"But you are the only human being in the building."
"You, you tricked me."
"No, I implicated you. You lured fourteen urban youths to their deaths with the promise of a job. I have it all on digital tape."
Chip swallowed, his eyes starting.
"Now you know the second reason I installed the gas line," said Friend.
Chip slumped in his chair. "What do you want?"
"Your continued cooperation in return for your usual cut of the profits, stock options and an ironclad guarantee the sealed room will never be opened."
"The police will search the building."
"The room was designed to defy detection. It will not be discovered unless I open it electronically."
"I don't feel well," Chip said weakly.
The office door popped open, and his secretary bounced in and in a bright, eager voice asked, "How about a little virtual nookie?"
Chapter 23
The fishing boats of Sinanju huddled on the spreading slick of oil over the sunken submarine Harlequin like ducks clustered together for warmth.
In the largest boat Remo and Chiun were talking.
"This is some fishing fleet," Remo was complaining.
"That is why the rent is so cheap," said Chiun.
"Rent? What rent?"
"Why, the rent I am charging you for their use."
"This is a freaking rescue operation."
'' Payable in gold," said Chiun.
"I don't have any gold."
"I will accept a portion of your share of the gold when it is found."
"Damn it, Chiun. This is no time to play Shylock."
"Are you reneging on our deal?"
"We don't have a deal."
Chiun lifted his voice. "Ahoy, brave sailors of Sinanju. The rescue is hereby canceled. Return your boats to shore, and you to your well-earned beds."
"All right. All right," Remo said in exasperation. "How much?"
Chiun's face became a bland mask. "One third of your share."
"Too much."
"Very well, one ingot per rescued sailor." "How many ingots in my share?" "That depends." "On what?"
"On how much gold is recovered."
"Why do I have the feeling you're gypping me either way?"
"Because you are an ingrate of uncertain parentage," snapped Chiun.
"Fine. It's a deal. Now listen. You and I go down, tapping the hull every six feet. Mark any spot where you hear tapping. Then we come back, compare notes and go down to do the rescue. Understood?" "This is agreeable," said Chiun. "Okay," said Remo, standing up. "Let's go." Remo went over the side making hardly a splash. Carefully Chiun turned in his seat, tied his kimono skirts up on a knot and put his bare legs over the side. He eased himself into the water with such grace that faithful Pullyang, at the tiller, hadn't realized he was gone until Pullyang looked and saw nothing.
Remo took the submarine's bow and worked aft while the Master of Sinanju started at the stern and worked forward to the amidships area. They used their bare hands to make sounds on the steel plates of the hull. The harsh sounds traveled back and forth in the cool, conductive waters.
Where they heard tapping in return, they used their fingernails, hardened as tempered steel by lifetimes of diet and exercise, to mark each spot. Remo made an R while Chiun, with quick, steel-scoring flashes of his fingernails, carved out the ancient symbol of the House of Sinanju—a trapezoid bisected by a slash.
When they rendezvoused on the sail forty minutes later, Remo flashed two fingers while Chiun lifted only one. Chiun frowned and went over Remo's end of the sub, seeking more tapping sounds. Remo decided to do the same on the aft end.
Twenty minutes later, with their oxygen running out, they regrouped again. This time Chiun flashed two fingers and Remo three.
Chiun made fists and puffed up his cheeks like an annoyed blowfish. Remo pointed upward, and they squatted down on the sub's deck and uncorked like human springs, shooting toward the surface.
They popped up in the center of the clustered fishing boats. Pullyang spied them and called over, "What news, Gracious Master?"
"Remo found three bangs and I four."
"Liar," hissed Remo.
"Prove it," said Chiun.
"One of yours doesn't exactly count, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"You got the banging that came from the compartment that sailor we rescued already told us about."
"It is my hope that it is filled with American sailors," Chiun said airily. "For each means one gold ingot of yours that will belong to me."
"Let's not count our gold until after have a few sailors up and breathing," Remo warned. "Now listen. We have five contacts. The best way to do this is the way they used to escape subs in the old days- through the torpedo tubes."
"If they could escape that way, would they not have done this already?"