Last Rites td-100 Read online

  "It's so unfair," she whined.

  "What is?" the doctor asked.

  "Life. Life is unfair."

  "I know what you mean," the doctor said absently as he recharged the needle with perganonal, a powerful female hormone that invariably sent Roxanne's moods swinging like a five-hundred-pound gorilla on a chandelier.

  "I so, so want to get preggers. Why can't I get preggers?"

  "Because you had your tubes tied ten years ago," the doctor said flatly.

  "Is that any frigging reason?"

  "Normally, yes."

  "Well, I got 'em untied, didn't I?"

  "I counseled you the original operation might not be reversible."

  "Well, I paid enough to have it done. Now look at me. I got track marks all over my butt just because in a weak moment I let some butcher root around in my guts."

  "I'm ready with the second shot."

  "Just work around the tattoo."

  "Which one?"

  "Any one. I don't want track marks on my tattoos. Vanity Fair's gonna photograph them for next month's cover."

  "Good Lord," the doctor said.

  "What's 'a matter?" asked Roxanne, giving her backside a meaty smack. "Don't you think I got a nice butt?"

  "It's ... colorful," the doctor admitted, his eyes averting to her creased back. It was no more appetizing. All those pimples and inflamed sebaceous cysts.

  Roxanne's mood suddenly darkened. "Says you. Now hurry and shoot me up. I can take it. I used to do heroin."

  The needle went in slowly; the plunger discharged the syringe's contents while, lying on her stomach, Roxanne Roeg-Elephante gritted her capped teeth and said, "Life is so unfair. I just want to have children. I need to know true motherhood."

  "How are your children from your first marriage, by the way?" the doctor asked.

  "Grown-up and calling up for money all the time. The ones who still talk to me, that is. Forget them. They don't count on account I had them with a jerk and before I was famous. I want a baby. One that doesn't talk back."

  Closing up his bag, the doctor said, "I'll leave my bill with your personal assistant."

  "Go ahead. But if those hormones don't work, I'm suing your ass for mispractice."

  "You have a nice day, too, Roxanne," the doctor said tightly, exiting the dressing room on the lot of Omniversal Studios in North Hollywood, California.

  And lying on her stomach, Roxanne Roeg-Elephante laid her apple red cheek against the pillow, muttering, "Life is so fucking unfair. I'm practically a billionaire and I can't hardly get what I want."

  "What do you want, Roxanne?" asked a strange voice coming from her mouth.

  Picking up the mirror, Roxanne began talking to it. "I dunno. But I know I ain't got it yet. What do you want, alter?"

  "Sex. Lots of it."

  "Me, too. But Studley isn't here."

  "Too bad," said the disembodied voice.

  "I wonder if a person with multiple personalities can have sex with herself?" Roxanne wondered suddenly.

  "I'm not having sex with you!"

  "Why not, alter?"

  "I'm no dyke."

  "Speak for yourself. There ain't nothing I ain't tried-or will try-if I think it will make me happy or someone I hate miserable."

  "Just keep your hands to yourself."

  "Don't worry. I wouldn't touch you with rubber gloves and a toilet plunger. You hardly ever bathe, for Christ's sake."

  REMO HESITATED when he heard the two voices on the other side of the trailer door marked with a big gold star and the name Roxanne.

  He hadn't counted on Roxanne having company. The back lot of Omniversal Studios was busy with scurrying golf carts and people in jeans and carrying walkietalkies all hurrying to someplace they weren't. No one seemed to be standing still.

  It had been surprisingly easy to gain access to the Omniversal lot. There was a guard at the gate entrance, but this was southern California. No one entered anywhere or anything on foot. They always drove.

  Remo had simply walked onto the lot. Because he wasn't encased in a car, no one noticed him. It had been that simple.

  Finding Roxanne was simple, too. The big, warehouselike soundstages were plastered with billboards proclaiming the TV shows being filmed within. Roxanne's billboard was five times larger than anyone else's. That was because it showed her entire body, which she was enormously proud of, having lost over one hundred pounds on a diet product she did commercials for. When a disgruntled ex-staffer had leaked the fact that Roxanne never used the product, the manufacturer had demanded his money back. When Roxanne had gone on "Entertainment Tonight" to complain that the product tasted like talcum powder mixed in sour milk, the sponsor hurriedly offered her six figures to just shut up and never mention the NutraSludge again.

