"Oh, no, that is fine," Chiun replied quietly, bleeding from every word.
The old Asian sounded genuinely despondent. The amount of gold Smith shipped yearly to the North Korean village of Sinanju as retainer for Chiun and Remo's services was so generous, the Master of Sinanju could have indulged any whim. Yet Smith could not help but feel a twinge of guilt.
"I could yet get you something," Smith suggested, rapidly adding, "something small."
Chiun sniffled. "That would be most kind, but not necessary," he moaned sadly.
"I insist," Smith said. Already he was wondering what there was around the sanitarium that could be packaged as a gift. Mentally, he had already dropped a few notebooks and pens from the supply room into a box when Chiun broke in.
"Since you insist, there is something that I would like," the Master of Sinanju volunteered, his voice strong once more. "A minor boon."
Smith felt the trap snap shut. "What is it?"
"A piffling thing," Chiun responded. "I would not abrade your tender ears with its name. Say but the word and I will take this trifle as my own, in your generous name."
"Master Chiun, if it is within my power to grant it to you, I will. But I need to know what it is you want."
Chiun frowned deeply. The fool wasn't making this easy.
"I am not sure what it is called," the old Korean said. "White nomenclature is still difficult at times. Remo called it an ABC, or letters equally inappropriate. It is an ugly name for a beautiful animal."
"Animal?" Smith asked. "Chiun, do you mean a BBQ?"
"Remo told me it was an ABC." Chiun's voice was puzzled.
"Those animals are not mine to give," Smith said.
The chill raced with blinding speed over the fiberoptic line. "You are going back on your word?" Chiun said coldly.
"I gave you no word," Smith replied firmly. "And given all that has happened, it is likely those animals are vicious. Furthermore, they are the property of BostonBio."
"One would not be missed." Chiun insisted.
"There are only eight altogether."
"A clerical error." Chiun waved angrily.
"Please understand," Smith said reasonably, "they might still be bred and distributed around the world someday. If they are indeed harmless, I will get you one then."
"But everyone will have one then," Chiun whined. "I will not be lauded as Na-Kup if I drag home any common American thing. Why not lug a telephone or television?"
Chiun's lament sparked a memory for Smith. "Now that you mention the telephone, Master Chiun, I could not help but notice the large number of calls you placed to California while sequestered."
Chiun's sulking tone instantly transformed to low menace. "You monitor my conversations?" he accused.
"Not the calls themselves," Smith explained hastily. "But the times and dates of all long-distance calls are recorded on the bills I pay. Are you involved in something I should know about?"
Chiun heard the gliding approach of Remo's loafers.
"My involvements are my own, Smith," Chiun said flatly.
Unfurling his hand, he let the phone clunk to the desk.
When Remo entered the room an instant later, Chiun was settling back down before the tied BBQ. The animal lowed. The old man scowled at it.
Remo scooped up the receiver. It was warm. He shot a glance at Chiun as he spoke. "Windows are all set, Smitty. Broken one's been replaced. Nobody came or went that way."
Smith seemed relieved to be speaking to Remo. "Still," he said. "Our prime suspects in all of this remain the animals and HETA. I will have tests performed on the creatures there. With so recent a kill, it should be a simple matter to determine whether or not they were responsible for the body you discovered tonight."
All at once, a thought occurred to him. Smith's chair squeaked as the CURE director sat up straighter.
"I don't know why I did not think of it before," Smith said excitedly.
"What?"
"One moment."
Remo heard Smith's fingers drumming rapidly at his special keyboard. After a few short minutes, Smith returned to the phone, voice flushed with success.
"I believe I might have something," he said. "I checked the HETA membership rolls in Boston and cross-referenced them with credit-card payments at area grain and feed stores. One store in Leominster keeps popping up."
"Where the hell is that?"
"It is not important," Smith said. "The credit card used there belongs to one Huey Janner. He and his wife own a farm in Medford."
"So?"
"They have ordered large quantities of diverse food items over the past three days. Hay, meatless dog food, bulk oats and so forth."
"They never ordered anything like that before?" Remo asked, picking up the thread.
"No," Smith replied "Theirs is a vegetable farm. They do not allow animals on the premises for either food or as beasts of burden. Understandable, given their membership in the HETA organization."
"How do you know that?"
"I accessed their Web page."
"So much for the pristine country life," Remo said dryly. "We'll check it out."
"If you do find the animals there," Smith instructed, "and they give you any indication that they might be dangerous, it would be in the best interest of all for you to destroy them." His instructions were clinically blunt.
Remo looked back to Chiun. The BBQ was in the process of licking the old man on the nose. Hearing Smith's words, the Master of Sinanju's face grew appalled.
"Find someone else," Remo said firmly.
"But if they are as vicious as they now seem to be, they cannot be allowed to survive," Smith argued.