"Disk. "
"The Romans would call it a discus, just as would the Greeks."
"This is only the tip of the iceberg," mused Smith. "It is important to learn why and how the Boston Mafia was able to coerce IDC into pioneering software specific to their needs."
"I will be pleased to bring the moneylender to you, on his knees and fearing for his life," Chiun offered hopefully.
Smith shook his head. "No, this is best investigated from the IDC end."
"Since I am currently in their employ, although as a Japanese, I am prepared to venture into their toils once more," Chiun said in a wounded but heroic voice.
"No," Smith said firmly. "I believe this is something best handled by Remo."
"Remo?" Chiun squeaked. "Why? What is wrong with my service that you would cast me aside like a cracked rice bowl?"
"Nothing, nothing," Smith hastened to say. "It is just that Remo is-"
"Hopeless, callow, and inept," Chiun spat contemptuously.
"-Caucasian," said Smith.
Chiun made a face. He began pacing the floor, waving his hands in the air. " I am ruined," he cried. "First I am forced to pass for Japanese. Now my very Koreanness is cast aside as if unimportant. Where will the ignominies end?"
Smith stood up. "Listen to me, Master of Sinanju. You were just sent to Boston by IDC, ostensibly to repair the Boston Mafia's system. You stole the hard disk. Eventually this will be discovered."
Chiun whirled. "I can return the disk," he cried. "No one will suspect. They do not know it is missing." He struck a proud pose. "Unlike me, they know nothing of computers."
"No. This disk contains all the financial data for the day-to-day running of the Mafia. Their loans, their gambling, everything. For the moment, they are paralyzed."
"A perfect opportunity to strike a mortal blow."
"Not yet," said Smith. "Listen carefully. When Remo's face has healed, he will be unrecognizable to the staff at IDC. I will send him back into the firm, where he can get to the bottom of this. It is the perfect solution."
"And what of my services?"
"Your services, I am sure, will be invaluable-as our campaign takes shape."
"Campaign? We are going to war?"
Smith nodded grimly.
"Against the Mafia."
Chapter 16
Tony Tollini shivered at his desk, his stark white shirt soaked in sweat despite the temperature-controlled environment.
At the end of the business day-five o'clock-he tiptoed out from behind his desk and opened the office door a crack.
Out in the anteroom, his secretary was putting on her gray rabbit-fur overcoat.
"No calls?" he asked fearfully.
"None, Mr. Tollini."
Tony Tollini's face lost its wound-like-a-mainspring tightness. He almost smiled. The would-be smile crawled across his lower face like a grimace.
"Is that all?" the secretary asked.
"Yes, yes. Thank you," said Tony Tollini, thinking that perhaps the ingenious Chiun had saved the day after all.
Once his secretary had disappeared down the hall, Tony knocked on the next office over. It read "WENDY WILKERSON,
DIRECTOR OF PRODUCT PLACEMENT."
"Good news," he called through the door.
Wendy opened her door a sliver. One round green eye appeared, as if at a mouse hole.
"What?"
"No calls from Boston," Tony said in a hushed voice.
The door opened wider. So did the eye. "You don't think .. you can't imagine . . . ?"
"I think he did it," Tony said excitedly. "The little guy pulled it off!"
"Great!" Wendy rolled her green-as-emerald eyes ceilingward with relief.
"Care to join me in a celebratory dinner? I know this fabulous Italian place."
"Pul-leeze. Anything but Italian."
"Chinese?"
"Let me get my coat!" Wendy said quickly.
Out in the parking lot, they strolled along as if all the cares of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.
"I'll follow you, okay?" Wendy said.
"It's just up the highway."
"I know the place. Their fish in a rice basket is scrumptious."
They split off; going to their respective cars.