"None other."
"Hah. Where is the joy? The love? The wisdom? The true inner beauty?"
"Shhhh, I'm reading. This general says we're probably assassins for some secret organization. The paper says it's the CIA."
"Well, see, there is some good to be found in everything. Even though that picture looks nothing like me, it is good that Sinanju is at last getting some recognition."
"That ninny general held a press conference to talk about this."
"A press conference." Chiun mused a moment. "It is a good idea. Think of the work we could get, Remo, if others knew more of us and our availability."
"Yeah, but this general blamed Kaufmann's death on us."
"Who?" said Chiun.
"Kaufmann. The guy at the Army post."
"But he was killed by gun shots."
"Right," said Remo.
"Don't they know that we would not use bullets?" Chiun's voice explored the depths of outrage.
"Guess not."
"That is a terrible thing that general did," said Chiun. "Some may see this and believe it."
Remo and Chiun walked up the steps leading to the street on the other side of the subway platform.
"This makes things tough," Remo said.
"When things get tough, the tough get things."
"What?" said Remo, folding up the paper.
"It is something like that. I heard your president say it. 'When things get tough, the tough get things.'"
"Yeah. Well, we've got a problem. Those pictures in the paper. Exposure by that nit general. We're going to have a goddam posse of bounty hunters after us next."
"Do not worry. No one will recognize me. Not from that drawing, which is not at all like me."
"And me?" asked Remo.
"You have no problem either," said Chiun.
"No? Why not?"
"All you whites look alike. Who can tell you from anybody else?"
CHAPTER TEN
"You're doing wonderfully, Smitty. Have you ever thought of taking an early retirement?"
"Now, Remo…"
" 'Now, Remo,' my ass. Yesterday, the Justice Department sent out a bulletin on us. Now, the general. All night we've been on television and in the papers. When do you have us booked for 'The David Susskind Show'? Why are you telling me not to worry? What the hell's gotten into you?"
"The pictures don't look anything like you," said Smith. "And frankly, I misjudged. I didn't think that General Haupt would fight back."
"Well, I've got news for you. General Haupt has brought great unhappiness into my life. I'm going to bring some unhappiness into his. First chance I get."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Smith said blandly. "The first thing is the kids. Have you found out anything?"
"Warner Pell. It was his plan."
"Then why did one of his own children kill him?" Smith asked.
"Well, Pell had this woman in it with him. Sashur Kaufperson. When the heat got put on, he was going to hand her up, and she convinced one of the kids to splat him."
"What kind of name is Kaufperson?"
"It's got one N. It's German. Two N's are Jewish."
"That's not what I mean. I never heard a name like Kaufperson."
"It used to be Kaufmann. Her husband was one of the witnesses that got zapped."
"Where is she now?"
"I've got her under lock and key. Don't worry about it."
"All right," Smith said. "Stay where you are. I'll get back to you."
"You might just sky-write the message," said Remo. "Now that everybody knows about us, secrecy isn't important anymore."
"I will call you," Smith said coldly and hung up.
Remo dropped the phone into a waste basket and turned toward Chiun, who was unrolling his sleeping mat in the center of the floor.
"Remo, please move that couch away."
"It's not in your way. You've got enough room to lay down a field of corn."
"Its presence intrudes upon my thoughts," said Chiun. "Please move it."
"Move it yourself. That's laborers' work."