"If you marry for money, love cannot fail to follow."
Remo blinked. "I know this is kinda sudden but-"
Chiun lifted a long-nailed hand. "You have my permission to wed. I bless this union."
Remo blinked more rapidly. Jean laughed out loud, a happy, infectious sound.
"May you bear my adopted son many squawling infants," Chiun said expansively.
"Don't you at least want to know her heritage?" Remo asked.
"A good thought," said Chiun. "Child, what is your father's last name?"
"Rice. My name is Jean Rice."
Chiun brought his deceptively delicate hands together, and his face assumed a rapturous expression. "You will be an excellent influence upon my wayward son, who has sowed his wild oats for too long now. It is time he settled down to a steady diet of rice. Even if it is white rice."
"We haven't set a date yet," Remo said quickly.
Chiun arose from his mat. "There is no need. I am prepared to marry you now."
Remo stepped back with nervous speed. "Wait a minute! What's the rush?"
"You have made the decision. It is done. As head of the House, it is my duty to join you in matrimony."
Remo started backing out of the room.
"But first you must know certain things about my adopted son, Remo," added Chiun.
"Shoot," said Jean, folding her arms.
"He is a fearsome killer."
Jean cocked an eyebrow. "Him?"
"Yes. Second only to myself. Many enemies of this country he has slain in cruel and merciless ways. For we secretly work for no less than the emperor of America."
Jean eyed Remo. "He's funny. I like him."
"He's a pain in the butt," returned Remo.
"He's using reverse psychology, you know."
"I am not," Chiun flared. "If no one objects to this union, I pronounce you assassin and consort."
"Wait a minute. I object," Remo said.
Jean wrapped one arm around Remo and said, "Too late. We're wed."
"I hardly know you. And this is just a date."
"Don't sweat it. I'm rich. I'll support you."
Chiun's eyes narrowed sharply to conceal their growing merriment.
"Look," Remo sputtered. "I just met her. I thought I'd use her to get that old bat off my back. I can't walk by her and she makes a crack about my masculinity."
Face reddening, Jean released Remo and stepped away.
"You were just using me!" she said, her voice squeezing down in shock.
Remo caught himself. "I didn't mean 'using' like that."
She grabbed his arm again. "So we can get married, after all."
"You are married," said Chiun.
"No!" said Remo.
"If you jilt this woman who loves you, Remo, it will bring shame to the House," Chiun scolded.
Remo grabbed Jean by the hand and dragged her down the stairs. Her laugh bounced off the walls. Remo, visibly annoyed, fumed until they were out of the building.
Once outside, Jean looked up at the fieldstone monstrosity and said, "If we end up living here, I want some changes."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Remo growled.
She looked up at him, her eyes appealing. "You weren't really using me?"
"I need to get that iron-haired scold off my back."
"Uh-huh. Let's go back to the beach. You look like you could use a good smooch."
"I'm a little rusty in the romance department," Remo admitted.
She took his hand. "I have just the cure for that ...."
Chapter 23
The first psychological profile came by e-mail.
Smith's system beeped to alert him of the incoming transmission from the FBI Chicago office. Smith hadn't expected a report this soon, although he knew the Bureau profilers were very good at this sort of task.
The text report was succinct to the point of ridiculous:
UNSUB is antisocial type. White male, age about thirty-five, intelligent, detail oriented and keeps bees. Probably had an ant farm as a child and fell into fantasy world inhabited by insects. Lives in isolation. Minimum to no social life. Drives Volkswagen Beetle. Follows the Charlotte Hornets.