Wendy frowned. "What else would it be?"
"Evidence. "
Slow realization made Wendy Wilkerson's features go slack.
"Oh. That's right. They would see it that way, wouldn't they?"
"Up in Boston, you get hard time for possession of backup copies," Remo said.
"No need to get smart. This is serious."
"This is loony tunes," Remo snapped. "Let me see if I can piece the rest together. When the disk crashed, Tollini sent people to fix the disk. Only it wouldn't fix. And they never came back. How did he keep all those missing people from attracting too much attention?"
"He only sent south wing CE's. When they started to balk, he hired fresh faces off the street, and then shredded their resumes and denied they had ever shown up in the first place. What were the police to do? This is IDC."
"Their jobs, for one thing."
"Oh, I know it sounds horrible," Wendy said quickly.
"It is horrible. People have died."
Wendy threw up her hands. "I know. But what could we do? Tony hoped to get it straightened out, and then he was going to take the pilot program to the board. A foothold in a billion-dollar-a-year business enterprise. They would have made him a board member for sure."
"You don't mean to tell me the IDC board would have signed on to servicing the Mafia?" Remo asked.
"Why not? They're an untapped market and we're marketdriven. Besides, we have a saying here. IDC can do no wrong. Corporately speaking, of course."
"One last question and I'll leave you to the horrors of sixtywatts bulbs and brown-bagging it."
"You mean you're not going to rub me out?" Wendy said in surprise.
"Maybe next visit," Remo said dryly. "Any idea where this Boston outfit is now?"
"No. And I'd rather not know."
"Spoken like a true corporate tool."
"You probably consider that an insult, right?"
Chapter 21
Harold Smith sat in stunned silence as Remo Williams finished his account of Wendy Wilkerson's story.
Remo lounged on a long couch by the Folcroft office door, which was closed. Chiun stood off to one side, coolly ignoring his pupil.
"IDC actually approached the Mafia?" Smith blurted when he finally found his tongue.
"That's what she told me," Remo said. "I'd say that's reason enough to shut them down for good."
Smith shook his gray head. "No. Not IDC. They're too big. Besides, this is a clearly rogue operation. The board appears not to be involved."
"From what I heard," Remo said dryly, "the board doesn't exactly go out of its way to police their own backyard."
"We must locate the current Boston Mafia headquarters," Smith decided.
"What's the big deal? You've got your handy computer. Get on it."
"It is not possible, I am afraid. If I had a phone number, I could enter their system. But we have no idea where they are. And believe me, I have been searching. Wherever they are headquartered, it is not an obvious place."
"Okay. Then Chiun and I will go to Boston and start turning the town upside down. We fish out a few wise guys, shake them up, and get them to lead us to the main nest.
Smith fingered his immaculately shaven chin in thought. Behind the transparent lenses of his rimless glasses, his weak gray eyes were reflective.
"If we go in and destroy them, even to the last man, that would not be enough," Smith said.
"Of course it would," snorted Remo.
"Silence, round eyes," snapped Chiun, addressing Remo for the first time. "Of course it would not be enough."
"Oh, yeah?" Remo growled turning. "Since when are you against solving a problem by laying waste to an enemy?"
"When my emperor gleans a better way," Chiun retorted. "Tell the round eyes, Emperor. Bestow upon him the virtue of your brilliant sunlight."
"Oh, brother," Remo groaned.
Smith said, "From what you tell me, Remo, this is being sanctioned and directed by Don Fiavorante Pubescio, out of New York City. If we simply annihilate the Boston Mafia, Don Fiavorante will move the LANSCII pilot program elsewhere or rebuild in Massachusetts." Smith made a thoughtful face. "No, we must first so discredit the LANSCII system in Pubescio's eyes that he abandons it completely. Then we can swoop down on the Boston mob."
"I vote first a preemptive sweep," said Remo.
"I vote against," said Chiun.
"What's eating you anyway, Chiun?" Remo demanded.
"You never called me."
"Your freaking phone was busy! You were cooking up that plastic-surgery scheme with Smith, remember?"
"You obviously misdialed," sniffed the Master of Sinanju.
"Repeatedly?"
"Deliberately."
"Have it your way, then," Remo said disgustedly. He stood up. "By the way, Smitty, you were right. This flashy suit did the trick. Wendy thought I was a hood."
"The woman was obviously a canny judge of character," Chiun sniffed.