"I will put a stop to that," Smith said, his voice turning steely.
"Save your dime. The program was just scrubbed. They lost their missile, and the train is kinda banged up."
Smith's voice became urgent. "Remo, begin at the beginning."
Remo explained what he'd discovered at the California Zephyr crash site, up to and including the beheaded rotaryplow engineer.
"The ronin again!" Smith gasped.
"Yep. We didn't see him at the crash, but he was all over the MX train. There are a lot of U.S. airmen without heads, and one MX missile in the corn. Good thing it was a dummy."
Smith swallowed his horror. "You saw this ronin?"
"Saw him, chased him, lost him in the corn. Sorry."
"Why would a ronin attack the US. rail system?"
"Maybe he knew about the MX train and was trying to nail every train he could until he found it."
"That theory is farfetched."
"Maybe you'd like Chiun's theory better."
"Put him on."
"I'd better tell it," said Remo. "Chiun thinks this guy is the same one who had a run-in with an old Master centuries ago and is only now catching up with the House."
"Preposterous!" Smith exploded.
"Chiun, Smitty says your idea is preposterous: Unquote."
Harold Smith heard the Master of Sinanju say something pungent in the Korean language.
"What did he say?"
"You don't want to know, Smitty. Look, he may not be a ghost but he sure as hell acted like one. He popped out of a boxcar like an amok hologram. We couldn't lay hands on him. He was there but wasn't, if you know what I mean."
"How did he get away?"
"We followed him. He got tired of that and threw his katana at me. That was the weirdest part, Smitty. On the way it suddenly turned solid. I kept my head only because I ducked."
"You kept your fool head because I arrested the deadly blade!" snapped Chiun.
"Take your pick, Smitty," Remo said wearily.
"You have the katana still?"
"Yeah. Want it for your collection?"
"Yes. And I want you both here."
"Gotcha. We're on the next flight."
Hanging up, Remo looked down at Chiun's unhappy face. "You heard?"
"Every word. You explained my side of the story improperly. It is fortunate that Smith has recalled us, so that I may rectify your many errors."
"Don't forget to tell Smitty which assassin lost the ronin in the corn."
Chiun made a sound like a steam valve hissing.
FIVE HOURS LATER, Remo and Chiun stood in Harold Smith's Folcroft office once more. The second captured katana lay on the desk beside the first. Smith was examining the workmanship of the new blade.
"It is identical to the first," he said.
"Big deal," said Remo. "See one katana, you've seen them all."
"You have located no blade-smith, Smith?" asked Chiun.
Smith shook his gray head. "No such blades are being forged in this country."
"For a ghost," Remo said, eyeing Chiun, "this guy sure has a ready supply of cutlery."
Chiun frowned. "He is a ghost. You cannot deny that, Remo."
"He was ghostly. That much I'll go along with."
"A ghost is a ghost."
"Ghosts don't go around derailing trains as part of their earthly penances. Especially ronin."
"What logic is this?" spit Chiun.
"He's Japanese, right?"
"A Nihonjinwa," spit Chiun. "A stupid Japanese."
"So why is he wrecking US. trains? Shouldn't he be wrecking his own?"
"You call that logic?"
"Yeah, I call that logic. If he were after the House, he wouldn't be in the derailing business. He would be in the beheading business."
"He is in both!" Chiun flared.
"He's more interested in derailing than beheading."