  Remo found Roxanne's trailer just as easily. It wasn't quite as large as the soundstage beside it. But it was certainly more ostentatious. It reminded him of a Hindu howdah without the elephant.

  As a grip walked by, tapping his earphones as he slapped the nickel-cadmium-battery belt pack and complaining, "My radio just took a dump," Remo tried to look inconspicuous. That wasn't difficult, either. A famous director strolled by in torn jeans, making Remo look by contrast like the height of fashion.

  It was starting to look like a piece of cake. Remo just hoped that Roxanne wore a girdle. Taking another look at the big billboard, he couldn't imagine how she could live without one. Even minus a hundred pounds, she was a whale.

  The voices inside continued their argument.

  "The reason I don't bathe is you don't bathe," a whiny female voice said.

  "Well, I shower," retorted the twangy, corduroy voice that had grated on all of America's ears.

  "You stick your fat head under the tap to get your greasy hair wet, stand up and call the water running down your back a shower. That's not a shower."

  "Well, it's better than not bathing."

  Finally Remo decided to just go for it. He knocked. "Come in," the twangy Roxanne voice called out.

  "But I'm naked," the other voice squeaked.

  "So am I and I don't give a fiery fart. Come on, drag your ass in here. I ain't got all day."

  "Well, which is it?" Remo asked.

  "Get in here!"

  The other voice said nothing, so Remo figured it was reasonably safe to enter.

  When he pushed in the door, he changed his mind. Roxanne Roeg-Elephante lay on a triple-wide bed, stark naked and regarding him with vaguely belligerent eyes. "Who the frig are you?"

  Remo cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "You're wanted on the set," he told her.

  "So damn what?"

  "Well, they want to do the next scene."

  "Tell them to sit on a cactus and rotate. I'll come when I'm good and ready." And she winked broadly at Remo. "Like always."

  Not winking back, Remo asked, "Can I tell them how long you'll be?"

  Roxanne looked him up and down critically. "Uh, I dunno. How long are you good for?"

  "Good for what?"

  "You know. In the sack."

  "My contract has an unbreakable no-pachyderms clause," Remo said quickly.

  Roxanne rolled onto her side, exposing a generous breast like a boiled ham with a pimple. She grinned like a fat shark. "I've just been shot full of raging hormones."

  "Good for you."

  She batted her eyes. "You know I'm rich."

  "You're worth less than a billion. I charge two."

  "I like rough sex."

  "Why didn't you say so?" said Remo, closing the door behind him.

  Roxanne scooted around to a sitting position. "Hah! My last husband was just like you. Not as skinny, though." She took her chewing gum out of her petulant mouth, tucking it behind her left ear. "What do you like? Body slamming? Restraints? What?"

  "I'd like to squeeze your neck with both hands"

  "Oh, goody. Let's do it."

  And Remo, using one hand he promised himself he'd wash later, reached under the
gumless ear, intending to squeeze the delicate nerve there that triggered instant unconsciousness.

  He squeezed. Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut. Remo squeezed harder. Feeling around in the sweaty rolls of fat, he heard Roxanne's voice say, "This is the best sex I never had. So far. Hope it gets better."

  "It does," Remo promised, trying to find the nerve. The trouble was, he couldn't find it or make it work. "Damn that Chiun."

  "Who's Chiun?"

  "You ever been a sumo?"

  "No, but I wrestled one to a draw once. He was a wimp."

  Remo stepped back. "Look, I have a confession to make."

  Roxanne opened one disappointed eye. "What's that?"

  "I'm a huge fan."

  "Great. I get my best orgasms off people who think I'm my character."

  "Maybe you can help me," Remo said.

  "If you'll help me. I wanna have a baby."

  "I don't do that kind of favor."

  "No? So what do you want?"

  "Your girdle."

  "How'd you know I wear a freaking girdle?" Roxanne said, jerking to her feet. Every square inch of her body jounced and jiggled like Jell-O in a pink leaf sack. "Rumor."

