"Nope, but I'm empowered to sign for him."
The courier wiped his brow with his blue uniform sleeve as Remo signed the voucher.
"What's in this thing anyway-lead diving shoes?" the courier grumbled.
Remo shook his head. "Dwarf star matter."
"Huh?"
"Dwarf star matter. Sometimes pieces of it fall to earth. They're so dense that a chunk the size of a basketball weighs as much as Detroit. In order to transport it they have to break it up into tiny pieces. The one in your box is the size of a shirt button."
"You're kidding me."
"I'd show you, but if it falls out of the crate, we'll need a crane to pick it up," Remo said.
"So how come you're handling that crate like it contained marshmallows?"
"I used to bench press dwarf star matter. It's part of my job training."
The courier passed the story along to his fellow drivers, and they began wondering aloud if Remo wouldn't mind carrying the other boxes in, since he had a knack for it.
Remo did mind, but not as much as he minded standing out on the front steps explaining dwarf star matter to twenty different people, all waving clipboards.
By the time Remo got every crate stacked in the inner hall, the Master of Sinanju had deigned to come down.
"Is this what I hope it is?" he squeaked excitedly. "Has my gold arrived?"
"What did you think those trucks were all about? And don't tell me you didn't notice them."
Chiun stopped at the bottom of the inner stairs, sniffed delicately and said, "You have been to see Smith."
"Says who?"
"Says the after-shave lotion clinging to your person. It is the scent that only he wears."
Damn, thought Remo. Chiun had him. Smith wore a cologne that had been discontinued in 1972, and he had purchased a thirty-year supply closeout for two cents on the dollar. "Okay," Remo said tiredly, "I admit it. I saw Smith."
Chiun narrowed his eyes. "About what?"
"Personal stuff."
"What is so personal that you cannot share it with the one who adopted you?"
"Get off my back, Chiun."
"You did not tell Smith about my sunlighting?"
"Rest assured, the name of Squirrelly Chicane did not pass my lips. Except once."
"What is this? What is this?"
"While I was there, the President called. He asked Smith if we could baby-sit Squirrelly in Tibet."
"And what did Smith say?"
"Don't sweat it. Smith said no."
"No? Why did Smith say no? Did he not think we were worthy of the task? Or did he think you were unworthy of so important a responsibility? Oh, Remo, your ineptitude has caused the house great shame."
"It has not. Smith didn't think the Bunji Lama was a CURE problem."
"No?"
"No. Now where do you want this freaking gold?"
"My gold is not freaking."
"This gold is. It weighs a ton."
"It would not be gold if it did not."
"Touche. So where do I put it?"
"I would prefer to have it placed in the meditation room where I may meditate on its fineness and superior quality."
"Don't kid me. You just wanna see that it's all there."
"That, too."
Remo started stacking the crates and carrying them upstairs, ten at a time, five balanced in each palm. He made it look easy. In fact, the balancing allowed him to bear the weight without breaking his forearms.
When all the crates were stacked in the meditation room, some spilling out into the hall, Remo said, "I'm going to bed. I'm bushed."
Chiun' s fingernails came together with a click, then disappeared into his generous kimono sleeves. "You are not going to open them for me?" he asked in a wheedling voice.
"No."
"Since you are tired, I forgive you."
"Thanks," said Remo, turning to go.
"Do not forget to shower. You smell like a white."
"I am white."
"It is only your skin that is white. It means no more than that the skin of the new Bunji Lama is white."