"In daylight, if our man were wearing some kind of painted costume like this," Smith said, "you would see the black silhouette of a man. Almost like a shadow."
"Then he can't function in the light," Remo said.
"No. I don't see how he could," Smith agreed.
"Remember I told you to get dogs for the Emir's island?" Remo said.
"Yes. They're already there."
"Install floodlights, too," Remo said. "All over. Make the place look like Yankee Stadium during a night game."
"That's a good idea," Smith said.
The words were so strange to Remo's ear that he said, "Say that again."
"I said that was a good idea," Smith said.
"Now I can die happy," Remo said.
"Don't die at all. And don't let anyone else die," Smith said as he hung up the telephone.
Remo replaced the receiver and turned to Chiun.
"Three more."
"So I heard. I am not yet so old that my ears fan to function. The Emperor seemed worried."
"He is worried about the Emir," Remo said.
70
"We have never opposed an invisible man before," Chiun said.
Remo scowled. "Just a guy in a black suit."
"You can wish that," Chiun said. "But there are six people with only pieces left of their skulls who would not agree with you."
For all the mayhem that had been committed in the conference room of the Friends of Inventors, the room looked as if it had been sent out to the dry cleaners for washing and pressing.
The rug was spotless. Chairs were neatly placed around the table. Blackboards for chart presentations were neatly stacked against a wall.
The only note that seemed out of place in this symphony of order was the note written in paint on the conference table. "This is the last one I do for free."
Mauve, Smith had called it.
"Chiun," Remo said. The Korean did not answer. Remo looked up and saw Chiun standing at the light switch. He flicked it and the overhead chandelier lights went off. He flicked the switch again. The lights came back on.
Again. Off.
Again. On.
"Chiun, when you're finished inventing electricity, will you come here?" Remo said.
The Korean walked smoothly toward the table.
"See this. The purple paint. That's the note the killer left," Remo said.
Chiun shook his head. "No," he said.
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"That's not purple. It's mauve," Chiun said.
71
Remo decided it was mauve. But it still looked like purple.
"Why were you fooling around with the light?"
Remo asked. ¦ . ,
"I was trying to learn something," Chiun said.
"What was it?"
"I have not yet learned it," Chiun said.
Remo stepped into the outer office where the blonde receptionist sat preening herself. Stacked in front of her was a comb, fingernail polish, liquid makeup, mascara, and four different kinds of lipstick and lip gloss.
"Ain't it a tragedy?" she said to Remo.
"I can see you're having trouble bearing up."
"They wasn't bad. I mean, for those kind," she said. She breathed her chest at Remo, who wondered if good manners would dictate his fleeing in fright to the other side of the room.
"Who was here last night when this happened?" Remo asked.
"Just Willy, the janitor. He was cleaning one of the other offices. Want me to get him?"
"Please. And then I want you to go through your files," Remo said. "Get me the name and address of everybody who's been here in the past six months. Every client. And what they invented."
"Geez. That could take a half-hour maybe."
"Do it and I'll put you in for overtime," Remo said. "But call Willy first."
Willy the janitor had white hair, bifocals and a scowl that looked genetic.