"If you talk to him, you will be able to ask for assistance in finding your roots," Chiun suggested. "Nice try, Chiun. But there's no way I'm answering that phone."
"Very well."
The phone continued ringing. The ceramic kettle began steaming.
"How long has this been going on?" asked Remo, taking a bowl of cold white rice out of the refrigerator and sitting down at the breakfast nook to eat it with his fingers.
"For the past hour."
"Could be important."
"If it were important, Smith would have hung up a half hour ago, and be even now winging his way to a personal audience with me," Chiun said.
"Smith may not have that kind of time," Remo pointed out, eyeing the phone. His expression grew tense.
The Master of Sinanju noticed this and said casually, "I am making longevity tea this morning. Is longevity tea satisfactory with you?"
"Longevity tea will do," Remo said, his eyes going to the telephone with every third ring.
"It will be ready soon," said Chiun, pouring the hot water into a green celadon teacup in the shape of a sleepy turtle.
"That ringing is starting to drive me crazy."
"You know what to do."
"That's right, I do," said Remo, walking over to the phone and lifting the receiver. He dropped it back again with a clattery clunk.
"Aiiiee!" Chiun screeched. "Ignorant white, what did you do?"
"I stopped the ringing."
"You insulted Emperor Smith!"
"How's that?"
"If we did not answer, he would naturally assume we are absent. But to hang up on him is unforgivable."
Remo returned to his rice. "Hey, I don't care what Smith thinks of me."
"Nor do I!" Chiun snapped. "But what if he wrongly concludes that I am the rude hanger-upper of telephones?"
"Simple. Blame me like you always do."
The telephone immediately began ringing again. Chiun's startled-wide eyes went to it, "Answer that!"
"No way. I'm retired."
"Then you will earn your keep by answering the telephone!"
"Not me," said Remo, chewing his rice into a liquid prior to swallowing it.
The phone continued ringing. It seemed to be getting shriller with each blast of sound.
At last the Master of Sinanju flung himself at it, crying in a loud voice, "Hail, Emperor Smith. Please accept the House's apologies for the incorrigible behavior my wayward pupil has just exhibited in hanging up, which I only this minute learned of upon returning from being out for the past hour."
"Master Chiun, we have a dire emergency," Smith said breathlessly.
"I will swoop to the site of this emergency and dispatch America's enemies without mercy, Emperor Smith. You have only to command me, for I will gladly do the work of two now that I alone serve you."
"The submarine carrying the gold is missing." Chiun was clutching the receiver in both clawlikc hands.
They clenched in unison. "Did the gold arrive safely?" he gasped.
"We do not know."
"Do not know!"
"Master Chiun, the sub with all its crew is missing."
"Not the gold! Remo, did you hear? My gold is missing."
Remo did not look up from his rice.
"We don't know that for certain, Master Chiun," Smith protested. "The sub may have encountered difficulties after it dropped off the gold."
"There is only one thing to do in this hour of darkness," Chiun cried, lifting a hand ceilingward.
"Yes?"
"I will call my village." And Chiun hung up. Immediately he dialed his personal international toll-free number, 1-800-SINANJU, first dialling the country code for North Korea.
A reedy old voice responded after a dozen rings, "This is the House of Sinanju. Whom do you wish dispatched?"
"Faithful Pullyang! Quickly, has the gold of America arrived yet?"
"No, Awesome Magnificence."
"Check the beach."
"I have just returned from the beach. There is no gold."
"If the gold arrives, call instantly."
"As you wish, Awesome Magnificence."
Chiun hung up, his face stiff. "You heard all?" he asked Remo.