"They were lying," Chiun said.
"I would have known if they were lying," Remo insisted.
A very shaky Martin emerged from the kitchen and came to the table. "I came to take away the unsatisfactory entrees." He was whimpering, yet he still managed to retain some of his condescending-waiter attitude.
"The unsatisfactory entrees are no longer here, obviously," Chiun pointed out.
Martin's eyeballs rolled in his head until they focused on two extremely valuable oil paintings adorning a place of honor on a wall behind a velvet rope. They were nineteenth-century Italian portraits, and their combined value was more than that of the restaurant itself. Their value had been much reduced, however, when the Italian duke and duchess were hit in the face with pasta Puttanesca.
Chiun took Martin's wrist and applied pressure. "Did you lie to my son?"
Martin's mouth opened and closed. He had been in pain when Remo interrogated him. Now he was in pain. "No!" he gasped like a suffocating carp.
Chiun frowned at him, then let go of the wrist. "You have cut your scalp open, careless oaf," Chiun told the man. "If you bleed on my fish, I'll throttle you with it."
Martin gulped. "Very good, sir."
Remo wasn't paying attention. "I'm sick of this tiptoeing around," he announced. "I think we should go see the president after dinner."
"Emperor Smith will be displeased."
"Smitty can stuff it."
"Good!"
"Good?" Remo asked. "Why good?"
"I have thought all along we should go interrogate the whelp, despite Emperor Smith's dictates."
"So why didn't you say so?" Remo asked.
"I was waiting for you to make the decision. Now, if it becomes a political brew-a-ha-ha it will be your responsibility, not mine."
"If he's the guilty guy it won't matter," Remo said.
Chapter 37
Dawn Summens was experiencing hell.
Greg Grom wasted no time in creating a repeat performance of the role-playing she had witnessed the night before. Only this time, instead of Amelia standing in as Dawn Summens, he had the real Dawn Summens to play with.
She had underestimated Greg Grom. The depths of his sadism and bitterness were far beyond what she had ever imagined. In the main bedroom of the presidential beach house, with Amelia Powlik cheering on the sidelines, Greg Grom took out months of pent-up anger and frustration on his minister of tourism in the most humiliating and painful methods he could engineer.
He suggested that she beg for more. She begged for more.
Her mouth made the words and her body acquiesced to his abuse, but inside she was fighting with every ounce of will. Some niggling sense told her that the chemical hold on her was weakening. Maybe her precautions had been somewhat effective. Maybe with a little more time...
Maybe it was just wishful thinking.
Greg Grom halted his entertainment and left her battered and bruised on the bed. He dressed, taking several plastic vials from the bedside table.
"I'm off! There are breakfast buffets to be spiced up!" So he had enough supply of the good new GUTX synthesis to start dosing the tourists again. There was nothing to stop him now.
"We'll be waiting!" Amelia Powlik giggled.
"Amelia, feel free to entertain yourself while I'm gone."
"Thanks, Mr. President!"
"Just don't do any severe damage to the poor creature. That's my job."
"NOW IT'S JUST You and me!" Amelia Powlik exclaimed with a bark of joy. "Here, have a drink." Dawn Summons, her head half-hanging over the edge of the bed, saw a bottle of tequila thrust in front of her. She hated tequila. But she took it and brought it to her lips.
"Take a nice big swig," Amelia said.
Dawn put it to her lips and then concentrated, with all her mental energies, on the act of closing her lips. As she upended the bottle, her lips did close. She felt the tequila burning against her mouth, but only a trickle got inside.
"That's right, honey!" Amelia said. "That'll get you going!"
Dawn sat up and held the bottle out to Amelia.
"No, you go ahead and take another."
"Yes, Amelia," Dawn said, and she pretended to take another big swig. Hope flared up inside of her-she was fighting it! She was disobeying!
Was she ready to take it to the next level, to try something really rebellious?
"We're gonna have fun while the prez is out on the town!" Amelia said. "Well, I'm gonna have fun. What'll we do for starters?"
"How about this?" Dawn asked as she held the tequila bottle by the neck and brought it down hard on Amelia Powlik's skull.
The bottle broke. Amelia grunted and staggered and sputtered to get the glass pieces and alcohol out of her mouth. She grabbed her eyes but forced glass splinters into her flesh. When she tried to blink her eyes open, the tequila burned her eyeballs.
Dawn gave Amelia a shove. Amelia staggered across the room. Another shove sent her onto the balcony. When Amelia's hip collided with the iron railing, she knew what was in store for her and she forced her eyes open. They were bloodred and burning. She managed to hold them open just long enough to see Dawn Summens coming at her again. Amelia tried to slap Dawn away and failed. Dawn grabbed her by the shins and lifted.
Amelia, with a bark of fear, flipped off the balcony and thumped against the beach twelve feet below. Something snapped. It was her ankle. Despite the agony, she began a miserable turtle crawl.
"I found another bottle of tequila, Amelia," Dawn called down. Amelia felt the liquid spattering on her back and buttocks.
"How about we heat this party up?" Summens asked. Amelia once again forced her eyes open. Dawn was on the balcony with a tubular box of fireplace matches. She lit one and sent the slender flaming stick arching off the balcony. It landed in the sand and went out.
"Oops. Better try that again," Summens said. Amelia whimpered. She watched another match arc through the air and land in the sand just a foot from her body. She tried to crawl away, backward, but her body was shaking and her leg was limp. The third match was on target. Amelia tried to dodge, but she simply could not move fast enough.
Then there was fire, a stench and contortions of agony.
IT DIDN'T LAST long enough, but burning Amelia Powlik was the most deeply satisfying thing Dawn Summens had ever done in her life. She even enjoyed the aroma. "Smells like victory!" she told the steaming human ruin happily.