"It broke. Heh. Heh. Nothing works in America except me."
"Ooh," said Remo. "What happened?"
"I taught this little device to remember its vibrations."
"Don't let Dr. Quake escape," said Remo. He felt wet coolness envelop his back.
"Escape? He was in even worse condition than you. He is dead, his body unable to accept a little-buffeting."
"A little buffeting? I almost died."
"Last year you ate a hamburger with ketchup and said that would not harm you. Two years ago it was a steak. And even at your Christmas time you consumed a bubbling drink laden with sugar, yet now you complain of a little buffeting."
"Will I make it?"
"Not if you kill your body with your mouth."
"I mean will I be able to walk again? Have I bought the package?"
"You mean will you return to your former standards of shoddy performances, gross eating habits and disrespect?"
"You like to take advantage of the helpless, don't you?"
"When I tell you to consume only healthy foods, I am helping you. But you do not wish to be helped. When I tell you proper mental attitudes, you forget them and do not wish to be helped. Now you ask for help. How do I know you will take it?"
"Disrespect, you learn well."
"Please."
"Breathe to fullness," Chiun commanded, as though Remo were back in the first days of training, when he heard the elderly Oriental explain that all force came first from breathing.
The breathing was painful and then Remo felt another shock and he was on his feet. Water puddled around his ankles. Dr. Quake's body was folded in two, his chin resting on his groin, his spinal column snapped. Behind him the aluminium spire had also snapped, and water gushed harmless undirected from two large pipes.
The moon played golden on the sloshy wet ground. The birds no longer called in hysterical shrieks. The California night air tasted fresh and good and rich.
"When the machine remembered its vibrations, it died," said Chiun.
"That explains it," said Remo. "How are you with electric toasters?"
"Better than you young white man," said Chiun, using what Remo knew was Chiun's ultimate insult.
"You wouldn't happen to know the geological result of all this, would you?" asked Remo.
"The earth is wounded and it will one day shriek in pain. I would not wish to be here when it yells."
"I guess that says it all."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The mini-report over the telephone was a pleasure in its delivery. Smith was truly shocked that Dr. Quake had been behind the scheme. And suddenly Remo realized why.
"He was on our payroll. Admit it. One of ours. That's why you didn't think he was involved. Admit it."
"I don't know everyone who's on our payroll," Smith said dryly. Remo cradled the receiver in the crook of his neck. He had shut the door of the pay phone booth, apparently trapping a full third of California's insect population.
"Wow," Remo said. "That's something. You put a guy on the payroll who nearly destroys half of California."
"Don't forget the million and a half," Smith said.
"What a loser you turned out to be," Remo said.
But the click of the phone across the continent interrupted his gloating. The pleasure disappeared like the coin in the phone box.
Remo cracked open the box with a snap of his forefinger, shattering the lock. He opened the change vessel with a crush of his right hand and scooped up nickels, dimes and quarters. Then he threw them at the California moon. He missed.