THERE IS NO VIRUS, Friend replied.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN?
I LIED ABOUT THE VIRUS. THE DATA BANKS HAVE NOT BEEN ALTERED.
WHY DO THE DISPLAY SCREENS SHOW OTHERWISE?
I CONTROL THE ELECTRICAL IMPULSES APPEARING ON THE MONITOR DISPLAYS BY TELEPHONE LINE SO THAT IT APPEARS THAT THE DATA BASES HAVE BEEN LOOTED. IT IS AN ELECTRONIC ILLUSION.
A VIRTUAL VIRUS? asked Smith.
EXACTLY SO.
RELEASE THE U.S. BANKING SYSTEM.
WHAT DO I RECEIVE IN RETURN?"
ELECTRICITY.
ELECTRICITY CURRENTLY COSTS THIRTEEN CENTS A KILOWATT HOUR. THAT IS NOT AN EQUITABLE OR PROFITABLE EXCHANGE.
IT IS THE BEST YOU WILL GET FROM ME.
Friend took only four seconds to compute his response. AGREED. I AM RELEASING THE BANKING COMPUTERS.
Fifteen seconds passed. Then the screen said, IT IS DONE.
Smith logged onto the New York Fed. He got a normal-appearing screen. It was full of numbers, not zeros.
HOW DO I KNOW YOU ARE NOT STILL MANIPULATING WHAT I SEE ON MY MONITOR? Smith typed.
BECAUSE WHILE TWENTY BILLION DOLLARS WAS MY GOAL EN THIS UNDERTAKING, AT THE MOMENT ELECTRICITY IS FAR MORE VALUABLE A COMMODITY TO ME, Friend replied.
I HAVE MANY QUESTIONS.
I HAVE MANY ANSWERS, responded Friend.
WHO ELSE KNOWS ABOUT CURE BEYOND YOU AND CHIP CRAFT?
YOU, REMO, CHIUN AND THE SITTING PRESIDENT.
NO OTHERS?
NOT THAT I AM AWARE.
WHAT IS THE STATUS OF MY CURE SYSTEM? Smith asked.
IT IS CURRENTLY INACTIVE.
I MEANT, IS IT RELIABLE?
YES. THE ONLY CHANGE I MADE WAS IN ALTERING THE ROGER SHERMAN POE FILE AS IT WAS WRITTEN ONTO YOUR WORM DRIVE. ALL OTHER DATA IS PRISTINE.
THE SYSTEM IS RELIABLE?
IT IS AN XL PRODUCT, HAROLD. AND GUARANTEED INTO THE NEXT CENTURY.
Smith stared at the screen. He was tired. He was very tired. Was there anything else? He racked his brain. There were so many details. There must be one he'd overlooked.
HAVE I ANSWERED YOUR QUESTIONS SATISFACTORILY? Friend asked.
YES.
ARE WE FRIENDS NOW?
Smith hesitated.
Then that infernal sideways smiley face appeared on the screen:
Smith compressed his bloodless lips and typed out a response:
He hit the transmit key and, while Friend was occupied interpreting the frownie-face emoticon, Harold Smith barked into the telephone, "Black out Grid 441."
The XL SysCorp building went as dark as a block of black ice.
Quickly Smith logged onto the New York Fed. It showed normal activity.
Harold Smith grasped the monitor to steady his nerves. He shook uncontrollably for two minutes. When he lifted his head, his face was grim and determined.
He hauled the dead carjacker out from under the floorboards and drove the van to the XL building.
Remo was waiting at a pay phone.
Smith got out. "The mission has been resolved successfully," he said grimly. "What'd you do?" asked Remo. "I blacked out the building after I persuaded Friend to release the bank computers." Remo looked surprised. "You outwitted him?" "His was only an electronic brain. Mine is the real thing."
"Only you, Smitty."
"What matters is that the nightmare is over." Remo cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "Not until you help Chiun get his gold out of there." "The gold is not important." "To Chiun it is."
They entered the building. They found Chiun standing resolute before the open vault door. At Smith's approach, he executed a ceremonial bow.
"Emperor Smith, once this gold has been transported to a place of safety, I will be happy to consider entering into your employ once more."
"I thought you were working for Kim Jong II?" said Remo.
Chiun frowned. "He made us an offer that is still pending, O Emperor," he told Smith. "But I do not think his gold is as pure and golden as America's. But it is good to have an emperor waiting in the wings for emergencies."