The explosion tore the roof off the shack, sending ribbons of metal raining over the forest in a light show of orange sparks. A wall of dirt and rotted vegetation shot upward in a circle, then plummeted down. Smith covered his head. A rock fell painfully onto his thigh but he did not move. Overhead, a thousand tropical birds screeched as a stand of bamboos toppled and crashed like toothpicks.
And then it was silent.
Smith dusted himself off and walked back to the ruins of the shack. Mikulka lay faceup in the debris. His features were unrecognizable. He had no eyes and his hands seemed to have been shredded by the blast. He must have been holding the case of money even as he was firing at Smith. Salmon's body was ripped into three fat parts.
In the dust and smoke, a piece of paper drifted. Smith caught it. It was part of a counterfeit twenty-dollar bill, one of five thousand identical bills Smith had carried in the exploding suitcase.
Smith felt the texture of the bill. It was a good copy. Nearby, several small fires smoldered. He kicked one to life and when the flames were high enough, he took the address book from his pocket and threw it into the blaze. He waited until there was nothing left of the book except white ashes.
Then he stomped on the ashes and left.
Back in San Juan, he stopped at the Western Union office and sent a telegram to Mrs. Eileen Mikulka, care of Folcroft Sanitarium, Rye, New York:
DEAR MOTHER SORRY I CAUSED YOU SUCH GRIEF STOP AM SHIPPING OUT TODAY ON MERCHANT SHIP BOUND FOR SOUTH PACIFIC STOP NOT COMING BACK STOP I LOVE YOU STOP KEENAN.
Thirty words exactly. Smith thought about things like that.
Chapter 16
Waldron Perriweather III strode easily into the office of Dara Worthington at IHAEO labs and handed the woman his card.
"I'm here to see Dr. Remo and Dr. Chiun," he said.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Periwinkle, but they are not available right now," Dara said, handing him his card back.
"It's Perriweather, not Periwinkle, you egg-layer," he said acidly. "Surely you've heard of me."
"What did you call me?"
"I called you an egg-layer."
"I know who you are," Dara said suddenly. "You're the lunatic who's always making excuses for violence."
"And you belong in a nest," Perriweather said. "Get those two scientists out here."
"You are the crudest-"
"In a nest with orange peels and coffee grounds on the bottom. Get them, I said."
Dara pressed an intercom button that made her voice reverberate around the IHAEO complex.
"I think you are a matter for security, Mr. Perriweather: You understand? Security."
"I have no intention of discussing anything with a breeder. Bring on your scientists."
Inside the main lab, Remo heard Dara's voice. "Security," he said. "I think that's us."
Chiun unfolded himself from a lotus position atop one of the tables.
"About time," he grumbled. "No wonder scientists are always being given prizes. They deserve medals for their ability to endure boredom."
"I think some of them do more than sit on tables," Remo said.
"If they were afflicted with ungrateful pupils the way I am, they would be under the tables, not on them," Chiun said.
"Why don't we go see what Dara wants?" Remo said.
"If you wish. But if the two of you start noisily coupling in her office, I do not know if I will be able to control myself."
"I'll keep a lid on it, Little Father."
"See that you do."
"Ah. Drs. Remo and Chiun," Perriweather said. He handed his card toward Remo, who ignored it. He shoved it into Chiun's hand. Chiun tore it up.
"What seems to be the trouble, Dara?" Remo asked.
"This one called me an egg-layer."
Chiun chuckled. "An egg-layer," he snorted. "What a wonderful term for the white female."
Dara threw her hands up over her head in exasperation and stormed from the office.
"I am Chiun," the Korean said to Perriweather, nodding slightly.
"And you must be Dr. Remo?" Perriweather said.
"Just Remo will do."
Perriweather thrust his hand forward toward Remo, who ignored it. In a quick glance, Perriweather appraised the young man with the thick wrists. He didn't look much like a scientist. He looked more like a security man, probably around to protect the old Oriental. He smiled involuntarily. The late Dr. Ravits could tell them a thing or two about the value of security men, he thought.
But no matter. It just made his work easier than he had expected it to be.
"I greatly admired your work on eradicating the Ung beetle from Uwenda," he said.
Remo had appraised Perriweather too. The man was too smooth, too well dressed and too polished to be a scientist. But his fingernails were dirty.
"You read about it in the papers?"
"Yes," Perriweather said. "You see, I have some interest in entomology myself. Have a very sophisticated lab in my home. You should see it."
"Why?" Remo said coldly.
"Because as the two foremost entomologists at IHAEO, your opinions on an experiment of mine would be really useful."
"His opinion would not be useful at all," Chiun said, glancing at Remo. "He does not even know the correct clothing to wear. How could you expect him to appreciate science?"