"If you will not obey your true father, stubborn one," Chiun said, "obey your adopted one."
Remo just looked at Chiun and Smith, as if doubting their sanity and his own. The tension began going out of his face.
"We can't leave him here," Remo protested. "He could break out at any moment."
Smith shook his gray head seriously. "If he had that ability, Remo, he would have done it."
"But he did. We hauled him back, thinking he was Beasley."
"Did he resist?"
"Well, no," Remo admitted.
"His mind may be coming out of his autistic phase, but apparently not enough for his Sinanju skills to return."
"Only a matter of time," warned Remo, not taking his eyes off the Dutchman's wan, taunting face.
"All in due time."
"What say we check?" Remo said tightly.
"Master Chiun will examine Purcell."
Reluctantly Remo stepped aside.
The Master of Sinanju strode into the cell. The Dutchman retreated. Chiun stalked him about the room until Jeremiah Purcell found himself trapped in a corner covered by drawings.
A quirk of fear came into the Dutchman's pale face. He trembled from head to toe, setting his long cornsilk hair shimmying.
Without warning, Chiun spun Purcell in place, exposing the brass hasps that pinioned his sleevewrapped arms to his back. A slashing fingernail broke them in a vertical line. The canvas sleeves dropped loosely at his sides.
"Strike me," Chiun dared.
The Dutchman only giggled.
Chiun began weaving lines and circles before Purcell's pallid face. Each feint brought a flinch, but no return blow.
Chiun paused, frowing. When his fingers licked up to squeeze a nerve on the Dutchman's shoulder, there was no resistance, no blocking blow. The Dutchman wilted, unconscious.
"No mind that retains the sun source," Chiun intoned, "would allow the body it controls to be touched in anger."
His arms disappearing into his kimono sleeves, the Master of Sinanju emerged from the cell. "He is harmless, except for his crazed mind," Chiun added solemnly. "Let us go."
They walked away, Remo reluctantly, after Harold Smith barred the door.
Remo snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute. If that's Purcell, where's Beasley?"
"Escaped," said Smith, his voice flat.
"Damn! That must have been Beasley in the car that tried to run us over."
"We will undertake the search for Beasley later," said Smith grimly. "I must deal with the IRS first."
"Want me to fetch them?"
"Just Brull. The others can cool their heels on the roof."
"Maybe it'll rain," said Remo. "And the IRS will get soaked for a change."
They were in Harold Smith's office. Smith threw himself into his high-backed chair behind the desk with the black glass top.
"I have explained that this is a FEMA site," Smith was saying. Big Dick Brull stood nervously between Remo and Chiun. He was staring at Chiun, who still wore the black kimono with the orange markings that made him resemble a monarch butterfly.
"You're the butterfly," Brull blurted out.
"And you are the taxidermist."
"I'm no taxidermist."
"You got that right," said Remo. "A taxidermist leaves the skin."
Brull swallowed hard.
Smith was working the telephone.
"This is Smith. My password is Site Forty. I require independent confirmation of wire transfer number 334 to the Grand Cayman Trust emergency account."
"One moment," a crisp voice said loud enough for everyone to hear. Smith had engaged the speakerphone function.
A moment later the crisp voice said, "Confirming wire transfer number 334 to Grand Cayman Trust. Date is September 2, this calendar year. Amount is twelve million and no change."
"Confirm transfer fully authorized by FEMA," said Smith.
"Fully."
"That will be all. Thank you," said Smith.
He looked up, regarding Big Dick Brull coldly.
"Those are just voices," Brull said defensively.
"You now have the FEMA wire-transfer locator number to take to your superiors. If you dare."
Brull swallowed hard.
"Of course, since it was the unreported twelve million that showed up in the Folcroft bank account that precipitated the seizure of Folcroft Sanitarium, it might be more expedient to pay the director of the Lippincott Savings Bank a call. I am certain he will confirm that the money was transferred in error and does not belong in the account. They will wipe it from their computers once this has been established to the satisfaction of everyone. And if you are smart, you too will wipe it off the IRS records."