"All right, I'll play along. When's he free?"
"Actually, he's free right now. He hates appointments." Faith looked at her watch. "It's eleven-thirty-two now. Why don't we pencil you in for, say, eleven-thirty-three?"
"Are you serious?"
"Please take a seat," Faith said, gesturing to a bare spot by the wall.
Remo settled on the spot. In his head, he counted off the seconds until Faith called to him. Her watch was five seconds late by Remo's internal clock.
"I'll announce you now," she said, picking up the phone. "Mr. Chiun, Remo Stallone to see you. Yes, he does have an appointment."
Faith hung up. "Go right in."
"Thanks," Remo said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I thought you looked Italian," she called after him.
Remo walked into a large room where suspender-festooned young workers sat behind banks of computer screens. The screens were on the floor. So were the telephones and other office impedimenta. Not to mention the workers. They looked uncomfortable, and a few could be heard complaining about their backs.
Remo breezed past them to a door on which the word "CHIEF" was painted in black lettering. He entered without knocking.
Inside, the Master of Sinanju looked up from his tatami mat on the bare floor.
"Remo!" Chiun said brightly. "Welcome to Nostrum, Ink. "
"I see you've got everyone dancing to your tune," Remo said, closing the door.
"Why not?" Chiun returned proudly. "I am their chief. My employees are very loyal to me. It is all very tribal."
"I'm glad you're settling in so well."
"It is not all easy," Chiun said. "I have had to fire some of them already."
"Embezzlers?"
"Poor spellers. They could not properly write a simple word such as 'ink.' It was unbelievable, Remo. Everywhere I look, the signs said 'Nostrum, Inc.' With a 'c.' "
"Pitiful. The U.S. educational system is to blame."
"I blame Smith," Chiun sniffed. "He hired cheap help. But I am well on my way to setting things right."
"So what does Nostrum do, anyway?"
Chiun looked to the closed door. He leaned closer.
"It makes money," he said low-voiced.
"No kidding?" Remo said, suppressing a smile.
"No, really. Look." Chiun picked a sheet of paper from a pile and handed it to Remo. Remo took it.
It was a stock certificate in the name of Nostrum, Inc.
"I think you'll have to reprint these," Remo said. "It still says 'Inc.' With a 'c'."
"This is an old one," Chiun said. "We sell these."
"Yeah, that's how it works, all right."
"You do not understand, Remo. We also print them. In this very building. We print them, and people pay vast sums for these worthless things."
"Maybe they like the design."
"I thought of that too," Chiun said, taking the certificate back. He looked at the face. "But in truth it is an ugly design. I am having that changed as well."
"Well, maybe Smith can explain it. I've been running around town all morning and came up goose-eggs. "
"You wore the suit?" Chiun asked anxiously.
Remo sighed. "Yeah, I wore the suit."
"Where is it now?"
"I stashed it in a locker in Grand Central."
Chiun looked hurt. "What?"
"Hey, take it easy. I'm in my civilian identity."
"Ah, I understand," Chiun said. "I watched the video. I know how these things work. After terrorizing the villains, you have assumed your true identity, the better to safeguard yourself from their cowardly attacks upon your person. "
"Something like that," Remo agreed.
"You did terrorize them?" Chiun asked in concern.
"They'll have bear nightmares into the year 2000," Remo promised. "But I don't know what good it will do. Nobody broke down and confessed or anything. But all Smith wanted was for me to shake them up. Maybe one of them will make a move."
The intercom buzzed. Chiun touched a button with a delicate finger.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Chiun-"
"I told you to call me 'Chief,' " Chiun said querulously. "I am your chief executive officer. You must use the proper form of address."
"Sorry, Chief," Faith said.