Summens knew she had been told the secret of the prisoners only because Grom was desperate. He didn't know what to do. He had hoped she would have a solution. But she had nothing to offer. She wasn't helpful, and now Grom saw her as expendable.
Next Grom asked her to try getting close to the U.S. agents. That pair had to be dealt with, one way or another. Obviously, Grom had other plans he wasn't telling her about. He had tried to have this Remo Hale Jr. killed by these crazed women. Dawn knew that she was supposed to die, as well.
She grabbed the phone from her beach bag and called the island police, then forced a smile, determined to downplay the event. "The police will come and give your admirers a good talking to," she said to Remo. "You really should use more sensitivity when you reject amorous women."
Remo picked up the curved machete. "Now, where do you suppose...?"
"Beach bar," Dawn said, nodding at the thatched hut a hundred yards down. "They use it to chop the tops off coconuts. It wows the tourists."
Remo Williams snapped the blade off of the hilt and tossed the pieces away. "Bloody tourists," he muttered.
Chapter 32
Greg Grom watched his secretary, Amelia Powlik, relaxing out on the deck of the presidential beach house. He smiled.
It all added up. Everything made sense. He knew what to do.
The synthesized GUTX, batch 42CD, was the batch-the Grail batch. The formula that worked. Amelia Powlik was living proof.
He had given her a dose that was tiny, just micrograms. But it was enough to work. Amelia was completely under his control. No uncontrolled fits of violence, no regression into a mute, zombielike state, nothing except a perfect adherence to his suggestion.
The synthesized GUTX samples had come in sealed containers of one kilogram each. Diluted for optimal dosage, Grom had enough to dose hundreds of people. And he would order more from the lab. He'd do it today.
He had some problems. That pair of bizarre federal agents who were hounding him. Dawn Summens was getting suspicious. He'd take care of both those problems today. Maybe they were already taken care of. He had made some arrangements with the bartender at the hotel where Dawn was making her move on the agents. Grom honestly wasn't sure if he wanted Dawn to survive that encounter or not.
Then he remembered his night with Amelia. It had been fun pretending she was Dawn. It would be more fun with the real Dawn. Well, even if she did survive the beach brawl, she would no longer be a problem. Dinner would see to that.
GUTX-42CD was on the menu.
"IS THAT YOUR BIRD?" asked the black woman in the lightweight but formal-looking jacket. The pocket was embroidered with the words Manager Selena Teller.
"Certainly not," Chiun answered. "It is an impolite, arrogant brute of a bird."
"You seem to enjoy talking to him," she said. "You've been standing here for half an hour."
"You must understand," Chiun said. "I am alone most of the time."
"I thought you came here with your son?" Ms. Teller said, her voice softening.
"Yes, and now he is off somewhere without me. Seeing the sights, I suppose, while I am reduced to sitting in the room watching television, which I despise, or sharing my thoughts with a hideous chicken."
"Stuff it, slant eyes," the parrot squawked.
"And he is not the best company," Chiun concluded, his head drooping sadly.
"Full of it! Full of it!" the bird clucked.
"The thing is, the bird has never even talked to anybody else. We've all tried, ever since it showed up a few days ago. My assistant said it is a hyacinth macaw, worth maybe five thousand dollars. The way it took to you I thought maybe it was yours."
"I think it simply recognizes a figure worthy of its respect."
The bird blew a loud raspberry and made droppings. "Well," the manager said, "let me know if it says anything that might be a clue to whoever owns it." Ms. Teller left them alone.
Chiun looked down his nose at the big blue bird. The sun was no longer shining directly into the lobby and the plumage had a purplish glow to it.
"You," Chiun announced, "are the color of something horrible that has been eaten and then regurgitated." The bird glared at him.
"Heh heh heh."
The bird turned its back to him. "Heh heh heh."
Chiun crossed the lobby and waited for Remo, who was coming up the quarry tile sidewalk. The ancient Korean in the bright robes attracted stares from the vacationers in their resort wear. He ignored them all.
"You smell of cow!" Chiun said by way of greeting. "Oh, Remo, has your uncontrollable lust for bovine flesh finally overcome your self-control?"
"You mean, did I eat a steak?"
"It was inevitable. You are a beef addict. The lure of cattle flesh was bound to overcome your meager self-discipline."
"I'm not a beef addict," Remo responded. "I haven't had a burger in decades. What's with the staff?"
The hotel manager was nodding meaningfully at Remo and Chiun. The other clerks glared at Remo and/or cast sympathetic glances at Chiun.
"You've been telling the story about the lonely old man and his negligent son, haven't you?" Remo demanded.
"Don't change the subject. Did you eat a cow?"
"Of course not. I had a lunch date and she ate a cow. Some cow. A steak."
As they walked by the bird display, the hyacinth macaw bobbed its head in greeting.
"Hi, bird," Remo said.
"Hello."
"Shall I tell you what I told the bird?" Chiun said. "Heh heh heh."
The macaw turned its back on them.
"Glad to see somebody here likes me instead of you," Remo said. "Okay, tell me."
Chiun repeated his regurgitation insult, then laughed uproariously-as uproariously as he ever laughed. "Heh heh heh."
"You need to get out more often, Chiun," Remo said. "It's not even really an ugly bird:"
"I have seen more attractive vultures," Chiun said dismissively.