"Hah what?" asked Melvis.
"Weren't they recalled a few years back?" Remo said.
"Yeah. They kept tippin' over on tight turns. But a few folks spent the money to have 'em fixed up so they were stable. That's why I said it was funny. You don't see too many Ninjas on the road these days. Worst Burn rice-burner ever built."
Suddenly Chiun turned, hurrying back to the rail line. He walked them carefully, striding, his fists tight, hazel eyes scouring the rails, the ties and the surrounding brush.
"What's he lookin' for now?" Melvis asked Remo.
"You'll know when I do."
"You're not bein' very cooperative."
"Sometimes the dog wags the tail. Other times it's the other way around. I learned a long time ago to follow along and let the pieces reveal themselves."
Melvis spit. "You would last two days with NTSB."
Chiun stopped so abruptly that Melvis nearly bumped into him. They gathered around. Chiun was looking straight down.
In the center of a tie was a fresh gouge.
"I'm lookin' at a gouge, am I right?" said Melvis.
Chiun nodded.
"Looks like a hunk of metal hit it pretty hard. It's sound, though. No urgency about replacin' it. Am I right?"
"A katana did this," Chiun intoned.
"Oh-oh," said Remo.
"What's a tanaka?" asked Melvis.
"Katana. Sword."
"Sword, huh? I'd put it down as a flyin' hunk of axle or something."
"It's a sword cut," said Remo.
"What sword?"
"The blade that beheaded the engineer," said Chiun.
"You funnin' me? He was decapitated."
"Beheaded."
"What makes you say that?"
"Experience," said Chiun, abruptly leaving the rail.
"Where we goin' now?" Melvis wanted to know.
When Chiun stepped into the rental car, the immediate question was answered.
Remo leaned into the car. "Where to next, Little Father?"
"We must speak with Smith."
"Who's Smith?" asked Melvis.
"Our supervisor."
"I got a cell phone in my rig."
"We need more privacy than that."
"Well, there's gotta be a pay phone somewhere's around. After all, this is Texas."
"Not if he gets his way."
"Say again?" asked Melvis in a dubious voice.
"It goes back to the original settlers."
"The Mexicans? Never."
"No, before them," said Chiun.
"You mean the Injuns?" Melvis exploded. "I'd sooner see the dang Asiatics have it."
"You're getting warmer," said Remo.
Chapter 12
Harold Smith was at his desk when the blue contact phone rang. He had been cleared to work by the Folcroft doctors who had pulled him from the taxi and administered stimulants.
The first thing Smith had said upon regaining consciousness was, "I must get to my desk."
"It's the middle of the night, Dr. Smith," the head doctor said. "I prescribe rest."
"And I pay your salary," Smith snapped.
The Folcroft staff knew their director. They eased him into a stainless-steel wheelchair and rolled him to his Spartan office, where he peremptorily dismissed them.
Reaching under his desk, whose top was a slab of black glass, Smith pressed the button that activated the buried video terminal. It lurked under the tinted glass. When the screen came on, the amber phosphorescent sign-on cycle was visible only to Smith.