"I am not kidding," Remo said, folding his arms. He made no move toward the keyboard.
His back to the three security men, the chauffeur mouthed a single word. The word was "Try. " To which he added a silent "Please."
Because he was getting tired waiting for something to happen, Remo shrugged and said, "Okay, I guess a quick looksee won't hurt anything. Who knows? I might get lucky."
"What'd I tell you?" the chauffeur said, facing the security team once more. He grinned nervously. "He was kiddin'. A little joke. To relieve the tension. He's a good guy. I like him. Go to it, Remo. Show us your stuff."
Remo addressed the silent PC terminal, lifted it in both strong hands, examined his own reflection for a moment, and then brought the screen to his ear. He began shaking the terminal briskly.
"Hey, none of the other guys done that," one of the security men pointed out.
"This is an advanced technique," Remo told him. "We shake until we hear something rattling around in here. You'd be surprised how often the trouble is a paperclip that got in through a vent."
This made perfect sense to the assembled F and L Importing employees. They all went very quiet, listening.
Soon, something rattled.
"Hey, I heard it!" the chauffeur cried. "You hear that? Remo found it. Attaboy, Remo."
"Shhhh," said Remo, still shaking the PC terminal.
Another element began to rattle. Then a third. Pretty soon, under his relentless shaking, the PC began to sound like a majolica rattle.
Remo stopped.
"What's the verdict?" Bruno the chauffeur asked.
Balancing the PC in one hand experimentally, Remo frowned. Then he lofted the PC over their heads. It seemed to float in a shallow arc. Every eye in the room followed it like ball bearings drawn to a horseshoe magnet.
"Hey!" one yelled.
The four men lunged for the floating PC like startled linebackers. They were too late. The PC landed in a wastebasket in one corner, where its picture tube shattered.
The quartet froze in place, looking at the shattered PC in disbelief.
Only when Remo coolly said, "What'd I tell you? Beyond repair. "
Slowly they turned around. Their faces were bone-white. Their eyes were hard and glittering. Their limp-with-helplessness fingers made slow, determined fists.
Mechanically three of the men surrounded Remo. The fourth-the chauffeur-lurched to a plain door as if his legs had turned to wood.
"The box is broke," he called in.
A raspy voice said, " I know it's broke."
"Now it's really, really broke."
"What happened?"
"Guy broke it.'
"Break him."
"He's a paisan."
" I don't care if he's Frank fuggin' Sinatra! Get rid of him. And get on the phone to that Tollini. Tell him no more screwups. Send me a Jap. I heard Japs are good at computer-try. I want a Jap."
"You got it, boss."
The chauffeur came back. Woodenly he said, "The boss says you gotta go."
Remo shrugged unconcernedly. "So I go."
They went. Remo didn't bother to wait for the car door to be opened for him. He got ahead of the escort and opened the rear door himself.
The others hesitated. One said, "What the fuck. From the look of him he'd probably just pee in the trunk." Two of them got in on either side, sandwiching Remo between them.
The remaining pair took the front seat. The car backed out of the alley.
"You know," Remo said, "this kinda reminds me of Little Italy, down in New York."
"It should," said one of the security men.
"Too bad about that computer," Remo said sympathetically. "But broke is broke."
"Yeah," a second man growled. "I'll always remember you for sayin' that."
They didn't take him back to the airport. Not that Remo expected that. Remo didn't know where they were taking him and he didn't care. He hoped it was secluded, wherever it was.
He assumed it would be. They weren't about to try to kill him on Boston Common. And he didn't want their screams to attract attention.
The exit said: East Boston.
Remo knew they were close to the airport because the thunder of jet engines came with monotonous regularity.
As the black Cadillac pulled into the back lot of a Ramada Inn, Remo asked innocently, "What's this?"
"Your lodgings," said the man at Remo's right.
"Where you're going to sleep tonight," said the man to Remo's left.
They both laughed with the humorless rattle of windup toys.
I expected better accommodations," Remo remarked. "After all, I am a treasured IDC employee."
"You wait here," said the man to Remo's right. "We gotta make sure the accommodations are satisfactory."