"Oh, do not be ridiculous," Chiun snapped.
"You got a better explanation?" Remo retorted.
"It was like he was made of smoke," Robin said in a stunned voice.
"Hah!" exclaimed Chiun. "Then there is truth behind those inscrutable words, blue smoke and mirrors. Now, where are the mirrors? I see no mirrors. Or string."
Remo put the receiver to his ear experimentally. There was a great deal of static, but through it he heard a voice. A Russian voice. It was saying, "Oh, no, not again! Brashnikov, you idiot!"
Then the Russian voice screamed and Remo heard a flurry of frantic shouting and activity.
Seeing Remo's absurd expression, Chiun demanded, "What is it? What do you hear?"
"Russians. I think the Krahseevah's in the line somewhere."
"He will not escape us so easily," Chiun declared,
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leaping to the baseboard. He began pulling the telephone wire free like string from soft butter.
"No, Chiun," Remo said, stopping him. "Hold up. We've got an open line here, let's not lose it." He handed Chiun the receiver. "Here, you keep listening."
Remo plunged into the next room, got an outside line, and called Dr. Harold W. Smith.
Smith's answer was sleepy.
"Remo. What is it?"
"Can you trace a line for us?"
"Yes, of course. One moment, I'm speaking from my briefcase phone. Let me take it to the next room, where I won't wake my wife."
A moment later, the sound of Smith keying his portable briefcase computer came to Remo's ears. Swiftly Remo gave him the hotel name and the room number the Krahseevah had used.
"It's the Soviet embassy again," Smith told him after a long silence.
"Well, I've got good news and bad news for you, then."
"What's the bad?"
"The Krahseevah got away from us again. And I know how freaky this is going to sound, but you'll have to take it on faith. He got away through the phone system."
"We must have a bad connection, Remo. I thought you just said-"
"I did," Remo said, cutting him off. "He was holding an open line, turned on the suit, and he was gone like a milkshake through a drinking straw. Into the receiver."
There was a long silence over the line. It hissed.
"There is no way you could have been deceived?" Smith demanded at last. "No chance of trickery or optical illusion?"
"No. I saw it. Chiun saw it. And Robin saw it."
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"Robin Green?" Smith's voice was sharp. "How did she get there?"
"Good question. I forgot to ask. Anyway, I think we'd better go after the embassy people."
"No. Emphatically, no. You said something about good news."
"Oh, yeah. The Krahseevah didn't have the tiles with him when he got sucked away. I don't know where they are, but he didn't have them."
"They are in the mail," Chiun called from the next room.
"Smitty, Chiun just said they're in the mail." Remo listened a moment. He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Hey, Chiun. Smith wants to know if you addressed them to him."
"No. I simply put them in a postal box."
"Oh. Hear that, Smitty? . . . Sure, I'll get them back. So what do we do now?"
"Return to Folcroft," Smith said after a pause. "We are facing incredible technology and we must stop it now."
"Okay. We'll ditch Robin somehow."
"No. Bring her. But make certain she sees nothing that will provide her with a trail back to CURE."
"Gotcha," Remo said, hanging up.
The first thing Robin Green said to Remo when he returned to the other room was, "Who is Smith?"
"Look," Remo said, raising his hands. "Do us both a big favor. Pretend you never heard the name Smith. Okay?"
"Not okay. I asked you a direct question. Who is Smith and what does he have to do with you two?"
"Listen, I'm telling you that you'll be a lot better off if you don't know. Just, please, don't mention his name to his face, okay?"
"To his face? Is he coming here?"
"No, we're going to see him."
"I'm not going anywhere without some answers first."
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"Sorry," Remo said, edging closer. "I have my orders."