Smith shot him a suspicious look. "Then why are you so interested in him?"
"I saw his picture in the paper," Remo said glibly. "He looked like he might be a distant cousin of mine."
Smith's eyes narrowed, but he let it pass. "Very well," he said. "After this Wolfshy recovered from his wound, he married a woman named Consuela Madera in Las Vegas. Two days after the wedding, he apparently borrowed a quarter from the doorman of a downtown casino, put it in a slot machine, and won approximately one point nine million dollars."
Remo's face went blank. "What?"
"Right now he's making inquiries about starting a bank on an Indian reservation. The Kanton Savings and Loan."
He folded his papers, then carefully burned them in the ashtray. "Anything else?"
"I'll be damned," Remo said.
Chiun gasped, jerking his chair backward and clutching at his heart.
Remo jumped up. "Chiun! Are you—"
"It is she!" He pointed a trembling finger toward the entrance, where a matronly looking blond woman wearing a fur coat entered. "Mona Madrigal!" He pulled himself to his feet. "Thank you, most kind and gracious Emperor," he said formally.
Smith stared at the old man above his steel-rimmed spectacles. "Er… think nothing of it," he said.
When Chiun had wafted away toward the husky woman, Smith turned to Remo. "Who is this Mona Madrigal?"
"A woman Chiun thinks you gave him."
Chiun was ecstatic as he bowed to the actress. The fates had decreed their meeting, and thus did it happen. "It is I," he announced in a cheerful singsong.
"Step aside, shorty," Mona answered in a deep whiskey voice.
Chiun looked around him. Whoever "shorty" was, he had apparently beat a hasty retreat. "Chiun, Master of Sinanju, offers you the tribute of his adoration."
"No kiddin'." She waved over his head. "Hey, Walt! Walt!"
The maitre d' came rushing over. "Yes, madame?"
She cocked her head toward Chiun. "Do me a favor, hon, and give this bum the rush."
The tuxedoed gentleman glared at Chiun. "Sir, perhaps you're wanted at your table."
"Oh, it's quite all right. They'll wait," Chiun said affably. "Miss Madrigal, I gaze at your countenance each day on 'As the Planet Revolves.'"
She burst into strident laughter. "What? That piece of shit? They wouldn't let me show so much as one tit on that show. It almost wrecked my career."
Chiun stepped back, his mouth gaping. "I… I…"
"Amscray, Pops," she said, elbowing her way past him.
The old Oriental stood where he was for a long moment, his white hair drooping like a melting ice cream cone. Then, taking a deep breath, he came quietly back to the table.
Remo hurt for him. "I'm sorry. Little Father," he said.
Chiun shrugged. "It was a disappointment, but the world can be a thoughtless place."
"That's the spirit," Remo said, patting him on the back.
"However, I must write to Miss Madrigal immediately."
"After that? What for?"
"To tell her that there is in her very city a vile, coarse woman attempting to impersonate her, of course."
"What?"
Chiun bent low over the table and whispered, "Obviously that woman is in the service of some foreign power determined to shatter my serenity and sour my disposition."
Remo stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Obviously," he said at last.
"It may be a conspiracy. Perhaps you would like to look into the matter yourself, Emperor."
Harold Smith choked on his water. "Er… yes. That is, I'll see what I can do."
The old man grinned with satisfaction as he picked up his cup of tea and sipped it. "It is a good feeling," he said, "to associate with reasonable men."