  "Well, I ain't giving up my girdle for anything less than sperm. And that's final."

  "Damn," said Reano, looking around the trailer. A thought occured to him. "Where's your friend?"

  "What friend?"

  "The one you were talking to before I came in."

  "Oh, her. That was no friend. Just that bitch alter of mine, Rachel."

  "Alter?"

  "Yeah, like alter ego? That's what my shrink says I should call my multiple personalities. I've got thirty-six. Hey, maybe you'd like to pork one of them. Now, take Rachael. She's twelve years younger and 140 pounds lighter than me. But she's not very big in the hygiene department. If you catch my drift."

  "Do you have a timid alter?" Remo wondered.

  "Timid?"

  "You know, shy."

  "Well, there's Mandy. She's very mousy."

  "I'd like to meet Mandy. The mousy type attracts me."

  Roxanne shrugged. "Well, if you get one of us pregnant, I guess we'll all be pregnant. But I gotta warn you. Mandy is a virgin. You be gentle with her, or I'll briss you with my teeth-if you catch my drift."

  "I promise."

  And Roxanne closed her eyes. Her round face turned placid. Then, like waves rippling across the ocean, her features began to waver and change. They grew slack. A little drool trickled from one corner of her red mouth. When her eyes opened, the voice coming out was tiny. "Hello, I'm Mandy."

  "Quick," Remo said urgently. "Where's she keep her girdle?"

  "Bottom drawer. But don't tell Rox I told you!"

  "Promise," said Remo, going to the bottom drawer. He almost missed the girdle. It was made of black vinyl and went all the way up to the silver-tasseled breast cups. All it needed was a skull and crossbones painted on it and it could have adorned a pirate ship. "Thanks," said Remo, starting for the door. "Aren't you going to make love to me?"

  "Next life."

  "Rats," said Mandy in a pouty voice as Remo shut the door behind him.

  THE MASTER OF SINANJU was waiting for Remo outside the main gate on Lankershim Boulevard. "Here," said Remo.

  Wrinkling up his nose, Chiun took the girdle in two fingers. "It smells."

  "It's the girdle of the amazon queen, Roxanne. Address any complaints to her."

  "She fought desperately to retain it?"

  "Tooth and nail."

  "And you vanquished her?"

  "She was begging for mercy when I left."

  "You have done well," said Chiun, holding the girdle this way and that.

  "What are you going to do with that?"

  "The girdle of the amazons is supposed to confer great strength upon the wearer."

  "I'm not wearing that."

  "You have not the chest for it," sniffed Chiun, tossing the garment into the nearest trash receptacle. "Hey! Do you know what I went through to get that?"

  "It does not matter. You have completed another labor. That is all that matters."

  As they walked back to their hotel, the Master of Sinanju began to yawn broadly.

  Remo caught himself yawning, too.

  "You are sleepy?" Chiun inquired. "No. I'm yawning because you are."

  "You look sleepy."

  "Okay, I'm sleepy. But I'm not sleeping until we get the rite finished."

  "You must sleep to conserve your strength for the ordeal ahead," Chiun stated.

  "I've been sleeping more than I've been waking lately."

  "Your body craves sleep. We will find a suitable hotel."

  AT THE BEVERLY GARLAND hotel, Remo was looking out the window. The San Gabriel Mountains hovered in the near distance. He could see the top of the Omniversal Towers. There was a billboard there. He hadn't noticed it before.

  It was another advertisement for The Return of Muck Man.

  "Every time I see that Muck Man billboard I feel like it's staring at me," Remo said.

  "I have told you, it is your father."

  "Har-de-har-har-har," said Remo.

  "He does have your eyes."

  Remo looked closer. "They do look awfully familiar."

  Bustling up, Chiun drew the curtains shut with sudden violence, darkening the room.

  "It is time for your nap," he announced. "Hey! I was looking out that window!"

  "You may waste your time after you have completed your labors," Chiun said, going to the door. "And do not let me catch you in a Western bed."

  The door closed and Remo turned in.

  ALMOST AT ONCE he found himself in a valley dotted with flowering plum trees. Swallows alighted and took off from their branches, swooping through the warm air.

