"Wait!"
Randal Rumpp hung up the telephone. Instantly, it began ringing.
From down the corridor Dorma Wormser shrieked as if in pain, and begged for mercy.
"Remind me to fire that weak-kneed bitch when this is over," Rumpp muttered, moving the bell lever to LOUDEST.
When his executive assistant's screams began to get on his nerves, Rumpp reluctantly suppressed the bell.
It was going to be a long, long day.
Chapter 26
The Master of Sinanju's green-and-gold steamer trunk arrived by express at nine o'clock.
"Your trunk's here," Remo called.
"Do not let the messenger escape."
"Escape?"
Chiun bounded out of his bedroom, wearing a blue-and-white ceremonial robe. Ignoring Remo and the surprised deliveryman, the Master of Sinanju fell upon the ornate trunk. He examined every inch of its lacquered surface for nicks or blemishes.
Finding none, he threw open the lid and did a complete inventory with suspicious eyes.
Only then did he straighten his cat-lean back and address the waiting messenger.
"You may live, careful one."
"You mean 'leave,' " said the deliveryman.
"That too," sniffed Chiun. After the man had closed the door behind him, Remo remarked, "He thinks you were kidding him."
The phone rang. Chiun ignored it. Remo scooped up the receiver and said, "Smitty?"
"Remo!" Harold Smith admonished. "You should never speak my name before I identify myself. Security. "
"Like there aren't twenty million Smiths in the world," Remo muttered. "Okay, what's your problem?"
"The Rumpp Regis is about to be seized for back taxes."
Remo raised an interested eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"It just broke over the wire services," Smith added.
"So what do we do?"
"Sit tight. If Randal Rumpp has somehow turned the Krahseevah technology to his own use, it's possible he may move to despectralize it."
"That means we're at ground zero. With a capital Z."
"Await developments."
"What developments?" Remo asked.
"Any developments."
"Great," Remo said sourly, hanging up.
"What did Emperor Smith say?" Chiun asked absently. He was going through the contents of his trunk. Remo noticed he was holding some sort of feather-decorated wind instrument, whose flaring mouth promised an ear-splitting cacophony.
Remo decided the less the Master of Sinanju knew, the quieter the lull before the storm would be.
"He said we're to hang loose until something happens," Remo replied, trying to keep his voice toneless.
Chiun looked up from his trunk. "He said to do nothing?"
"That's about the size of it."
Chiun returned to his rummaging. "Then we do nothing. "
"Not me. I'm going downstairs to get a newspaper."
"For an illiterate like you, that is nothing," Chiun sniffed.
Remo took the elevator to the lobby and bought a paper at the newsstand. He bought a Post, because the Times didn't have a comics section.
The lobby was busy with grim-faced official types who were showing badges. IRS. They were giving the desk clerk a hard time.
"Are we being audited again?" the clerk asked.
"No, sir," said the IRS man said. "We're not auditors. We're revenue collectors."
"If you want to take money from the hotel safe, you'll have to speak with the manager," the clerk sniffed.
"No need. We're seizing the entire hotel."
The clerk paled and looked on the verge of fainting. "Does this mean I'm unemployed?"
"Only if you don't follow instructions. You work for Uncle Sam now."
Remo decided to read the paper in the lobby, seeing as the IRS agents promised to be almost as entertaining as Calvin and Hobbes.
An agent sauntered over and said, "No loitering in this lobby."
"I'm registered," Remo pointed out.