"My friend Carmine, in answer to your question, said, 'I'm gonna fuggin' kill the cogsugger if he don't make it right with me. After that, I'll fuggin' see.' "
"I'll take the job," said Tony Tollini instantly.
Don Fiavorante Pubescio smiled broadly. "I knew you would. Now, go. Carmine is waiting. Give my regards to your mother, such a sweet woman. There are so few like her anymore. Addio."
Chapter 17
Remo Williams woke up with his face on fire.
Not knowing where he was, unable to see, he found his center, in Sinanju believed to be the solar plexus.
The long years of training came into play. Remo got his breathing under control first. Letting the pumping of his lungs serve as a focus point, Remo willed the fear of the unknown to drain from his mind. His adrenals stopped flooding his system. He redirected the blood to his face, the only portion of his anatomy that hurt.
At first, the agony increased. His facial nerves felt like traceries of acid. That told Remo he was injured. Then the pain began to ebb and he concentrated on controlling it.
In a way Remo could not understand, but which was as familiar to him as walking, he sent the pain signals coursing out of his facial nerves and down his neck to his torso, and then, radiating in ever-diminishing waves, to his extremities.
The burning of his face ebbed like fading music. He felt a dull ache in his arms and legs. When his fingertips and toes tingled as if mildly burned, he knew he had his nervous system under control.
Remo lay supine a moment, listening. There were no sounds of consequence. He tried to move.
His arms came up. No bones broken. He brought them to his face. His fingertips hovered over his stiff throbbing features momentarily, as if afraid to touch the wounded flesh.
Remo brought them down.
Touching a rough but soft material, he felt around his face. Bandages!
Then he remembered. Smith's office. The ambush. Oblivion.
Remo bolted to his feet.
"Chiun! Goddamm it, Smith! Where are you?"
Outside, through a door or a wall, a worried voice cried, "Summon Dr. Smith. The patient has wakened."
Feet ran away, making the slippery sounds of soft shoes on polished tile.
Remo assumed he was in Folcroft, somewhere.
Sitting up on the side of his bed, he folded his arms and waited. He was not happy.
When the Master of Sinanju and Harold Smith finally arrived, they were accompanied by a doctor or a nurse. Remo couldn't be certain. His ears registered the unique heartbeats of Chiun and Smith, but the third was unfamiliar.
"How do you feel?" asked a self-assured male voice.
"Like breaking the necks of certain parties," Remo growled.
Harold Smith spoke up. "Would you excuse us, doctor?"
"Of course. I will be outside." The unfamiliar heartbeat went away.
"Remo," Chiun squeaked plaintively, "thank the gods you have survived your ordeal unharmed. When Emperor Smith informed me that he had gone ahead with this horrible thing despite our express wishes, I was stricken as never before."
"Cut the crap, Chiun. I know you were in on it."
"Never!"
" I didn't keel over in Smith's office because I caught a chill from the open window," Remo said bitterly.
"It is possible. One never knows," returned Chiun in a subdued tone.
"Smith, do you have anything to offer to this?" asked Remo tightly.
"The tumor has been successfully removed," said Smith.
"Then why am I tricked out like Claude Raines?" Remo wanted to know.
"Since you were under," Harold Smith explained in a voice that was not comfortable with itself, "we saw the necessity of going ahead with the surgical adjustment of your features." " I prefer to think of it as an improvement," Chiun sniffed. Behind his gauze mask, Remo's eyes widened in shock.
"You didn't! Tell me you didn't!"
"The procedure was done according to my express instructions," Smith said levelly.
"But I assisted," added Chiun pointedly.
"Smith, did you stay for the operation?" Remo demanded.
"Actually, no," Smith admitted. "I saw no need."
"Has anybody peered under these mummy wrappings and checked out my face lately?" Remo asked worriedly.
Smith replied, "The truth is, Remo, that you've been out for almost two weeks now. It was a precaution we felt necessary so that your face could heal more quickly."
"In other words," Remo said sourly, "for all you know, I look like Sonny Chiba."
"I hardly think that--"
"Emperor Smith," Chiun said loudly, "if my son has been burdened with the face of a Son of Chiba, I will insist upon a new doctor of plastics. This is not acceptable."
"Oh, no," Remo groaned. "You didn't tell the doctor what to do, did you, Chiun? Tell the truth."
"I . . . advised him," Chiun admitted slowly.
"He was under strict instructions not to do anything unorthodox," Smith insisted.
"I hope you got that in writing in case we have to sue for malpractice. "