"Excuse me?"
"Just witch talk," Remo said. "If I read Delpha right, it won't be long before she and that tape are on Horrendo Riviera or Nancy Jessica Repunsel."
Smith said, "Find a quiet out-of-the-way hotel and contact me directly, Remo."
"Gotcha," Remo said, hanging up. The phone immediately rang, and on impulse, he picked it up.
"This is the operator. Please deposit an additional seventy-five cents."
"Only if you refund the buck-twenty I lost to all your non-working pay phones."
"I cannot do that," the operator said primly.
"Then I cannot deposit additional funds."
"Then I must charge the receiving caller."
"His name is Smith, and he loves paying my bills," Remo said, hanging up.
The Master of Sinanju was not pleased at the instructions he was given.
"I will not abandon Cheeta in her hour of torment," he said tightly.
"Her hour of torment began the day she was born, and has poisoned everyone she ever came into contact with, not the least of whom is us," Remo said hotly. "Smith says we lie low. So do we lie low, or do we kiss off our current contract negotiation?"
"We lie low," Chiun said bitterly. "But if Cheeta refuses to speak with me after this incident, I will hold it against Harold the Smith forever."
"Gee, I was just talking to him, and he has his heart set on being the godfather."
Chiun's wispy facial hair trembled with surprise.
"Really, Remo?"
Chapter 19
When Delpha Rohmer, Official Witch of Salem, Massachusetts, President of the Sisterhood for Witch Awareness, swept into the lobby of the Multinational Broadcast Company's New York headquarters, the Purolator guard looked up, frowned, and sighed.
"Aren't you a little old for trick-or-treat, lady?"
"I offer no tricks," she said haughtily.
The guard dug out a handful of butterscotch candies he kept behind the desk for his own use. "Okay," he said grudgingly, "put out your bag."
"You fail to understand, man-mortal. I have come bearing a prize that your news director will covet greatly."
"Covet?"
"Be good enough to inform him that Delpha Rohmer has footage of the haunting of the Rumpp Tower."
"Haunting?"
"Baphomet has declared it his domain on earth. And I have proof that Randal Rumpp is in league with the Great Horned One." From out of Delpha's cleavage came the black videocassette.
The guard looked at it. He recognized that it was no home VCR cassette, but a half-inch-tape cartridge. He picked up the lobby desk phone and said, "Mr. Graff. I have a . . . witch here to see you. Says it's about the Rumpp Tower thing. She says it's haunted and she has tape to prove it."
The guard listened a moment, then said, "Let me just say that she sounds serious."
Knute Graff thought Delpha Rohmer looked serious, too. He accepted her business card, winced, and swallowed his impulse to laugh. He said, "Come with me," and turned swiftly so he could relieve the stress of the moment with a half-repressed smile.
In the MBC viewing room, he ran the tape through.
"Who shot this?" he asked.
Delpha said, "Does it matter? I am offering it to you."
The news director watched as Cheeta Ching came on.
"Wait a minute!" he exploded. "I can't run this! That Korean Shark would eat me alive!"
"The most dramatic footage has nothing to do with her," Delpha pointed out, in a toneless voice that made the man think of sucked-dry flies in an old spider's web. Dead.
Graff watched the footage of Randal Rumpp claiming credit for the dematerialization of Rumpp Tower incident, and his eyes went wide. Then he came to footage that he could not explain.
"What is that thing?" he blurted.
"It is a negative night-gaunt," he was told.
"Looks more like a positive one."
"A positive night-gaunt would be black," Delpha explained. "This unholy creature is white."
"I can see that. But where the heck is its face?"
"It has none. This is how I know it to be a night-gaunt. "
Eyes still wide, Knute Graff swiveled his chair around and looked at Delpha Rohmer.
"You know, if I use this tape, it might be called a gross breach of journalistic ethics."
"Yes?"
"On the other hand, that Korean Shark once shafted me good. How much do you want?"
"Ten thousand dollars. And as much exposure for myself and my religion as you can deliver."
"Religion?"