The Destroyer 129 - Father To Son by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780373632442
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 2002-10-14T23:00:00+00:00

At brutality, few men on Earth showed as much natural talent as Shan Duk. When it came time to select the champion who would carry the banner for North Korea in the Sinanju Time of Succession, there was only one logical choice.

Some found it odd that the premier hadn't recruited the big man for his personal security force. Although Shan Duk was clearly the most formidable individual in the North Korean government, Kim Jong 11 had never considered bringing the man over to work for him for one simple reason: Shan Duk scared the living bejesus out of the Communist leader.

As the plane from the South landed, the premier stood at the center of his entourage, a few men away from the fearsome intelligence officer. On a good day he kept his distance from Shan Duk. But for a moment as the final alcohol buzz burned off, he wished that the most terrifying thing he had to face was a half-starved brute of a bodyguard.

Sober and shaking, Kim Jong Il listened to the plane tires squeal. It rolled to a stop before the group of men.

The air stairs were quickly put in place. When the door opened a minute later, a lone man stepped into the cold air.

At the sight of the Master of Sinanju, Kim Jong Il felt his bowels clench.

"It's show time," he said with a reluctant moan. Entourage in tow, he headed to the base of the stairs.

The Master of Sinanju descended like a floating mummy. His eyes were as hard and cold as the Korean terrain.

"Master of Sinanju!" Kim Jong Il enthused, a phony smile plastered wide over his face. "Welcome home. We weren't expecting you so soon. So where's that sonny boy of yours?" He stood on tiptoes, looking worriedly up the stairs.

Chiun's voice was glacial. "He is not here." A spark of hope lit the Korean premier's eyes. "Oh, no," he said, attempting a sympathetic tone as insincere as his vanishing smile. "I sure as heck hope no one got the better of him in this contest thing."

Chiun gave him a cancerous look that told the Korean leader that Remo was alive and well.

"Sorry," Kim Jong II said, holding up his hands in apology. "I can't help it. That kid of yours gives me a serious case of shit-the-pants. The way he's always smacking me around, busting the place up when he's in town. I don't think he likes me. But you and me. That's a whole 'nother story. We understand each other."

Smiling again, he offered the Master of Sinanju his hand in friendship.

Chiun took the premier's hand. The premier was glad Chiun took his hand. Shaking hands was nice. Friendly people shook hands. And they were both Koreans, after all. Koreans understood each other with the sort of understanding that was sealed with friendly handshaking niceness.

"There." Kim Jong Il beamed. "One, big happy Korean fam- Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" He was down on his knees before he even realized that Chiun hadn't warmed to a shared bond of Korean niceness after all.

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