  Under one plum tree Remo saw a figure he recognized. He walked over to the bald old man seated in a lotus position. He was heavy of body with pale, unmoving eyes like stones in a face like crumpled, translucent parchment.

  "Greetings, H'si T'ang pongsa," Remo said, using the Korean honorific for a blind man.

  Master H'si T'ang looked up with unseeing eyes. They searched curiously while his flat nose sniffed the air. "Ah, Remo. Welcome."

  "Can't you see me?"

  "I was blind in life, why should it be different in the Void?"

  "Well, I just figured a person's sight would be restored to him."

  "Spoken like a true Christian." Master H'si T'ang stood up. "I am the Master who trained your Master. This means you are near the end of your Rite of Attainment. This is good, for it means the House will go on."

  "Can you help me? I need to find Kojing. He was supposed to tell me something."

  "You seek your father?"

  "Yeah. How'd you know?"

  "Ask Chiun."

  Remo blinked. "Chiun?"

  "Yes, Chiun will tell you the name of your father."

  "Chiun?"

  "Chiun," said Master H'si Tang, reaching up to pluck a ripe plum. Remo's eyes followed his frail hand as it groped. Fingers like bones coated in beeswax closed around the ripest one and plucked it.

  When Remo's eyes went back to the face of H'si Tang, he was gone. So was the plum.

  REMO BURST into the adjoining hotel room, where the Master of Sinanju sat on the narrow balcony watching the sun set.

  "I met H'si Tang."

  "How is the Venerable One?"

  "Still blind."

  "One does not need eyes in the Void."

  "I asked him about my father, and he said to ask you."

  Remo waited for the Master of Sinanju to answer. But there was only silence.

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  "What were H'si T'ang's exact words?" Chiun asked thinly.

  "Ask Chiun."

  "My father was named Chiun. Did you encounter him in the Void?"

  Remo's voice fell. All the pent-up energy in his body seemed to dissipate. "Damn," he said.

  "I have spoken to Emperor Smith,"
Chiun said. "His oracles have found another athloi for you. We will depart on the morrow."

  "I'd like to get going now."

  Coming to his feet, Chiun pivoted to face his pupil. "Then we will depart at once." And he breezed past Remo like a secretive wraith.

  Remo followed him with his eyes but said nothing.

  ON THE PLANE, Chiun was saying, "Perhaps your father is the illustrious Ted Williams."

  "I wouldn't mind that, but I know it isn't."

  "Andy Williams, then."

  "Not a chance."

  "Robin Williams."

  "No way."

  "Why not? He is fat. And you are showing signs of gaining weight."

  "My mother said my name isn't Williams. And what makes you think my father is famous?"

  "All who sire Masters of Sinanju are famous. Why should you be any different?"

  "Look, let's change the subject, shall we?" Remo suggested.

  "Tennessee Williams is another famous Williams."

  "Tennessee Wiliams is dead."

  "But his greatness lives on in you."

  "Cut it out. I'm sick of you ragging on me all the time."

  Chiun's voice suddenly grew serious. "Tell me, Remo, why is finding your father so important now? It was not like this when we first met so long ago."

  Remo looked out at the passing clouds. "I thought I had put it all behind me after I left the orphanage," he said quietly. "Until that time in Detroit when that hit man popped up using my name."

  "A name which he pilfered from the gravestone where you are not buried."

  "We know that now. But at first I thought he was my father. For a while there I liked the idea of having a father. Ever since then, I can't get the idea out of my mind."

  Chiun said nothing.

  "Mind telling me where we are going?" Remo asked suddenly.

  "You are going to Hades."

  Remo's brow clouded. "Hades is the Roman Hell, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why do our tickets say were going to Bangor, Maine?"

  "Because that is where Emperor Smith assures me Cerberus dwells." And Chiun left his seat to inspect the galley.

  "Cerberus?" Remo muttered. His mind went back to his childhood, and once again he could hear the voice of Sister Mary Margaret as if it were yesterday: Cerberus was the three-headed dog who guarded the gates to the underworld, who barred Hercules's path when he descended into the lower regions to complete one of his final labors.