He crossed to his desk. The minister was just sinking into his seat when the door popped open again. When he looked up, the door was closing gently once more.
Remo Williams stood before the East African defense minister, a thin smile on his cruel features. He wore a clean set of clothes.
"Remo?" Deferens said, masking his surprise. "I was not informed you were on your way up." He looked beyond his guest, to the door he was certain he'd locked.
Remo seemed to enjoy the minister's thin discomfort. "Didn't check in at the front desk," he explained. As he crossed the room, his feet made not a sound.
"I see." Deferens sat up more straightly. He placed his secretary's note carefully on his desk. He was getting a strange sensation from this man-something Deferens himself had been accused of giving everyone all his life. An icy chill ran up his rigid spine.
"I trust Batubizee is dead," he ventured.
Remo shook his head as he sat on the edge of the desk. "You're too trusting," he said. "Now me, on the other hand? The only thing I trust in is man's limitless capacity to be a two-timing asshole to his fellow man. So far, Elvis, I haven't been disappointed."
A cloud crossed the defense minister's face. "What is the meaning of this disrespect, Remo?" he asked, feeling the first stirrings of fear in his chest. "I hired you because you led me to believe you were competent. Now you break into my office-yes, break-and tell me that Batubizee is still alive. On top of that, your rudeness is inexcusable. Get off my desk," he ordered.
Remo didn't move.
"Gee, I hope I don't have to give up my job as East Africa's official assassin," Remo mused. "I already ordered the stationery. Course, I could always get a job as a sewer worker. You gotta watch your step down there, though, what with all the alligators and thermonuclear warheads people flush these days. But I hear the benefits are good."
When the grin broke full on Remo's face, Deferens was already diving in his desk drawer. A delicate hand wrapped around the butt of an automatic.
The gun turned to brittle ice, shattering into a hundred metal shards. When he looked up, Remo stood above him. Panic spread wide across Deferens's face.
He grabbed for the phone. It seemed to explode on contact with his flesh. Shards of black plastic scattered across his spotless desk surface. When he tried to bolt from the room, a strong hand pressed against his chest.
Coaxing the East African official back into his well-oiled chair, Remo leaned against the edge of the desk.
"Okay, all the nukes weren't dismantled when they were supposed to be," Remo ventured. "That's pretty clear. So I'm guessing you and Mandobar planted one of them beneath the city for what, blackmail? Because if it's just to unclog some backed-up pipes, you're really overcompensating." Deferens stiffened in his chair. Screwing his mouth tightly shut, he stared defiantly at the wall.
His defiance lasted only until the pain began. Remo pressed but two fingers into his shoulder. To Deferens, it was as if someone were pouring molten metal into the joint. He gasped in pain. "No," he breathed. The pain was too great for him to shout. "I brokered a deal with Camorra to destroy Bachsburg. Mandobar doesn't know." Remo eased back the pressure, a puzzled look on his face. "Isn't Camorra that big turtle that's always trashing Tokyo? Shoots fire from his ass?" Deferens shook his head. His green eyes watered. "It is a rival of the Mafia. Based in Naples, not Sicily."
"Never heard of them," Remo said.
"Few have in this century," Deferens said. "That is why they wished to destroy Bachsburg. World crime will be crippled at midnight tonight when the bombs go off. Afterward, Camorra will dominate the global scene."
"And you swear Mandobar doesn't know?"
"No," Deferens insisted. "The plan is the result of lengthy negotiations between myself and Don Vincenzo."
Remo's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Elvis wouldn't lie to me?" he cautioned.
The pain was excruciating. "No!" Deferens gasped.
He was telling the truth. When Remo's hand retreated to his side, there was a thoughtful look on his face.
In his seat, Deferens rubbed at his aching shoulder.
"I suppose you're some sort of American agent," he snarled.
Remo shook his head. "Actually, I consider myself more of a conscientious world citizen," he replied. "Aside from me and Ted Turner, we're a dying breed."
The pain was rapidly becoming a distant memory. Already the gears were turning as Deferens tried to figure a way out of this. If he could just get Remo outside, he could signal the guards. Yet, he realized, Remo had apparently gotten in here without anyone seeing him.
"I suppose you wish to deactivate the bombs," Deferens suggested.
"Bombs?" Remo asked. "There's more than one?"
Deferens nodded. "And since I am the only person who knows the precise location of all of them, I will have to lead you to them. If you will allow me to summon my driver, we may begin deactivating them."
When he called his bodyguard driver, a prearranged signal would flood the office with palace guards.
Deferens stood. Remo shoved him back in his chair.
"Gimme a minute," Remo said. "I'm thinking." In his entire life, the defense minister of East Africa had not once perspired. But as Remo stared off into space above him, the first prickly hint of a rash began to form beneath Deferens's white shirt collar.
The East African dropped his voice low. "Remo, I can see you are having difficulty with this," he said. "Perhaps I can make things easier. I will double your retainer if you come to work exclusively for me. One million dollars per year." His eyes were crafty.
That got Remo's attention. He glanced down at the defense minister. "Three million," he countered.
A hopeful smile twitched the corners of Deferens's lips. "Done," he nodded.
"Too quick," Remo said. "I want six million. In gold. Up front."
The smile tightened to a flat line. "That would be more difficult," Deferens said.
"Nonnegotiable," Remo insisted. "I know you've got it, and I'm sick of being yanked by everyone all the time. Six million in gold or no dice."
Deferens considered deeply. His Camorra position in East African after the destruction of Bachsburg would net him much, much more than that. And given the abilities he had displayed, Remo would make a powerful ally when Deferens made his inevitable move against Don Vincenzo.
At last, the minister nodded. "Agreed," he said crisply.
Remo snuled tightly. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just wanted to prove I wasn't as big a schlemiel at negotiating as some people think. Besides, you look like an even bigger fusspot than the guy I work for now." He hopped down from the desk.
Deferens recoiled. The back of his chair struck the wall. When Remo reached out a thick-wristed hand, Deferens shrank fearfully.
"Think this through, Remo," he warned, sweat trickling down his back. "There is no way to deactivate all the bombs without my help."
And Remo's smile was as icy cold as Deferens's own black heart. "Who said I wanted to deactivate them?" he asked.
Deferens didn't have time to consider Remo's surprising words. Before he even knew what was happening, Remo had reached out and tapped a spot in the perfect center of L. Vas Deferens's pale white forehead.
For the shocked East African defense minister, all thoughts of his bombs or this madman in his midst dissolved in an instant. The entire world of L. Vas Deferens collapsed into a single bright white dot that vanished into a sea of inky blackness.
Chapter 25
Chiun sat in a lotus position on the floor of Chief Batubizee's hut, the hems of his pale orchid kimono tucked neatly around his bony knees. The steamer trunks he had brought from Castle Sinanju were stacked against one wall, a colorful contrast to the washed-out surroundings.