"Smith, I have just seen your special person on television."
"You have?" For once, the usually unflappable Smith sounded perturbed. That did nothing to reassure the President.
"I did. On a news clip out of Abominadad. According to the report, he has gone over to their side."
"Ridiculous," Smith said instantly.
"Maddas is saying that every pro-Kuran world leader had better watch out. He's Irait's assassin now."
"Sir, I cannot believe-"
"Tell me this, Smith. If he has gone over to the enemy, am I safe?"
"Mr. President," Harold Smith said truthfully, "if Remo has become a tool of Maddas Hinsein, none of us are safe. He could remove you from office while you sleep and no one could stop him."
"I see. What do you recommend?"
"Go to an unknown location. Remain there. Do not tell me where it is. I have to assume I am at risk as well. And I could be made to talk if Remo was bent on extracting information from me."
"Good thinking. What else?"
"If I can verify this report, you have no choice but to order the organization shut down. If Remo has gone over, all knowledge of CURE and our working relationship is at Maddas Hinsein's disposal. He could make it public. All evidence must be eradicated."
"Shut you down, Smith?" the President said, aghast. "You're my only hope of surviving this thing. You know this man. How he works. What his weak points are. How to reason with him."
"Let me look into this, Mr. President. Please stand by."
The line disconnected abruptly.
The next ten minutes were among the longest of the President's life. No post-midnight waiting for election returns had ever dragged by with such heart-stopping slowness. Presently the red telephone rang.
"Yes," the President croaked.
Smith's voice was grave, with the suggestion of a quaver in it. "Mr. President, I have seen a replay of the CNN report with my own eyes. It is my inescapable conclusion that this is no hoax or ploy. Remo has defected. I can only suspect the reasons. But for the sake of your own political survival, CURE must cease."
"My political survival be damned!" the President retorted. "It's my skin I have to worry about first. And the nation's survival. I want you ready to advise me. There must be some countermeasure to this guy."
"The only countermeasure I am aware of, Mr. President," Harold W. Smith said slowly, "died several weeks ago. I see no good options."
"Stay by the phone, Smith," the President ordered tightly. "I will be in touch."
Chapter 34
"So," President Maddas Hinsein said, after the video crew withdrew from his office, "this is the assassin who has committed murder all over my fine nation."
"He does not understand Arabic," Kimberly Baynes said.
Both of them were looking at Remo Williams.
Remo was looking at Kimberly Baynes with a mixture of desire and fear in his deep eyes.
Kimberly wore the abayuh, her face was uncovered, her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. As she hovered near him, her hidden arms fluttered and disturbed the long lines of the abayuh with spidery grace. She had kept them hidden while the crew filmed Remo on display, and only removed her veil after they had gone.
"His eyes," Maddas told Kimberly. "I do not like the way he looks at you."
"He desires me with his body, but despises me with his mind," Kimberly said laughingly.
"He is too dangerous. He must die." Maddas reached for his revolver.
"No," Kimberly said quickly, one yellow-nailed hand intercepting Maddas' gun hand. "We have a use for him."
"What value can one man possibly have? Soon the Americans will know their finest assassin is under my control. That is all that is neccesary."
"You do not understand, Scimitar of the Arabs, this man is more powerful than your greatest division. He is the incarnation of the Destroyer, and in this form he will do anything I tell him to. Including eradicating the Hamidi Arabian royal family."
Maddas blinked.
"Would that not be fitting, O Precious Leader?" Kimberly said mockingly. "This man destroyed your family."
"And did me a tremendous favor," Maddas said quickly. "They were beasts, especially my wife's brothers. I am better off without them. And with you."
Kimberly smiled her blond smile.
"What does that matter?" she pressed. "Your generals know you have lost face. You must restore it. Why not loose this man upon your enemies, the Hamidis?"
"Because of all the forces arrayed on my southern border," Maddas Hinsein said truthfully, "only the Kurani Emir and the thrice-damned Hamidi itch for my skin. The Americans need provocation. The rest of the world follows their lead. But the Hamidis know that I covet their wealth and oil refineries. They know American staying power is limited." He shook his fleshy head slowly. "No, if I strike the Hamidi royal family, they will attack in turn. All of them will attack."
"So, you are a coward, after all."
Maddas flinched. "No Iraiti could call me that name and not be chopped into shish kebab," he flared.
"No Iraiti understands Maddas Hinsein as I do," Kimberly said. "If I disappear, there is no one strong enough to attend to your special . . . needs."
Maddas' dark features tightened in concentration.
And one hidden hand slipped from a slit in the black abayuh and roughly pinched Maddas Hinsein on the backside. He gave a little jump.
"Do not do that in front of the prisoner," he hissed, rubbing himself.
"Think of him as a tool. Just as I think the same of you."
Maddas Hinsein cocked a thumb at his broad chest. "I am the destined uniter of the Arabs."
Kimberly smiled. "And I am the only one who makes you purr. Your gas attack has failed. There has been no counterstrike. You are safe to strike again. This time in secret. Send this assassin to kill the one most dear to the sheik. It is a humilation he deserves."
"Agreed. But it will bring war down on my head. Is that what you want?"