"And the organization has no influence with the police?"
"Yes and no. Especially not now. I think he's in trouble."
"He reminds me of a Caliph of Samarkand who was so afraid to show weakness he would not even confide in his assassin, who was, of course, at that time a Master of Sinanju. When fortune turned against this Caliph, the Master was unable to help him. So too with Emperor Smith. We have done what we could do and we can help him no longer."
"He's in deep trouble."
"Because he did not confide in you," Chiun said, "and therefore it is not our responsibility. You have done everything you could for this silly man and now you must take your talents where they are properly honored. I have always thought that Sinanju was a waste for this man."
"As there are some things you cannot get me to understand, Little Father," Remo said, thoughtfully, "so too are there things that I cannot explain to you."
"That's because you are stupid, Remo. I am not stupid."
Remo looked at the large lacquered steamer trunks.
"We won't have time for those. We'll have to get them later."
"I am not leaving my meager possessions to go looking for an unworthy emperor who has not trusted the House of Sinanju."
"I'm sorry," Remo said. "I'll have to go myself."
"You would abandon a gentle aging man in the twilight of his golden years?"
"What twilight? What golden? What gentle?" asked Remo. "You're the deadliest assassin on earth."
"I provide honest service for honest proper tribute," said Chiun.
"Goodbye," said Remo. "See you later."
Chiun turned away.
CHAPTER THREE
Undoubtedly there would be roadblocks and a statewide search for him, so Remo decided to use a passing tractor trailer until he was out of South Carolina.
He rode in between new Chromacolor televisions and automatic defrost refrigerators in the back of the trailer, black as a cave. He could not hear the driver in the motor cabin up front, and the driver had not heard him enter. Once out of the state there was little chance he would even be stopped. To a saddeningly large degree the only way fugitives got caught nowadays was if they told someone who they were and where they were, or if they were collared committing a major felony, and their fingerprints were checked out properly with FBI files in Washington.
Once in North Carolina, there would be no worry.
Remo listened to the crates of appliances straining against their metal strappings. Something was wrong with the organization, terminally wrong, if it could not even get him out of a little jail cell.
That first frantic phone call over an open line to his motel room, that really had been Smitty's voice, and that was something Smitty never would do unless all his other channels had fouled up.
Maybe it was better anyway that the organization was coming apart. What had it done? Put a temporary crimp in a landslide that was taking the country with it anyhow? Maybe you couldn't change history. As Chiun had so often said: "Your greatest strength is knowing what you cannot do."
When the truck stopped and Remo heard two drivers get out talking about food, he slipped from the trailer and saw he was in the outskirts of a large city.
It was night and the offensive odor of greasy meat frying felt like it came from an aerosol can. He was near a large diner, and as he stopped a cab was just pulling out. The painted sign on the side of the taxi said, Raleigh, North Carolina.
"Airport," said Remo, and within twenty minutes he was at the small Raleigh-Durham airport and within an hour on a Piedmont Airlines flight to New York City, where he rented a car at LaGuardia, and by three A.M. he was approaching the high stone walls of Folcroft Sanitarium in Rye, New York.
The one-way windows of Smith's office overlooking Long Island Sound seemed like dull yellow squares in the early morning blackness. The lights were on. No guard stopped him at the gate. The door to the main building was open. Remo skipped up a flight of darkened stairs and down a corridor to a large wooden door. Even in the darkness, he could see the staid gold lettering:
"Dr. Harold W. Smith, Director."
The door was unlocked. It led to a room of desks where Smith's secretaries worked during the day. Remo heard a familiar high-pitched voice come from Smith's inner office. It vowed eternal support in these times of trouble. It lauded Emperor Smith for his wisdom, courage, and generosity. It promised a bloodbath for his enemies.
It was Chiun.
"How'd you get here so fast?" asked Remo in Korean. Chiun's long fingernails stopped in the midst of an eloquent gesture. Smith sat behind the large, well-polished desk, his dry face precisely shaved. He wore a dark suit with vest and a fresh tie and a spotless white shirt.
Three a.m. The man was facing an obvious disaster and he looked as if he had only paused for a coffee break in a Wall Street office. He must have been the only baby ever to toilet train himself in the first week of life. Remo never remembered seeing Smith without a crease in his pants.
"It is of no importance how I got here. I must extricate you from this idiot emperor and his disaster," Chiun answered in Korean.
"What about your trunks?"
"I have more invested in you. Ten arduous years without so much as a mite of repayment for the great gifts of knowledge I have bestowed upon you. I will not let you just run off with my investment."
"If I may interrupt," said Smith, "I think we have important business. I don't understand Korean."
"Neither does Remo, really," said Chiun in English. "But it is our thing to know things to serve you better."
"Thank you," said Smith. "Remo, I have what may be shocking news to you. We're not only just in trouble but I've had to-"
"Shut down most of the systems," Remo interrupted.
"Let him finish," scolded Chiun.
"Shut down most of the systems," said Smith.
"You see," said Chiun to Remo. "Now you know."
"We're virtually inoperative," Smith continued. "We could have survived those ignorant investigations of the CIA and FBI where we have linked systems that they don't know about. But after that gruesome insanity with the congressman, they started looking all over and they stumbled onto a few of our systems. I phoned you direct, hoping you wouldn't rely on one of our special phone numbers."
"I did."
"Lucky you didn't get picked up."
"I did," said Remo.
"Kill anyone?"
"Of course," said Chiun.
"No," said Remo.