"We also have an opportunity to acquire the technology that is sweeping the globe," the President added.
"Do we know what it is?"
"I know what it is," the President said forcefully.
"Please share it with us, Mr. President," the secretary of defense said.
"Sorry. It's classified."
"From us?"
"That's the way it has to be. Now we can acquire this technology, but it's going to cost us."
"I think we should pay any price. Don't you agree?"
"Absolutely. Once we have one of these things, we have parity with other nations. We have to have parity. It's imperative."
Everyone agreed parity was imperative even if they didn't know what the secret weapon under discussion actually was.
"We're going to have to buy it," said the President.
"Fine."
"Once we have it, the mere possession of this weapon will effectively render the secret weapons in other hands absolutely impotent."
"It's that powerful?"
"It's that powerful," the President said in a steely voice. "But it's going to be an expensive acquisition."
The secretary of the Navy pounded his fist on the table and said, "Weil pay any price, endure any sacrifice."
And the President smiled coolly. "I'm glad you gentlemen said that, because you're all going to have to pony up if we are to acquire the Sinanju Scorpion."
"Er—how much we talking about here? In round numbers?"
The President named a figure.
The secretary of defense was indignant. His face turned bright red. "Defense can't afford that!"
"The defense of the United States can't afford to let this opportunity go sailing past us, never to return," answered the President.
The JCS swallowed hard, their Adam's apples bobbing dissynchronously.
"Well, we can scratch that next batch of submarines," the secretary of the Navy muttered.
"We can close a few more bases," said the Air Force chief of staff.
"I never did like the Osprey," said the commandant of the Marines. "Damn thing flew like a one-winged pelican."
"It's for the good of the country," the President assured them all.
"It's a mighty big hit," complained the secretary of Defense, crunching the numbers on a notepad.
When the meeting was over, the combined Joint Chiefs of Staff had agreed to divert a significant percentage of their next year's budgets to a bank account in the Cayman Islands.
When it was done, the JCS chair asked, "When do we take delivery?"
"We don't. I do."
"But we have to analyze it. Break it down. Do reverse engineering and mass replicate it."
"Won't work. I'm going to take possession and keep it in reserve."
"What about command and control? What about the chain of command?"
They tried every argument including a constitutional one, but the Chief Executive stubbornly refused to budge.
"When the money's in the vault, America will be safe and secure once again," he promised.
As he rose to leave the Situation Room, the JCS chair had only one last question. "Just tell us this—is it nuclear, chemical or biological?"
The president smiled. "Biological. Definitely biological."
Chapter Forty-eight
It was the next day that the Master of Sinanju began to unpack the things he had packed in anticipation of leaving America forever. His apprentice, the next Reigning Master of Sinanju if he performed correctly in all his duties, prepared duck and the short-grained rice favored in the northern mountains of Korea.
When the food was served, the Master took his seat at the low taboret and, sampling everything once, pronounced it good.
His pupil smiled.
"All has turned out as it should," Chiun said.
"I think so, too," said Remo.
"There is only one thing more."
"What's that?"
"I have not told you the story of the stonecutter."
And the Master was pleased to see his pupil lay down his rice bowl and silver chopsticks and sit up attentively despite his prodigiously embarrassing appetite for food.
"There lived in old Chosun in the days of Prince Chu Tsu a simple stonecutter," he began. "Every day of his life he cut obdurate stone into blocks that other men purchased. His toil was long and arduous, and as the years of his life passed he grew to despise his miserable lot.
"Now, the toil of this stonecutter was difficult and produced only rude stone blocks, from which other more skilled artisans erected buildings and statuary and other fine things. His chisel made marks in the stone of Diamond Mountain, but the stonecutter made no mark upon the world.