"What? Tell me!"
"A new idea. One that is taking root all over. One that will erase these fears, all barriers."
"What? What is it?"
"Multiculturalism."
"Huh?"
"It is a brave new philosophy," Esperanza said. "I am not the candidate of color, but of hope. I represent the man who will lift up people of color, while at the same time protecting the blancos from the erosion of their estate in life."
Harmon Cashman frowned. "Sounds like Rainbow Coalition stuff. You sure you're not talking Rainbow Coalition? You know that won't fly with the electorate. Especially down in Orange County."
"No, it will not fly," Enrique Esperanza admitted. "But multiculturalism will."
Harmon Cashman's eyes went to the tiny wisp of a Korean then.
"Tell you what-you bring that little fellow in here and tell him that. Let's see if it goes over with him."
"Agreed," said Enrique Espiritu Esperanza.
The Master of Sinanju stared into the setting sun. It burned his tender features, wise with age. Never had he felt such pain. Never before had he been so wounded.
The mellow sound of Enrique Espiritu Esperanza's voice dispelled his pain like a soothing pool of light.
Turning, the Master of Sinanju padded into the room where the man called Esperanza waited with his white lackey.
"I am at your service," said Chiun, using polite words he did not feel.
"I am glad to hear this, because I have a favor to ask of you," said Enrique Espiritu Esperanza.
"Speak."
"I will be governor of this state in less than a month's time."
"If the people are with you," Chiun added pointedly.
"They are with me. With your help."
"As long as the Master of Sinanju stands at your side, you need not fear for your safety."
"And I do not. But I need more than that."
Chiun wrinkled his button nose. "I am no soldier, who volunteers to perform lesser tasks. You know what I am?"
"I do. And it is with that in mind that I make the following offer to you."
"Continue."
"I have yet to select my cabinet."
Hearing this, Harmon Cashman gulped. "Ricky . . . Think about this," he said hotly.
"I will soon be governor of the state with the largest economy in this country. An economy that is ranked as the seventh largest on the face of this earth. I need someone to attend to the financial concerns of this economy. Someone to handle the money."
Between anguished fingers, Harmon Cashman ground his bifurcated Oreo into crumbly bits.
"How much money?" asked the Master of Sinanju coolly.
"Billions," replied Enrique Esperanza.
"Continue," Chiun invited.
"The person who performs this task is called a 'treasurer.' "
"An honored post, since before Egyptian times."
"I would be honored if you would consent to be my treasurer," said Enrique Espiritu Esperanza.
The Master of Sinanju took in the words of the man called Esperanza. He saw a man of vision, of unsurpassed brilliance, one who knew the value of the House of Sinanju without being told. One who recognized greatness when he came upon it.
In this bitter hour, it was more than enough.
"I accept," said the Master of Sinanju, bowing deeply.
"I am honored," returned Enrique Esperanza, matching the bow.
Off to one side, Harmon Cashman groaned as if he'd been impaled by a Zulu spear.
"Now let me tell you how I plan to achieve this goal and bring us both to power . . . ." Enrique Espiritu Esperanza continued smoothly.
"It is called cultimulcherism," Chiun said into the telephone.
"Good for it," Remo said. "I've booked a room in the hotel. Forty-four D. Any time you feel like coming down, feel free."
"It will not be necessary."
"Okay, I guess we take turns guarding Esperanza then. When do you want to be relieved?"
"Your services will no longer be required."
"Cut it out, Chiun. For crying out loud. You don't speak for the organization. And until Smitty pulls us both off this one, I'm as stuck as you are."
"I am not speaking for Smith or for the organization," said Chiun testily. "I am speaking for Esperanza. I have joined his crusade in cultimulcherism."
"Never heard of it."