Face hard, Remo said, "Make you a deal, Smith."
"Yes?"
"Use your computers to find my parents, and I'm back. Just to wrap up a few loose ends."
"I can't promise results."
"I want an honest effort."
"You have that." "What about me?" asked Chiun plaintively.
"Master Chiun, the gold of Friend is yours for the taking if you can locate and destroy this infernal menace. I ask only a reasonable finder's fee of ten percent—to replace CURE's lost operating fund."
"Done!" cried Chiun.
"Go to Harlem, and the headquarters of XL SysCorp. Destroy every mainframe you find there. But this is important. Leave one functioning."
"Why?" asked Remo.
"Only Friend can restore the banking system. We need his cooperation, or America is lost. Call me when you have Friend isolated."
"Got it."
"I'll continue working on it from this end. With luck, and God willing, we will succeed."
"We will succeed whether God wills it or not," said Chiun, slamming down the phone. "Come, Remo. We must hurry."
"What about my gold?"
"We will-divide it equitably later."
"Uh-uh. I know you. If I don't bring it back with me, I'll never see it."
"Very well. Take what you can carry and we will be off."
In the end Remo decided he could comfortably carry only three ingots in his hands.
When they got to Sunan International airport, they were told there was only one airworthy Tupolev-134 jet, which flew the Pyongyang-to-Beijing route, with stops at Chongjin, Moscow, Irkutsk, Omsk and Sofia, Bulgaria. Not always in that order.
"Fly us to Kimpo Airport," Remo said. "We'll catch a KAL flight from there."
"I would have to defect to do that," the pilot who doubled as booking clerk pointed out .
"Wanna defect?"
"I will need gold to live in the south," the pilot said, eyeing one of Remo's bars of gold.
Remo slapped the bar on the counter. "Let's not hold up your new life."
When they saw the state of the jet, they had second thoughts.
"Little Father, you take your usual seat over the right wing and I'll take the left. That way if either wing starts to fall off, we can warn each other in time to bail out."
Chiun nodded. "At last you understand these airplanes for what they are—no more trustworthy than the banks you Westerners think reputable because they are built of hard stone."
Chapter 32
The struggle for the economic future of the United States of America began when a white mobile communications van of the Federal Emergency Management Agency rolled up Harlem's Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., Boulevard and pulled into an alley within sight of the XL SysCorp corporate headquarters one block east.
Harold Smith squeezed out of the driver's seat and into the gear-packed electronics nest that filled the van's entire rear.
Deploying the roof satellite dish, he booted up the computer and switched on the twenty-three-line GTE Spacelink mobile telephone system.
In rapid succession, using a series of unimpeachable cover identities, he ordered NYNEX to sever all outgoing telephone service to XL SysCorp.
Smith received a confirmation callback within fifteen minutes.
Then he reached the head of Consolidated Edison on vacation in Aruba.
"I told my office not to forward my calls," the Con Ed official complained.
"This is a national emergency," returned Smith.
"Who is this?"
"I told you. General Smith with the joint chiefs. We are expecting a terrorist situation in upper Manhattan. I require discretionary authority over all electrical service in and out of Harlem."
"If I give it, will you leave me alone and out of the loop?"
"Guaranteed." "You have it."
Smith took down the name and number of the Con Ed supervisor in charge of Manhattan's electrical lifelines.
"What do you want done?" he asked when Smith reached him.
"Stand by. I will tell you what I need when I need it."
Smith put the man on hold. The sun was going down. All he needed now was darkness. And Remo and Chiun.
The sight-seeing service helicopter pilot at Kennedy International Airport was adamant.
"I need a major credit card or cash. No checks." "Look, pal, this is an emergency," said Remo. "Well, if it's an emergency that makes it different." He gestured to the two gold bars in Remo Williams’ hand and said with a straight face, "Emergencies cost a bar of gold."
"Robber," said Chiun.
Remo slapped the bar of gold down on the counter. The helicopter pilot lifted it. Seemed heavy enough.