The Robbots were nearly all dead. One had even managed to run himself over. He was wedged under the front wheel of an Outback, a beer can clutched in his dead hand.
"You made them all drunks!" MacGulry roared.
"Yes," Rodney Adler admitted nervously. "In retrospect perhaps it would have been wiser to hide the cryptosubliminal signal that was supposed to rob them of their souls in something other than a Toohey's beer commercial."
Flinging the small TV to the floor of his study, MacGulry wheeled around. He ripped a rifle from where it was mounted on the wall behind his desk. When he spun back around, there was a murderous glint in his eye.
Adler offered an anxious smile, flashing crooked teeth.
"Going hunting?" he asked, his voice a squeak. With a low growl, MacGulry slapped the gun into Adler's hands.
"Stop 'em or I'll stomp you," the Vox CEO commanded.
Adler's face sank in relief. "Yes, sir!" he said. He scurried from the room.
MacGulry grabbed the mini-TV off the floor. The remaining living Robbots had linked arms and were singing an off-key version of "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport." One was using a gun barrel for a microphone. He accidentally stepped on the trigger and blew the top of his head off.
"Wankers," MacGulry muttered to himself. Dropping the handheld television to his desk, he raced from the study.
IT TOOK ANOTHER ten minutes for Remo and Chiun to reach the Vox CEO's mansion. It was a sprawling, whitewashed affair full of columns, clapboards and flowers.
Remo circled the drive, stopping at the front portico.
"Better stay here, Little Father," he suggested.
"You are not leaving me in the car like some nuisance canine," Chiun sniffed as he climbed down next to Remo.
"Not even if I crack a window?" Remo said quietly. "Look, Chiun, this is a cakewalk. Zap MacGulry, pull the plug on Friend."
"Get out of my way, imbecile," Chiun insisted.
Remo sighed. "Suit yourself. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to fillet me again."
"Shut your blabbering mouth and I will consider it," the old Asian replied thinly.
Forcing his way past Remo, he flounced up the front stairs of Robbie MacGulry's mansion like a flapping green butterfly. Remo hurried up behind him. The instant they pushed open the big front door, a voice boomed over hidden loudspeakers.
"Breaking and entering," Robbie MacGulry called. "I'm within my legal rights to defend my home, mates."
"So much for the element of surprise," Remo said.
"Hush," the Master of Sinanju hissed.
He was scanning the walls for surveillance equipment.
"Cameras and microphones everywhere," Remo whispered as they slipped stealthily up the downstairs hallway.
Both men knew that on the other end of the tangle of wires was not only MacGulry, but a far more dangerous foe.
"You could have had a sweet deal if you just went along with this, Remo," MacGulry called. "But Friend says you're not the kind who goes along, are you?"
"Shouldn't you be out taping 'World's Sexiest Car Chases VI'?" Remo asked the walls.
"Bad attitude," MacGulry's disembodied voice replied. "How about you, Chiun? My offer still stands."
"Sinanju works for men, not machines," Chiun announced coldly.
"You know what Friend is?" MacGulry asked, surprised.
"A three-times ass-kicked hunk of silicon that was built to maximize profit," Remo said. "About to be crashed time number four." He peeked around an open door.
The room beyond was empty. Both Masters of Sinanju continued on.
"I worked with him thirty years. I only just found out what he was for sure two days ago," MacGulry said.
"Three cheers for the Aussie Einstein," Remo said.
They passed several more rooms. All were empty. Passing through the door at the end of the hallway, they found themselves in a big, restaurant-style kitchen. MacGulry's voice preceded them into the room.
"You don't like Friend," MacGulry said over the speakers. "I understand that. You fellas have a history. What would you say to my job offer if I told you I could help you get the bastard once and for all?"
"I'd say blow it out your didgeridoo," Remo said. Through the kitchen door they entered a huge dining room.
"Don't be too hasty," MacGulry said. "Vox-BCN is just the start. With the cryptosubliminal signal I can have it all. One hundred percent of the world's media markets. I can hypnotize people into buying no other magazines or newspapers but my own. Every movie Vox puts out will gross over two hundred million. My network will be the world's network. They'll be building thousand-foot statues of me in Sydney Harbour. It's your last chance. You wanna work for a smith or a king?"
"Not interested."
"Did you say two hundred million gross?" the Master of Sinanju asked slyly.
"We're not interested," Remo insisted. "Besides, I can never forgive Australia for foisting Yahoo Serious on the rest of the world."
"Too bad," MacGulry said. "If we can't deal, you die. Adler!"
MacGulry's booming voice rattled glass throughout the mansion. As the vibrations shook the foundation, a very frightened man stepped through a side door into the dining room.
Rodney Adler's bony knees knocked. His face was ashen. The Englishman raised his Lee-Enfield rifle. Gulping, he took aim at Remo and Chiun.
"I am-" Adler began. The gun rattled in his shaking hands. "That is, you should- That is, Mr. MacGulry wants-"
"For God's sake," Robbie MacGulry bellowed, "shut your stammering British hole and fiya!"
"Oh, yes," Adler said. "Yes, of course. Of course, fire. Yes. Oh. Where did I put that rifle?"
The Lee-Enfield was no longer in his hands. He was certain it was there a moment ago. For an instant he glimpsed something he thought could be the rifle. It was sailing out the dining-room window. He truly wished the gun was still in his hands, because a face suddenly appeared before him. It belonged to the American that Mr. MacGulry had wanted dead. The face was very nasty-looking. Much worse in person than the computerized version that Rodney Adler had been beaming via satellite all over the world.
Seeing that face up close, with a promise of doom in those deep-set eyes, Rodney Adler reacted as a true son of Britain born and bred at the twilight of the Empire.