"Obviously it is a plot of some kind," Plum said. Remo looked past Plum and noticed Chiun's nose wrinkle distastefully.
"I smell blood," Chiun squeaked.
"I'm not surprised," Remo told him. "The dead guy is bleeding like a stuck pig."
"The blood I detect is not coming from that room, but from this man."
"I believe I may have touched him," Plum said. "Possibly got a spot of blood on my hands. Nasty business, murder. It offends the sensibilities."
Plum shifted his walking stick to his other hand and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He used it to give his hands a brisk rub, his stick tucked under his arm. Remo noticed a drop of blood spatter from the knob. Another drop joined the first on the immaculate floor.
"Your stick appears to be bleeding, sport," Remo said.
"Ah, so it is," Plum said. "Thank you for pointing it out to me. I shall have to give it a thorough cleaning."
"He must think we're both idiots," Remo told Chiun.
"He is half-right," Chiun said.
"I don't quite follow," Plum said looking about his person for a place to put his bloodied handkerchief.
"Follow this," Remo said. "You killed Ian."
"Preposterous!" Plum sputtered. He took the other end of his stick in hand, twisting it anxiously. Remo could tell by that, that his guess had struck home. So he was prepared for what happened next.
Plum was twisting the walking stick nervously. Suddenly the stick slid apart, revealing a rapierlike blade. It was red for a third of its gleaming length.
"Watch it, Chiun!" Remo warned. "He's got a sword."
The blade came up in Remo's face. He didn't flinch as Plum slashed the air menacingly. The fine blade made the distinctive flutter and swish sound only the best swords produce.
"Give it up, Plum," Remo warned. "Or I'll get rough."
"Stay back. I am a master swordsman, I will have you know. Sandhurst and all that."
"Hey," Remo said, lifting both hands as if to surrender. "I'm unarmed."
"Capital. Then I shall run you through."
Plum lunged. Remo let the blade slide between his arm and rib cage. He clamped the blade with his armpit and twisted at the waist.
The tempered steel snapped. Plum withdrew, staring at his maimed blade.
"I say," he said stupidly. "This is quite unsporting. This sword cane has been in my family for generations."
"Sorry," Remo said in a mock-contrite voice.
"I demand satisfaction."
"Demand all you want," Remo said, plucking the tip of the sword from under his arm and breaking it into bite-size shards with quick finger movements, "but you're going to volunteer answers."
"I think not," Plum said stiffly, his eyes darting all around the room. He started to retreat, his broken sword still raised defensively.
"Shut the door, Chiun," Remo said. The Master of Sinanju closed the computer-room door. He stood there, his hands disappearing into his sleeves.
Remo advanced on Plum, who edged back toward a bank of windows.
"You killed him to cover up something, didn't you?" Remo said evenly. "Whatever it is, you're part of it. Wince if I'm getting uncomfortably close."
"I have only one thing to say to you, rebel!"
"Rebel?" Remo asked.
"Rule Britannia!" Plum shrieked, and threw himself into the window glass.
"Damn!" Remo said, leaping for the man. He had been prepared for another attack, not suicide. Plum went through the window headfirst. His polished shoes were going over the windowsill when Remo grabbed one. The shoe came off in Remo's hand. He recovered and got the silk-stockinged ankle.
"Give me a hand, Chiun," Remo barked. "He's fighting me."
The Master of Sinanju was already sweeping across the room at full sail.
Remo stuck his head out of the shattered panel. Below, the ant-farm congestion of Hong Kong traffic blared and hummed.
"Come on, Plum," Remo said. "You don't want to go this way."
"Let go of me, you blighter!" Clive Plum was kicking at Remo's free hand. Remo transferred his grip to Plum's other ankle.
Plum started kicking with the other foot, his face turning red as the blood rushed to it. A vein on his forehead was swelling as if about to burst.
Chiun took hold of the other ankle.
"Okay, let's reel him in," Remo said.
Plum abruptly stopped struggling. He hung limp as Remo and Chiun pulled him up over the sill.
"Watch the broken glass," Remo cautioned. "Don't want to cut him."
They pulled Plum's shoulders to the casement, and then he started to fight again. He held on to the casement, heedless of the glass slicing his fingers.
"Grab his hands!" Remo said. "He's cutting them to ribbons. "
A spurt of blood went past Chiun's wrinkled face. It came from Plum's punctured wrists.
"He is doing this deliberately," Chiun said, reaching for a flailing wrist.
"I got him," Remo said. He captured Plum around the waist in a bear hug. Plum went limp. His head still hung out the window. Remo pulled, and felt a stubborn resistance.