Legacy, Book 8 by Gerald Welch & Warren Murphy

Author:Gerald Welch & Warren Murphy [Welch, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944073534
Publisher: Warren Murphy Media LLC

Chapter 8

Before coming to the reservation, Stone Smith was a Navy SEAL. He was used to punitive situations and trained to survive without food and water in the harshest possible environments. And yet, on his return flight from North Korea, he had found it nearly impossible to find a comfortable position in his plane seat.

He tried to sleep, but between freaking out that he had barely survived an attack from North Korea’s diminutive dictator and the aggravating tickle that had claimed the inside of his lungs, his sleep only came in small spurts. The first time he woke up coughing, he thought he saw Chiun standing over him, but when he opened his eyes, the Master of Sinanju was snoring in his own seat on the far side of the plane. It was possible that he dreamed it, but he was sure that Chiun had done something to him while he was asleep.

Chiun was over one hundred years old and looked every year of it, but Stone was not fooled by what his eyes told him. The little Korean did not even weigh a hundred pounds, but he was the Master of Sinanju — the man who trained his father Remo Williams, and the deadliest man on the planet. Being a SEAL meant nothing to a man who could fling bullets from machine guns back faster than they had been fired. Stone imagined that even Sunny Joe wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.

The only other person on the plane besides the pilot was Mick Walker. He slept peacefully in his reclined wheelchair. The more Stone looked at the wheelchair, the more he was certain that it was more comfortable than his own seat. After a few minutes of fidgeting, Stone stood and stretched, glancing over at Chiun to make sure that he was still asleep. Stone silently stepped toward the bathroom to sneak a smoke. He began checking his pockets as he approached the bathroom door, but they were empty. Stone looked behind and under his seat just in case they had fallen out of his pocket, but nothing was there. He squeezed his eyes shut in irritation, walked over to the apparently sleeping figure on the other side of the plane and crossed his arms.

“Okay, Chiun, what did you do with my cigarettes?” he asked, glaring.

“Silence, child,” Chiun said, his eyes still closed. “Your better is trying to sleep.”

“You took my cigarettes.”

Chiun reluctantly opened his hazel eyes. They were a strong and youthful contrast to his wrinkled face.

“I’m not joking, Chiun, give me my cig…”

The tiny Korean was suddenly standing. Just shy of five feet, he looked like a small child next to Stone. Chiun held the cigarettes in front of him, easily within Stone’s reach, but something about the way he was looking at Stone let him know better than to try to take them.

“Would you like to see a trick that always brings a smile to the faces of Sinanju children?”

“Am I allowed to say no?” Stone asked.

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