Under the baleful glare of the First Lady's laserlike gaze, the President of the United States picked up the telephone.
"Get me the chairman of the Fed," he said.
Captain Yokang Sako bowed once deeply before the stern-faced Master of Sinanju.
"I am Yokang, captain of this unworthy vessel and I throw myself on your mercy, O Great Master of Sinanju."
"I have no mercy, Pyongyanger."
"I am not from Pyongyang, Oh Master, but from Hamhung."
"Even the dogs of Pyongyang look down their muzzles at those who dwell in Hamhung," retorted the Master of Sinanju. "I have two questions for you, less than dog. Why are you still alive and where is the gold of Sinanju?"
Yokang bowed again. "It will have it brought before you. None is missing. I swear this."
The parchment-stiff face of the Master of Sinanju failed to soften a particle. "Your pain in death will be brief only because of that, dung of dog."
"I did not know it was your gold, O Master."
"The submarine captain did not tell you?"
"He lied. I asked him specifically." "Where are the witnesses who can vouch for this?"
The witnesses were brought to the side of the Master of Sinanju. He asked each to recount the questioning of the U.S. submarine commander. All of their stories were the same. Each voice rang true in the morning calm.
"Perhaps he did not know the nature of his cargo," said Captain Yokang in a hopeful tone.
"He did not. But you should have. And for that oversight you must die."
"Make him tell you who put him up to it," said the white who had drawn near. He spoke astonishingly good Korean. For a white.
Yokang hoped he would keep his hands to himself, so he volunteered the information readily. "His name was Comrade."
"We've heard that story," the white said.
"It is the only name I know him by," Yokang protested.
"How do you know him?" demanded the Master of Sinanju.
"I know him by his voice when he is on the telephone."
"Bring this telephone and we will call him. I wish to hear this man's voice, and he hear my promise of his death."
The cellular phone was brought and the batteries replaced. The phone rang almost at once.
Captain Yokang answered, saying, "This is Yokang." "Captain Yokang," a warm, generous voice stated. "I have been calling at thirty-nine-second intervals for over forty-eight hours without a response."
"I have lost the gold," Yokang said simply, looking the Master of Sinanju full in the eyes.
"Clarify, please."
"Its true owner has come to reclaim it."
"Then you are already dead."
The white night tiger snapped the phone from his hands and said into it, "And you're next on the hit list."
"Could I interest you in ten times the gold you have just seized in return for a nonaggression understanding?" the warm voice wondered.
"No," said the white.
"Give me that," said the Master of Sinanju.
Into the phone he said, "I would not consider this offer for less than twenty times the amount of recovered gold."
"Chiun! You can't make deals with him. You don't even know who he is."
"I am your Friend," said the telephone voice.
And simultaneously the eyes of the Master of Sinanju and the white night tiger locked and dilated in recognition. They knew Comrade. There was obviously more to this than met the eye, Captain Yokang realized with a start. Inwardly he cursed himself for a fool. He had been a tool of larger powers all along and had played an exceedingly difficult hand badly.
"Where can this gold be found?" the Master of Sinanju was asking, suspicious voiced.
"Do we have an understanding?" asked Comrade.
"No understanding is possible until the teeth of the Master of Sinanju have tested the gold for softness and purity."
"I regret I am not in a position to ship the gold, currently being short of staff."
"We will come to the gold, then."
"Without an understanding, this would be poor business," said Comrade.
"Then prepare for your last hour, for Sinanju will hunt you down if it takes until the stars fall from the sky like salt."
"Can I get back to you on this matter?" said Comrade, and the connection was terminated.
The Master of Sinanju seized the telephone in birdlike hands. He stared at it as if to curse its very existence. His fingers squeezed. Plastic shards popped off, and the casing actually smoked as it broke and imploded into a blob of electronic parts.
The cellular phone went overboard with a distant splash.
Then the Master of Sinanju turned the cold, naked force of his baleful gaze on Captain Yokang Sako, who swallowed once and pulled out his trump card.
"You would not harm the son of Yokang Dong."
"I would send you back into the womb of your dog of a mother, if it would undo the calumny of your birth, cur of Hamhung."