"Meaning?"
"Meaning that you are an assassin who has been given the secrets of Sinanju. But Mr. Garbage does not recognize that this makes you something special, or would if you were a more worthy student. No. To him you are just another person with a pencil and one of those funny yellow writing tablets with blue lines. He sends you out to go looking for people, when looking for people is not what you should do. He will someday, if he sees you are not busy, start asking you to empty wastepaper baskets. He is a fool. And you are a bigger fool for serving him. Thank heaven that I have almost completed my history of Dr. Smith and his insanity. At least, in history, the House of Sinanju will not be regarded as a part of this foolishness."
The telephone rang and Remo yanked it to his ear.
"I want you to come and see me. In my office," came Corbish's voice. "And who authorized you to move out of the sanitarium?"
"I did," Remo said. "I decided it was stupid for me to hang around there. I was too visible."
"Before you do anything like that again," Corbish said, "you'd better check it with me."
"Whatever you want."
"Be here in half an hour," Corbish said.
Remo snarled and hung up the telephone.
"Don't forget to wear your little plastic badge," Chiun said.
When he reached Folcroft, Remo went over the stone wall, up the wall of the building and through a window into Corbish's office.
Corbish was not alone. Sitting across from him was the bosomy brown-haired girl Remo had seen that night in Broon's house. She was wearing what Remo regarded as a ridiculously wasteful black dress which almost but not quite hid her body, but should nevertheless have been blamed for even trying.
Remo was through the window, heading for the floor when he saw Corbish's guest. He curled his legs up before he hit, twisted his body, and landed softly, using the long curve of his right leg as a rocker. He rolled quietly to his feet.
Corbish saw the movement and looked up. The girl saw nothing, heard nothing, but spotted the surprise on Corbish's face and followed his gaze. Remo stood there in front of the open window, looking at both of them, feeling stupid.
"Hi, folks," he said. "Can I get you something from the bar? Scotch? Vodka? A Spritzer made with Snow White?"
"Who is this lunatic?" asked Holly Broon, turning back to Corbish.
"It's all right, Holly. He works for us." He stood and walked toward Remo. "Really, fella," he said. "The office door would have been perfectly adequate."
"I keep forgetting," Remo said.
"Holly, this is Remo. Remo, this is Miss Broon. You read about her father's recent death, I take it?"
It was very subtle, except that it did not fool Holly Broon who knew, as soon as she heard Corbish, that Remo was the man who had killed her father.
"Yup, I read about it," Remo said. "Sorry, Miss Broon."
"Kindly omit flowers," she said.
"Uh, yes," said Corbish. "Come outside, Remo, I have to talk to you a moment."
He took Remo's elbow and led him into a small room off Smith's main office. The room was decorated with a plastic-topped desk and two metal folding chairs. Corbish closed the door tightly behind them.
"You've got to take care of Smith. Now," he said.
"Why?"
"He killed a man today."
"Oh? Who?"
Corbish cleared his throat. "Somebody tracked him down outside Pittsburgh. Smith ran him over with a car."
"Who was this somebody?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," Remo said.
"He was, I guess, you'd call him a hoodlum."
"And why was a hoodlum going after Smith?" Remo's tone was indignant.
"Well, if you have to know, although I can't see why any of this concerns you, I put some people on his trail."
"That's swell," Remo said in disgust. "That's just swell. I really need that, right? I really need people cluttering things up? I'll tell you, Corbish. Smith would never have done it this way."
"What would he have done?" Corbish seemed really interested.
"He would have told me who the target was. If he knew, he would tell me where he was. And then he would get the hell out of the way and let me do my job."
"That's what I'm doing now," Corbish said. "Remo, go do your job."
"Arf, arf," said Remo. "Do you know where Smith is?"
"No."
"Corbish, let me tell you something. You're not going to last here."
Corbish smiled a thin-lipped smile. "I may outlive you."
"Maybe. But just maybe," Remo said. "But you're definitely going to outlive anybody who gets in my way. I don't want a gang of goons trailing Smith all around the country."
"I just thought they might be able to find him faster than you could."
"You leave that to me. No interference," Remo said.
"Whatever you want," Corbish agreed. "Can you do the job? No emotional attachments?"
"I do what I have to do," Remo said.
"Good. You're my kind of man," Corbish said. Remo shuddered. Corbish opened a side door from the small office. "This leads to the outside corridor. If you're shy about seeing the office staff, you can go through here. Do you have your badge for the gate?"