Chiun's seven lacquer trunks were stacked in front of the destroyed villa. Remo was inside, changing into his spare set of clothes. His other garments were stuffed into the wastepaper basket.
Chiun came into Remo's room and stood inside the door, his face stony. "You promised you would get me another television," he said icily.
"I didn't exactly have the time, Chiun." He winced as he pulled his T-shirt over his taped ribs.
"If you had kept your promise, I could have been watching television now."
"The taxi's coming in five minutes."
"Five minutes," Chiun mocked. "You act as if five minutes were nothing. Whole empires have collapsed in less than five minutes. Mountains have been leveled. Geniuses are conceived in less than five minutes."
"Only if their parents are into quickies," Remo said.
"You are disgusting!" Chiun shrieked.
"He sure is," Sidonie's voice boomed from the hallway. "Dis place even more of a mess than before. Lookit this." She fished Remo's shirt out of the wastebasket. "How I supposed to wash your clothes what's in the trash?"
"Throw it out, Sidonie. We're leaving."
"Already? Why you want to go so soon?"
"Business," Remo said. "Sorry you had to make the trip over. I couldn't reach you on the phone."
"Oh, I ain't been home. De police, they keep me at the station all night, eating de doughnuts and drinking de rum. They nice fellas. One of 'em got his horns out for Sidonie, too."
"Yeah?" Remo smiled.
"He plenty fat," Sidonie said.
"That's good. I guess. Uh— you didn't mention anything about—"
"I don't say nothing, Mr. Remo. I know you like them secrets. I just tell the police I done it all myself. Fight the Dutchman in the boat, everything. The fat one, he like that plenty," she chortled.
"How about the girls?"
"I tell them if they talk, I kill them dead. They don't say nothing. Except the Chinee girl. She laying it on good about the Dutchman. 'He a killer,' she say. 'He a maniac.' The cops, they have to shoot her fulla dope just to quiet her down."
"And Fabienne— is she okay?"
"Why don't you ask her yourself?" She jerked her head toward the kitchen. Fabienne stepped forward, her face breaking into a big smile.
"I just wanted to tell you that everything's going to be all right," she said. "The police are already arresting some of the shipyard executives. My lawyer says I'll probably get my father's money back and the company, too."
"Hey, that's terrific," Remo said. "What are you going to do with the shipyard? Sell it?"
"I'm going to run it," she said. "My father would have wanted that." She touched his shoulder. "Of course, you could help me if you like."
Remo kissed her gently. "Thanks, Fabienne, but I'm a bust at office work. You'll do just fine on your own."
"Remo..." Her eyes were searching his face. "What do you do? For a living, I mean?"
Chiun cleared his throat. "I see the taxi," he said. Outside, a black London-style cab honked and skidded to an abrupt halt.
"He a salesman," Sidonie filled in.
"But on the cliff that night. And in the cave. You killed—"
"Oh, salesmen very handy guys to have around," Sidonie shouted over her.
Fabienne looked out the window. The cab driver was loading Chiun's trunks onto the roof of the cab. "Are— are you leaving?" she asked.
Remo inclined his head once, sadly.
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Fabienne kissed him softly on the cheek. "I'll miss you," she said.
"Yeah."
"He be back, little darlin'," Sidonie said, clapping a pudgy hand on Fabienne's back. "Ain't that right, Remo?"
"Sure. Why not?" he said, but his words didn't ring true. Smith would never send him back to Sint Maarten. It would be too risky.
"No, you will not return," Fabienne said kindly, sensing his false optimism. "But it is just as well. Later it would not be the same. I will make a new life for myself here. You too, wherever you go. We will be different people, with different dreams. But I loved you, Remo."
He smiled. "You know, you only look like a French pastry," he said, rumpling her hair.
"Remo, the taxi," Chiun called from outside.
"Well, I guess this is it," Remo said. "No more Dutchman, no more Remo."
"I don't know about that," Sidonie said cryptically.
"Huh?"
"Come with me. I think maybe you want to see this."
"But the taxi—"
"Dat Jacques. You give him fifty cent, he wait a week."
Jacques was back in the taxi, drumming on the horn in a lively reggae rhythm. Remo walked over, handed him a hundred-dollar bill, and asked him to wait. Chiun followed him back through the villa, shouting.
"What have you forgotten now? When Emperor Smith asks why we have missed the airplane, do not expect me to come to your defense."
"Sidonie wants us to see something."
Ahead, the two women walked side by side toward the sea. Remo took pleasure in the sight of Fabienne's auburn hair blown to the side by the breeze, like a shiny copper flag. In the sunlight, the slim outline of her legs showed through the fabric of her skirt.