"No. I may be a service brat, but I didn't exactly grow up in one of these things."
" 'Brat' is the word," Chiun sniffed.
"Another piece of Smith's handiwork," Remo said, picking up the receiver. "No matter which number you dial"-he demonstrated by hitting several keys at random-"it's programmed to ring only one phone in the entire world. A special one on Smith's desk."
"Oh, he has a desk, does he?" Robin said sarcastically. "And here I thought he lived in a padded room with all the other lunatics who think they're Napoleon. Don't think I missed Charlie Chan here calling him emperor. Or you calling him Little Father. I must have been crazy to try to work with you two. No, I take that back. I must be the only sane one around here. Just give me that."
Robin took the receiver. Brushing away a bit of hair, she put it to her ear.
"I don't hear anything," she said.
"That's good," Remo said. "It means Smith disconnected the phone at the other end."
Robin blinked as the significance of Remo's words penetrated.
"Disconnected?"
"Yep," Remo said with a self-satisfied grin.
"So where's the Krahseevah?'' Robin asked uncertainly.
"Got me," Remo said casually, hanging up the phone. "But he didn't come out on Smith's end. He didn't come back. My guess is that he's somewhere in the coils of Ma Bell. You know, I once saw a commercial that claimed there are billions and billions of miles of cable in our telephone system. I think our Krahseevah's in for a long, long roller-coaster ride."
"And just to make certain . . ." Chiun said, stepping up to the phone. He took the device in one hand and began squeezing. The edges of the phone wavered and
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collapsed. Tiny jets of smoke spurted from the rupturing seams.
When the Master of Sinanju extracted the phone from the wall, it was a blob of plastic. He slapped it into Robin Green's hands. She said "Ouch!" and tossed it from hand to hand like a hot potato.
"What's the idea?"
"A souvenir," Chiun told her. "For your grandchildren."
"I don't have any grandchildren. Hell, I don't even have children."
"Ah, but you will," Chiun said, indicating her cleavage, which strained at her remaining buttons. "For you carry your destiny proudly before you."
Robin turned to Remo. "Is that Korean for 'barefoot and pregnant'?" she asked.
"He's teasing you again," Remo assured her.
"How about it, buster?" Robin asked Chiun. "Are you pulling my leg?"
"No. I leave the pulling of your legs to the future father of your children." Chiun bowed. "May you bear many squalling infants," he intoned.
"Well, that's it," Remo said quickly, edging for the door.
"That's it?" Robin said shakily.
"What else is there? We bagged him."
"It is not as good as a bird in the hand," Chiun told Robin solemnly. "But neither is it two in the bush."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Chiun shrugged. "I thought you would know. You who are so fond of sayings concerning birds."
"Is he kidding me? He is kidding, isn't he?"
"Don't worry about it," Remo told her. "We gotta go now. Been nice working with you."
Robin blocked his way. "Go! You just hold your horses. What about me? I got you onto this base. You can't leave me hanging out to dry. For a third time."
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Remo picked Robin up bodily and set her aside like a coat rack.
"You won't be," he said. "And you didn't help get us onto the base. We only let you think that. Once you baited the trap, you were just window dressing."
"But what about me? What about my career?" Robin demanded, following them out of the bunker.
"Everything's been taken care of. Don't sweat it."
"Taken care of-by whom?"
"Smith, of course. He's fixed your files. You're not AWOL, and all is forgiven. In fact, there's a pretty good chance that you're going to be offered an Air Force commission. But there's a catch. You can't mention me or Chiun or Smith in your report. Otherwise not only will there be no commission, but your goose- if you'll pardon the expression-will be cooked."
"What! That's impossible. You're lying to me again. Smith couldn't possibly do all that. He's a civilian. Even my father couldn't pull that many strings."
"Hey, don't thank us. We're just doing our job."
"If you're lying to me," Robin shouted after them, "I won't let you get away with this. Do you hear me?"
"Do I hear her?" Remo muttered as they hurried away. "Smith can probably hear her clear down to Folcroft."
"True," Chiun said. "She has an amazing set of lungs-for a woman."
"Oh, really." Remo smiled. "And how, exactly, do you mean that, Little Father?"
"In the spirit it is intended, of course."
"Of course."
A week later, Remo was in his kitchen boiling rice. A familiar knock sounded at the back door, and before Remo could say, "Come in," Harold W. Smith did.