In spite of the dishonest depiction of his ex-wife, the picture was a permanent part of Ronald Davic's living room.
Davic picked up a remote control from the overflowing magazine rack next to his ratty old chair. As he slurped his Coke, he snapped on the TV to watch the news.
The local news was the usual garbage. Abused pets, missing children, assorted fluff pieces. He ordinarily just listened, opting to stare at the picture of the family he had lost a lifetime before. But this night something seemed different. For some reason the blathering of the Vox anchorman was more compelling than usual.
It was the light. Somehow the light that flashed at him from the TV screen seemed brighter than normal. He dragged his eyes from the photo down to the screen.
His eyes instantly glazed over.
He saw them. On some level he saw the commands: Ronald Davic... Ronald Davic... Ronald Davic...
His name repeated over and over, interspersed with the commands that were meant for him and him alone.
He stared for ten minutes. Finally, he shut off the TV.
Sitting at the edge of his chair, Detective Ronald Davic took out his gun to make absolutely sure it was loaded. When he was sure it was, he reholstered the gun and left the room.
His keys were on the kitchen table. He pocketed them as he shrugged on his coat. Leaving the three bags of groceries on the table, he left the apartment for the short drive to Folcroft Sanitarium. Where he would kill its director.
Chapter 30
The mountain sentinels of the Great Dividing Range jutted up across the eastern horizon, undulating waves of solid rock locked in time.
Red streaks of fire lit the sky and burned the ground. The sun was setting on Robbie MacGulry's sprawling Queensland estate. The brilliant colors of the evening sky were fading into the darkest night of the Vox CEO's life.
"You sure about that?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Rodney Adler replied. "The station is in ruins. The cryptosubliminal equipment has been destroyed."
MacGulry knew when the station had gone down. It was the same time the dormant computer room beneath his mansion had hummed to life. As he had suspected, Friend had sought refuge beneath Robbie's feet.
"You cut the phone lines like I told you?" the Vox chairman asked.
"We took down all but your direct one from Wollongong this morning. We cut that one as soon as you instructed us to. I confiscated and destroyed all cellular phones. Your estate is effectively cut off from the modern world."
A flicker of a smile crossed MacGulry's tanned face.
"Not out of the woods yet," he said. "But it's a start. Tell the Robbots to stay alert."
"Oh ...ah, yes. The Robbots."
MacGulry's brow darkened. "You told me they were deployed. Is there a problem?"
The Robbots were Robbie MacGulry's last line of defense. An army of mercenaries, all were coldblooded killers who had had every last vestige of human emotion drained from their frozen hearts by months of relentless exposure to subliminal brainwashing. They would fight to their last drop of blood to protect the Vox CEO.
Rodney Adler wilted under his employer's harsh glare.
"No problem, Mr. MacGulry," the Englishman said, with a smile so broad it made Robbie MacGulry want to stick his dentist in a box and mail him to London.
"Better not be," MacGulry threatened. "Get to work."
Rodney Adler tripped over his own feet in his haste to get back inside.
For a few more moments, Robbie MacGulry watched the setting sun. It was something he rarely had time to do. At long last he stepped back inside his mansion, sliding the glass doors behind him.
Two minutes after he'd gone inside, the faint sound of an approaching plane rose up from the growing twilight.
IT TOOK five tries for Remo and Chiun to finally find a pilot who didn't try to kill them on sight. Their small Cessna soared across the vast plains of Australia's Great Artesian Basin. Remo forced the pilot to land on the long, lonely road that led up to the gates of MacGulry's estate.
As they walked up the road, they saw a line of Subaru Outbacks parked inside the split-rail fence. A hundred men stood at attention before the cars.
The men were muscled and tanned. They wore short pants, khaki flak jackets, hiking boots and bush hats, the brims of which were buttoned up on one side. Each man held an assault rifle. Their eyes were glazed.
"The Running Line?" Remo suggested as they walked toward the gate and the waiting group of men. "Better for enclosed places," the Master of Sinanju replied.
"Could use the Ellipse Within the Ellipse. We haven't used that one in a while."
"Perhaps," Chiun said, frowning. His nose crinkled as he smelled the air.
Remo had caught the scent, as well. It was being carried to them on the faint breeze.
The air stank of beer. Lots of it. As he watched the line of waiting men, Remo suddenly realized why. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said all at once.
"Holt, hoo goes theya?" one man before them slurred as Remo and Chiun approached.
The army pointed their guns. Some of them managed to point them somewhere that was almost within the vicinity of where Remo and Chiun were standing. The rest aimed at fence posts and car tires and into empty prairie. The barrels weaved along with the men behind them.
"They're pie-eyed," Remo said.
"In Australia it is called being patriotic," Chiun replied blandly.
"I said hoo goes theya," hiccuped the lead Robbot.
"Larry Hagman's liver," Remo said. "Move it, drunky."
"I don't much like your attitude, Sheila. Open slather time, cobbers!" the head Robbot yelled to his companions.
A hundred rifle barrels burst to life. Fence posts and tires exploded in sprays of wood and rubber. "Fair dinkum!" some of the men cried as they began accidentally shooting one another.
"Strewth!" they shouted when they realized how good a job they were doing killing one another. "Cor blimey!" they yelled when they discovered-to their horror-that they'd accidentally shot holes in their tinnies of beer. The survivors threw down their guns and began lapping up damp dirt.
"Give me strength," said Remo Williams.
He and Chiun swiped a drivable Outback from the line of parked cars. As the Robbots slurped dirt, Remo and Chiun sped up the road to Robbie MacGulry's mansion.
ROBBIE MACGuLRY couldn't believe what he was seeing.