"You did get it in writing, didn't you?" Remo asked.
"Er, the doctor in question has already . . . departed Folcroft. "
"Covering our tracks, were we?"
"There were complications."
"To what?"
"To . . . the doctor."
"Why do I get the feeling that you're hiding something here?" Remo said edgily.
"Because we are not," said Chiun. "And your backward white mind predictably insists that we are."
Remo sighed into his bandages, smelling his stale breath. He had a fierce case of morning mouth. "When do the bandages come off?" he asked slowly.
"The attending doctor believes that the healing should have started by now," Smith told him. "The bandages can be changed. Of course, you should not expect complete facial mobility just yet. Even though your healing powers are quite accelerated."
"Okay, I guess we might as well get it over with."
Smith opened the door and called out into the corridor, "Ask Dr. Gerling to come here. The patient is ready."
Chiun piped up, saying, "You will like the new you, Remo. "
"So help me, Chiun, if I end up looking like a refugee from a Hong Kong chopsocky movie-"
"It is better than looking like King Kong, as you formerly did," the Master of Sinanju sniffed.
The doctor arrived a minute later and asked genially, "How is the patient?"
"Angry enough to chew nails," Remo said.
"Well, this should not take long."
Remo listened as the doctor rolled some kind of wheeled object probably a tray of instruments-up to the side of the bed.
"I am bringing a mirror up to your face," the doctor told Remo. "Is that all right with you?"
"Just let's get this over with," Remo said testily.
The doctor began to snip away the gauze, pausing often to unwind the long strips. As successive layers came away, Remo saw two patches of light emerge. He made his pupils compensate for the brightness. If he had not been lied to, it had been a while since they had been subjected to light.
More gauze came away. Finally the last layer was peeled from his eyes and Remo could see them reflected in the mirror.
Dr. Harold Smith and Chiun stood out of range of his vision, somewhere behind him, so they were unable to see Remo's face.
Only a patch of pale skin showed here and there through the gauze. The doctor continued snipping and unwinding busily.
The nose emerged. Then the rounded plane of one cheek. And the point of the jaw.
Finally, as if a key thread had been yanked, the gauze abruptly dropped away and Remo Williams was staring at his naked, dumbfounded face.
The silence in the room was thick.
All at once Remo threw his head back and began laughing uproariously.
"What is it, Remo?" Smith demanded hoarsely.
"He's hysterical," said the doctor.
"I must see this," cried Chiun.
Before anyone could move, Remo turned around, jumping off the bed. He spread his arms like a stage performer, saying, "Behold the new Remo!"
Harold Smith gasped and turned as pale as the walls.
Chiun's tiny mouth made a circle of shock, his eyes narrowing into walnuts of inscrutability.
And although it hurt like hell, Remo Williams grinned from ear to ear, enjoying their horror-struck expressions.
Chapter 18
The first thing that Antony Tollini did upon being ushered into the glowering presence of Don Carmine Imbruglia was to fall down on his knees and beg for his life.
"Anything you want," he said, his voice twisted with raw emotion. "I'll do it, Don Carmine. Please."
Tony Tollini shut his eyes. He hoped if they shot him, it would be in the head. Quick.
Don Carmine Imbruglia was seated at the Formica-topped table not far from the great black stove on which a tiny saucepan of basil cream sauce bubbled pungently.
"You cost me fuggin' money," he roared.
"I'm sorry," Tony said, squeezing his eyes. A single transparent worm of a tear crawled from one corner and scooted down into the relative safety of his mustache.
" 'Sorry' don't fuggin' pay the piper," pointed out Don Carmine. "I ask for repair guys, I get stiffs. I ask for better repair guys, and I lose wise guys. Then I lose the hard-on disk. Now I gotta fuggin' hard-on. And because you're Don Fiavorante's nephew, I can't whack you out, which is a perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances."
"Thank God."
"But I can bust your balls," added Don Carmine. "Where's that testicle crusher?"
"Out bein' fixed," reported Bruno the Chef. "You broke it on Manny the Fink, remember?"
"That's right. I did." Carmine frowned down on Tony Tollini. "Okay, you can keep your balls. For now. But I gotta have satisfaction."
"What can I do to make it up to you?" Tony pleased.