanju.