All eyes turned to the source of that loud voice.
It was an old man, impossibly ancient, his eyes cold as agates. He was an Asian in native costume.
Antony Tollini stepped forward and said, "I am Antony Tollini. "
The tiny man bowed deeply. "And I am Chiun."
"Chiun?"
He lifted an imperious finger. "Chiun the Great."
"Great what?"
"Great computer genius, of course."
Tony Tollini's jaw dropped. "You?"
"I am pleased that you have heard of my renown."
"Excuse me," Tony said stiffly, "but I'm familiar with the world's leading experts in the field, and I've never heard of you. "
"That is because I did not wish you to," said the old Oriental called Chiun flatly. "But this has changed. I now seek employment in your tribe."
"Tribe?"
"Yes. This is a corporation, is it not?"
"Yes. "
"I understand corporations are very tribal. I, myself, once owned my own corporation."
"Would I know the name?"
"It was called Nostrum, Ink."
Tony gasped. "Nostrum! The Wall Street venture capital company? I read about you in Forbes. But I didn't know you were in information services."
"My mighty hand is everywhere," said Chiun.
"Are you by any chance . . . Japanese?" asked Tony Tollini suddenly.
The face of Chiun wrinkled with distaste, like a prune shriveling in stop-motion.
"Some have called me so," he said in a grudging voice.
"What was that?"
"It is one rumor," Chiun said through tiny set teeth.
"Are you or are you not?" Tony Tollini pressed.
The answer was a single word, low, tight, and sibilant, like a cobra cursing.
"Yes."
Tony Tollini's tight features broke out in a pleased smile.
"You," he said brightly, "are hired."
The old Oriental bowed smartly. "Of course," he said. "I am Chiun. Believed by some to be Japanese," he added bitterly.
"Can you leave right now?"
"Once we have made arrangements for my salary," Chiun said quickly.
"We'll give you three thousand per week and a three-hundred-dollar-per-diem for expenses," Tony said instantly.
"I will require one-half of my niggardly fee in advance," Chiun said stiffly.
"Advance? IDC doesn't do advances. You'll see your first check in two weeks."
"I will see half my fee now or I will seek employment elsewhere," Chiun said sternly.
"Let's take up a collection!" a technician shouted.
"Yes, let's!" cried another.
Wallets were opened and coins extracted from pockets. Like votaries before an implacable idol, the IDC employees laid the money before the sandaled feet of the Great Chiun, the Japanese genius.
The Master of Sinanju cast a cold eye down at the heaping pile of bills coins, and old cards lying at his feet.
"This will not suffice,' he said.
Groans came from the huddled technicians. A solid gold money clip sailed into the pile pinching a lone dollar bill.
"Take it. It's my bus fare home."
Chiun shook his aged head. "That is better, but you lack twelve dollars to satisfying my modest demands."
Tony Tollini nudged Wendy Wilkerson in the ribs.
"Get it out of petty cash," he hissed. "Fast. And have a car brought around. I think our problems are solved."
"You can't send him," Wendy shot back.
"Why not?"