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grateful to you," he said. "Those two fellows would never have made it without you."
"Piece of cake," Remo said uneasily. He didn't want Foxx to have much idea of what he could do. It was always better to be underestimated. "Lucky accident."
"Mmmmm." He snorted another noseful. "Are you here for the treatments, Mr. . ."
"Remo. Just call me Remo. Yes, sir, Doc. Just one of the boys."
"I must say, you seem like rather an unlikely candidate for our clinic," Foxx said. "Most of our guests are afraid of impending middle-age. You appear to be enjoying the pink of youth."
Remo didn't like Foxx. There was something oozy about him. And the smell. . . . There was a smell at Shangri-la, ft was stronger around Foxx than anywhere else.
"No time like the present, I always say."
"But you haven't registered."
"I'm a late arrival, I guess."
Foxx cleared his throat. "One of our guests, Bobby Jay, recognized you in your heroic stand outside the window. He claims you visited him earlier today at his apartment."
"Well, yes. . . ."
"And that you were interested in military matters."
"Not really," Remo stammered. He was being found out awfully fast. He had wanted to approach Foxx slowly, to watch his movements, to follow him until the doctor led him to something of importance.
But that was gone now. Foxx knew something was up. "I guess I was mistaken," he said.
"I want to inform you here and now that neither this
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clinic nor myself have any connection to the military. Furthermore, outsiders are forbidden at Shangri-la." He scrutinized Remo with distaste. "What is your line of work, anyway?"
"Just odd jobs," Remo said. "You know, strong back, weak mind. I just heard things about this place, and I wanted to check it out."
Keep it low, Remo told himself. When the proper moment came, he would force Foxx into a position to move fast. But don't scare him now. Keep it nice and easy.
"And what have you discovered in your checking?" Foxx asked condescendingly.
"Oh, nothing much," Remo said. "Just the phones. Did you know all the lines were cut?"
"Really," Foxx said drily.
"Yeah. Think I could take a look at them? I'm pretty good with things like that. Maybe I could get them to work again."
"That won't be necessary," Foxx said. "They were cut on purpose."
"Why?" Remo asked innocently.
"Because we don't like strangers here." Foxx's tone became menacing. "They become tempted to communicate with those on the outside."
"Why'd you let me stay this long, then?"
"You were-shall we say, detained by one of our guests," Foxx said. "Rest assured, Miss Ponselle has heard about her behavior. And will hear even more."
Remo smiled. "But now the other guests don't want you to kick me out, either," he said.
Foxx sniffed haughtily. "Since you were so helpful to our two troubled guests, you and your aged friend will be granted special dispensation to remain for the Exit of Age ceremony tonight. However-"
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"The Exit of Age?"
Foxx made a deprecating gesture. "A small ritual we perform on the eve of the dispensation of monthly treatments. The guests like it. You may remain for the Exit of Age, but I'm afraid you must leave before tomorrow morning. This is an expensive clinic, after all. It really wouldn't be fair to allow you to remain alongside paying guests. You understand." He was so fatherly, so firm yet gentle, so practiced in his manner.
So phony, Remo thought. But keep it low. !f he wanted them out by tomorrow, the moment when he would take action was coming up soon. All it would take, then, would be a little push from Remo, and Foxx would go running like a scared rabbit. With Remo right behind him.
"Of course, I understand," Remo said in his best orphan-boy voice. "And I appreciate your letting my friend and me stay for the Exit of Age. We sure wouldn't want to miss that. No, sir." Just a little push.
"That will be all." Foxx said, dismissing Remo with a wave of his cocaine spoon.
Now, Remo thought. Push now. "Oh, by the way, Doc."
"Yes," Foxx said irritably.
"A girl I know is just crazy about you. She went out with you once."
"Really," the doctor said, uninterested.
"Yeah. She told me to tell you hello."
Foxx smiled tightly and nodded.
"She said she didn't even think you'd remember her, but I said you looked like a great guy on television. I told her, 'Irma,' I said, 'I just know he'll remember you. He looks like a great guy.' That's what i said."
Foxx stiffened noticeably.
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"Irma was sick for a while, but she's all better now. I knew you'd want to hear that. Irma Schwartz. Remember her?"
"That's imposs-" Fox began, rising from his seat. He swallowed once, and the flicker of discomfort was gone from his face. "That's too bad," he said smoothly. "Do give Irma my regards."
"I knew you'd remember," Remo said, smiling. It was time to twist the screws. "I hear you remember lots of things. Like what happened here in this house back in 1938."