"South Sea Dreams in the back," the young man said. "Never given up a game yet."
Remo walked with Chiun to the back and showed him how to insert the money and explained the purpose of the game. Chiun seemed offended that one did not win cash prizes.
Two young men in black leather jackets smirked at each other when they heard Chiun talk. They were playing the machine next to his.
Remo told them: "This gentleman's going to play this machine. Save yourself a lot of trouble and leave him alone."
"Yeah? Who says so?"
"Pal, I'm just trying to save you grief. Leave him alone."
"Yeah. Who says so?"
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Remo sighed. "Have it your own way."
There was a telephone booth outside the arcade which vandals had not yet turned into a public urinal, and Remo called Smith's nighttime number. Smith answered the telephone on the first ring.
"What's the latest on Lippincott?" asked Remo.
"Holding steady. But no one can find out what's wrong," Smith said.
"Chiun says it's some kind of poison," said Remo.
"They can't find any foreign substances in his blood," Smith said.
"If Chiun says it's poison, it's poison."
"Have you found out anything?" Smith asked.
"Nothing really," Remo said. "Oh, two guys tried to kill us on the street."
"Who are they?"
"Were," said Remo. "I don't know. They didn't have IDs. But, Smitty, . . ."
"Yes?"
"They were wearing hospital clothes. I'm thinking there's some kind of medical tie-in with this thing. Can you run that through the computers?"
"I'll check it out," Smith said.
Remo looked through the window of the arcade. The two young men with leather jackets and greasy fifties' hair were standing on either side of Chiun, talking to each other across the machine. Chiun seemed not to pay attention. Remo shook his head and turned away. He didn't want to watch.
"Any word from Ruby?" asked Remo.
"None yet."
"Good," said Remo. "When she calls in, tell her we'll have this whole thing cleaned up before she even figures out what it's about. Tell her I said so."
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"You sure you want me to say that?" asked Smith.
"Yeah," said Remo. "Well . . . maybe not. I'll call you tomorrow."
When he went back inside, the two youths in leather jackets were standing on tiptoe on either side of Chiun, straining upward. Remo saw why. Chiun had them by the index fingers and was using their fingers to operate the flippers of the pinball machines.
"I warned you," he said to the two as he approached.
"Make him let us go," one squealed.
"Let them go, Chiun," said Remo.
"Not until this game is done," said Chiun. "They graciously volunteered to show me how it is played."
"I'll bet they did. What ball are you on?" Remo asked.
"I am playing my first ball," Chiun said.
"Still?" asked Remo.
"It is perfectly good," said Chiun. "I see no reason to use another ball."
And because Remo knew that it might be days before Chiun used all five balls of the game, he pressed his hip against the pinball machine and then hit it sideways.
The machine's scoring lights went out. The "Tilt"
sign lit up.
"What happened?" said Chiun.
"The machine tilted," Remo said.
Chiun pressed the two young men's fingers against the flipper buttons. The flippers did not work.
"What is this tilt?" he asked.
"That means the game's over," said Remo.
"How did that happen?" asked Chiun.
"Sometimes it just happens," Remo said.
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