"I allowed myself to be known as a Japanese," Chiun said, drawing near.
"As I explained to you earlier, you were undercover. In disguise. No one will know it was you."
"I was forced to identify myself to ignorant persons as Chiun, former chief of Nostrum, Ink, the mighty corporation of which everyone has heard."
"That was quick thinking. I am very pleased."
"And so I am branded in some eyes," Chiun continued, "a lowly and avaricious Japanese instead of a graceful Korean. My ancestors would weep tears of bile if they knew of this."
Smith said nothing. He was absorbed in his manipulation of the mysterious disk. Letters were resolving themselves.
"How does Remo fare?" asked Chiun, changing the subject. As always, the white was unreachable when communing with his machine.
"He is fine. Just fine," said Smith, his pinched face almost the color of the glowing screen. A sickly phosphor green.
When he had the whine muted, Smith tapped several keys.
He got a sign-on screen. It read:
LANSCII
Smith would have grinned, had smiling been in his nature.
The screen winked out, was replaced by another image.
This one read:
***LOCAL AREA NETWORK***
***SICILIAN CRIME***
***INFORMATION INTERCHANGE***
Dr. Harold W. Smith stared at this with a stupefied expression as the screen was replaced by a user-friendly menu.
Frantically he exited the system and rebooted. Again he got the sign-on. Then the second screen. He stabbed a pause button.
The glowing green letters stared back at him mockingly.
***LOCAL AREA NETWORK***
***SICILIAN CRIME***
***INFORMATION INTERCHANGE***
"Good God," said Harold Smith hoarsely. He disengaged the pause.
"What is it, Emperor?" asked Chiun, coming around to Smith's side of the desk to see what had so amazed his emperor. If it were important enough, it might be something to throw in Smith's face at the next contract negotiation.
Smith did not reply. He was going through the system. His eyes widened. At one point he input the name VIG.
A screen came up, showing a simple ledger accounting format. It was headed VIGORISH.
"Vig? Vigorish!" said Smith, his lemony voice tinged with disbelief.
" I do not know these words," remarked Chiun with interest.
"'Vigorish' is a slang term for the interest paid in usurious loans," Smith explained, not taking his eyes from the screen. "Sometimes shortened to 'vig.' "
"Of course. The Roman they call the boss is a moneylender. He offered me five for six."
Smith nodded. "A shylock."
Chiun shrugged. "It is not so bad. Brutus was infamous for demanding sixty-percent interest."
Smith looked up quizzically.
"Brutus?"
"The thug who betrayed Caesar."
" I see." Smith returned to his screen. He paged through the data, squinting harder as he concentrated. He discovered that the LAYOFF program was simply a method of tracking the laying off of high-risk sports bets. An insurance scheme, as he had deduced.
Half-forgotten underworld slang came back to him. He found programs covering running numbers, a method of randomly selecting floating-dice-game locations and what appeared to be an accounting of the daily take on supermarket cash registers. It was an old trick, Smith knew. A manager would be strong-armed and coerced into installing a checkout line unsuspected by the parent chain. All proceeds from the phantom register would go into criminal hands.
All the old, familiar patterns of racketeering were present. Each of them made super-efficient by IDC software.
Finally he exited the system and leaned back in his cracked leather chair.
Letting out a sigh of unhappiness, Smith said, "What we have here is a software system specifically configured to serve the needs of the Mafia."
"Ah, yes, the Black Hand," said Chiun. "I know of them. Bandits and thieves without any shred of honor."
"They have not gone by that name in a long, long time."
"But their ways have not changed," said Chiun, wondering if that remark were an aspersion cast upon his great age. Whites were notoriously disrespectful of age. Even old whites such as Smith.
"Now they have," said Smith tightly. "This computer system could be the first step to bringing the Mafia into the next century."
"Then I say we dispatch them swiftly," Chiun said quickly. "Eliminate them in this century so they do not live to enjoy the next."
Smith shook his head. "No, not that way. If this catches on, it could spread to the Yakuza and the Colombian drug lords. There is no telling where it might stop."
"A few select assassinations could have a desired effect on the rest," Chiun pointed out.
"Master Chiun," Smith said suddenly, "did you notice any other equipment adjacent to the terminal you extracted the disk from?"