"I do," said Smith.
"But I don't," barked Big Dick Brull.
"Remo, remove these men while we get to the bottom of this."
"With pleasure," said Remo, abruptly turning. He took Big Dick Brull by the collar and lifted him completely off his feet. Remo set him on the ladder and said, "Either climb up or I'll fling you up there like a bag of manure."
"But-there are pterodactyls up there."
"And there are angry taxpayers down here. Take your pick."
Brull started climbing.
The other agents needed more motivation, so the Master of Sinanju padded up to them and began pinching earlobes between incredibly sharp fingernails.
The unbearable pain sent the IRS agents scrambling up the ladder. The hatch clapped shut.
"Come on," growled Remo.
They went to Purcell's cell.
Remo was saying, "We know Purcell's favorite trick was to create illusions to frighten people. Purple pterodactyls were his favorite. Don't ask me why."
They looked through the window.
Jeremiah Purcell lay on his back staring at the ceiling, unmoving.
"Time to shake him loose," said Remo, lifting the latch bar.
Chiun warned. "Do not harm him, Remo. Remember the legends."
"Screw the legends," said Remo, kicking the door in.
Jeremiah Purcell didn't flex a muscle as Remo moved in on him. His fixed stare never left the high ceiling.
Not even when Remo reached down with both hands to grab the front of his straitjacket.
Remo's fingertips brushed the jacket front and kept going.
"What the hell!"
Chiun leaped to his side. "Remo, what is wrong with your hands?"
"Nothing."
But they had disappeared into the Dutchman's recumbent form as if into a pool of milk.
"An illusion," Remo said after fishing his hands around in the opaque human form. "He's not really here."
"The Dutchman has escaped!" shrieked Chiun. "It is a calamity."
Remo pulled his hands out, saying, "He couldn't have gone far. Not if he's making those images appear. He's somewhere near. We just gotta find him."
They checked every room. The ones that weren't empty held only ordinary patients. Except the cell containing Uncle Sam Beasley. He sat at his drawing desk, pretending to ignore them, but with his head cocked at a tilt that said he was listening to every word.
Remo, Chiun and Smith stood outside that cell, talking.
"Maybe Beasley saw something," Remo suggested.
"That is not Beasley," said Chiun very suddenly.
Remo and Smith looked at him.
"What do you mean?" asked Smith.
"Listen to his heartbeat."
Smith grew puzzled. Remo shut his eyes, listening.
"Normal heartbeat," said Remo. "So what?"
"That is impossible," snapped Smith. "Uncle Sam Beasley was outfitted with an animatronic heart after he was brought out of suspended animation."
"Then that's not Uncle Sam," said Remo.
"If not, then who is it?" asked Smith.
The glass in the cell door suddenly wavered as if it were a TV screen or a porthole shimmering in water.
When it cleared, Uncle Sam Beasley was gone. In his place stood Jeremiah Purcell-the Dutchman. He regarded the three startled faces with his neon blue eyes and began giggling.
"Let me at him," said Remo, lunging for the door.
"No," cried Chiun, blocking the way with his tiny body. "Do not let him taunt you into killing him and thus yourself."
"I remember what he did to me," Remo snarled, face twisting with emotion. "To Mah-Li. It was my wedding day and he took her place, the rat bastard. I stood beside my bride-to-be, not knowing that she was already dead and he had taken her place, using his mind tricks."
"That is the past, Remo," Chiun said, trying to catch his pupil's gaze and hold it.
"Shove it," said Remo. "Look at him. He wants me to come in."
"Yes! In the dimness of his mind he understands that if you strike him dead, you too will fall and he will have his revenge in death. Yours and his."
The Dutchman stood looking at Remo through the window, wild-eyed and expectant. He tittered.
Smith spoke up. "Remo, as your father, I order you-"