Remo shrugged. Hassam stretched out like a cat, scratching his belly and nodding his head sleepily.
"Hassam! Amfat, my husband, what has come over you?"
"Mmpht," Hassam said, curling into a ball.
"He has gone mad," Mrs. Hassam whispered dramatically. "My mother was right."
"They always are," Remo said.
"If I had married Ali El-Jabbar as she suggested, I would have real jewels now, not cheap paste imitations. I would not have been chained to a thieving drunkard besotted by vice." She turned an accusing finger on Remo. "You forced him into this shameful condition, didn't you?"
"He hasn't been drinking anything," Remo said, poking experimentally at the motionless Hassam. It was all so peculiar. "Smith," he whispered. "Chock Full O' Nuts."
"What are you saying? You are as crazy as he is," Mrs. Hassam shouted.
Remo grabbed the coffeepot from the butler. He opened the lid. The steam wafting from the surface of the liquid stung his eyes and burned his nose. "There's something in this coffee," he said.
Hassam snorted awake and stretched out his arms. "Cof-fee," he chanted.
Remo stuck a finger into the coffee and tasted it.
Bitter. Odd. Hypnotic. "Heroin," he said.
Hassam's eyes opened a fraction of an inch. "Heroin?"
"In the coffee."
Mrs. Hassam gave out a terrifying yell. "A drunkard and a thief, and now my worthless husband is a drug addict as well!" She grabbed Remo by both shoulders and shook him. "What can I do? Help me to do something with this criminal before he attacks me in lust."
"Uh... just a second, Mrs. Hassam," Remo said, carefully removing her viselike fingers from his shirt.
"This is terrible!"
Remo nodded in agreement. "Yes, ma'am. Very bad. I'd say you were in great danger right now."
"Oh," she gasped, backing away a step.
"If I were you, I'd go somewhere right now where there isn't any chance that he'll see or hear you. The basement ought to do it. Just stay out of danger until I can subdue him."
She stole a quick glance at the little man snoring peacefully on the divan.
"Oh, they're unpredictable in this state, ma'am. You can't tell what they'll do next. A kitten one minute, a tiger the next."
Mrs. Hassam faltered backward as far as the doorway. "To... the basement? Would not my bedroom do as well?"
"I'm afraid that's not far enough out of the danger zone, ma'am. Quick! I think he's coming out of it."
With a final shriek, Mrs. Hassam careened out of sight.
Remo shook Hassam awake. "Hassam. Sheik. Listen to me."
"Cof-fee," the old man intoned.
"No coffee. Just tell me where your supply of heroin is."
"You want heroin?" Hassam shook his head slowly.
"No good. Coffee is much better. Besides, business is rotten."
"It doesn't matter."
With an effort, the little man sat up and looked around warily. "Where is Yasmine? She knows nothing of my business activities."
"I sent her to the basement."
Hassam stared at him. "Is she dead? Did you kill her, too?"
"No. She's all right. I just told her to go, and she went."
"Just like that?" His voice was incredulous.
"Yeah," Remo said impatiently. "Now where do you keep the stash?"
Hassam appraised Remo with a long, unfocused glance. "I suppose you will kill me if I don't tell you."
"Worse. I'll release Yasmine."
"It is on a freighter in Miami Harbor. The Maid of Mallecha is the name of the ship." He spelled it out. "But why do you want heroin? It is worthless."
"The police will still be interested."
"You are with the police?" Hassam asked, startled.
"No."
"Oh. That is good."
"I'm an assassin."
Hassam looked into his eyes for several moments. At last he spoke. "Cof-fee," he said.
"Relax."
"You are not going to kill me?"
"No."