"What, have we joined the ranks of royalty?" Remo asked.
"Some have greatness thrust upon them-" Chiun began.
"And others have it slip between their fingers because they get greedy," Remo finished.
Chiun's face was stung. "I am still the Master of Sinanju."
"Who's in a dither because some brokerage house is about to buy the rug out from under him."
"This is my castle," Chiun said firmly.
"Not if you've sold most of your stock and Looncraft can buy it up."
"Maybe you should buy it back," Faith interjected. "Top his offer."
"What? Buy back all that worthless paper?"
"It's not worthless if you lose ownership because of it," Remo countered. "I may not know a lot about high finance, but I know that much."
Chiun considered. "Perhaps I will speak to Smith after all," he said.
"Can't hurt," Remo said in a reasonable tone.
Moments later they were in Chiun's bare office. Remo put the call through because it was a secure line which couldn't be entrusted to Faith, who waited outside the office.
"Smith, Remo. Chiun wants to talk to you." Remo handed the phone to the Master of Sinanju.
"Smith! Nostrum is under siege."
"Excellent. Who is it?" Smith asked eagerly. His voice was amplified by a speakerphone attachment.
"A cabal who call themselves Looncraft, Dymstar d."
"Wood," Remo interjected. "Buttonwood."
"I was hoping something like this would happen," Smith said.
"What? You admit betraying me, Smith?"
"No, of course not. But obviously Looncraft is interested in the Global block Nostrum holds."
"Maybe not," Remo put in. "Chiun's changed the rules. He's been selling his stock above the market price. No cash, no credit. Investors have to plunk down gold and they walk off with stock."
Smith groaned. "Oh, no. A move like that is like blood in the water to those sharks. They'll think you're up to something. No wonder Looncraft has become interested in Nostrum. They must believe you're an up-and-coming company."
"So maybe they don't want the Global stock after all," Remo said in disappointment.
"It's very, very likely," Smith replied dispiritedly.
"We will find out," Chiun said. "We will offer them Global and see if they go away."
"No," Smith said quickly. "Global is our bait. It's the only thing we have that will draw out the plotters. Under no circumstance must you sell that stock. Or any of your other holdings. We have a responsibility to the world economy to show faith in the marketplace."
"You cannot stop me, Smith," Chiun warned.
"Perhaps you should call a meeting of the board of directors before you begin," Smith said after a tight pause.
"Who are they?"
"The co-owners of Nostrum. Majority shareholders."
"And who are these people?"
"Remo is one. I believe he's secretary."
"What? Remo owns Nostrum too?"
"I do?" Remo said, surprise on his face.
"And there are others," Smith added. "It's standard corporate organization. Before Nostrum can make any major decisions, such as selling off Global stock, a full board meeting must be convened and the matter voted on."
Chiun fumed. His hazel eyes squeezed into slits of bitterness.
"There will be no need for that," Chiun said in a distant voice. "And since you know so much about these matters, what do you suggest I do?"
"Looncraft wants Nostrum," Smith explained. "That much we know. Why don't you meet with him? Take his temperature. "
"Is he sick?"
"It's an expression," Smith said. "See if his interest is in Nostrum or your Global holdings. The Asian stock markets will open at eight o'clock Sunday night, our time. We must be prepared for a rout. Every moment is precious. There is still time to head off another crash."
"Very well," Chiun said, hanging up. He turned to Remo with smoldering eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were secretary of Nostrum?"
"Because I didn't know," Remo answered. "And if you want to know the truth, I don't care. This is just another Harold Smith snow job. I don't own anything. And neither do you. This place is a house of cards, and when this job is done, Smith is going to light a match to it. Count on it."
"And Smith will rue the day," Chiun said levelly.
"Okay, so what's our next move . . . Chief?"
"Your next move it to take your rightful place at the reception area."
"Me?"
"Did you not hear Smith? You are secretary. Then you will do a secretary's job and earn your pay."
"I get paid?"