"Unknown, Director."
"The little guy looks like he strayed out of a bad Saturday morning cartoon."
The Director picked up the telephone handset at his elbow, inadvertently hitting the dial buttons embedded in it.
"Damn these things! What was wrong with the rotary dial?"
He hit the switch hook and tapped the pound key.
"Yes?"
"Get me that weasel Drake," he snapped.
"At once, sir."
A cautious voice came on the line.
"You wanted me, Director?"
"There are two of them, and they're sniffing at the back door like a couple of hound dogs at a fireplug."
"I'm patching into the visual feed now."
"Good for you," the Director said acidly. The man was a toady.
"Director, they fit the description of the pair Zorilla encountered earlier this evening."
"That idiot must have let them follow him. Where is he?"
"On his way to my office for debriefing and reassignment."
"Decruit him."
"Yes, Director. What about the intruders?"
"I'm going to have them let in."
"Director?"
"Well, we can't very well let them go running back to the CIA or the Cuban DGI, now can we?"
"No, Director. We can't."
"You deal with Zorilla. He's your speed. I'll handle these two."
The Director hung up abruptly. He turned to a blank-faced uniformed figure, standing guard at the door.
"You, flunky. Open the door for our curious guests."
"Yes, Director."
"And have them interrogated and processed out with the rest of the trash."
"Yes, Director."
The Director went back to his computer screen. He tapped a key and the eyes drew themselves. He added a smiling mouth and a button nose.
"Not bad," he murmured contentedly. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."
He added his famous signature with the tap of another key.
"We are being observed," intoned the Master of Sinanju.
"Infrared?" Remo asked.
"I feel warm rays."
"Infrared," Remo said.
They were crouched in the rank kudzu, studying the massive portal.
Remo's dark eyes raked the structure. The ground under his feet thrummed and throbbed, as if from mighty machinery.
"Think they can hear us, too?"
"It does not matter," said Chiun.
"I don't see any way in except through that huge bulkhead, but there's gotta be a vent shaft or something."
Just then whining servo-motors cut the air, and with a metallic uncoiling the great door began to rise.
"Looks like we've been invited in," Remo said doubtfully.
The Master of Sinanju stood up. His hands going to his wrists and both disappearing under closing sleeves, he said, "Then let us be gracious and accept this kindness."
Face calm, he started forward. Remo followed, not looking happy at all.
Chapter 13
Comandante Leopoldo Zorilla walked the cavernous walkways, which were scrubbed clean with military spotlessness.
Two soldiers in insignia-less uniforms came along driving a rubber-tired utility vehicle, like a golf cart on steroids. It was an unmilitary turquoise.
The driver said, "Hop on, sir. Drake will see you immediately."
"Gracias," said Comandante Zorilla, getting in back. He sat facing away from the driver. The rubber-tired utility vehicle turned smartly and zipped back the way it had come.