"Shove forgiveness," Remo said. "Let's try business."
"And what is your business?" the sheik asked.
"The oil-eating bacterium. Where is it?"
"You should ask the woman," Fareem said. "It comes from her company."
"Right," Remo said. "And some's been sent to you. So where is it?"
"It has not yet arrived. I have not yet seen this wonderful invisible bug. But what interest is that of yours?"
"Because I want it before it's used. Before it messes up the world. I'm here to take it back to the States."
Fareem was about to answer, but stopped as two women in veils and gauzy robes brought in steaming brass pitchers of tea. They set them on a low table and poured tea for all four.
137
"Hold the cream and sugar," Remo said. The woman who stood before him pouring looked up and into his eyes while she filled his cup. Her eyes were as green as emeralds, and even under the veils, he could see that she was smiling. Even her eyes, spaced wide apart in her light golden face, smiled. And then she left.
Fareem sipped the steaming-hot tea, then placed his porcelain cup on the chair arm and leaned forward.
"You said, my friend, that you want this bacterium before it does something bad to the world. And I tell you that it can do nothing to the world to compare with what has already been done to my world."
Remo opened his mouth to speak, but the sheik raised an imperious index finger for silence.
"Once," he said, "my people were warriors, brave and fearless and just. Back in the time of the Master of Sinanju, many years ago, we were the best horsemen in the world. We could live as no other men could in these barren sands. Yes, we were ... if you wish . . . bandits. But these were our lands, and we resisted those who would use them, and we took their goods and only when necessary their Uves. And we took them openly in fair contests of arms."
"This is their tradition, Remo," said Chiun. "It is well known."
"All right, all right," Remo said. "So you were wonderful highwaymen. What happened and what's it got to do with me and the bug?"
"Oil happened," the sheik said. "The Hamidi were warriors. We battled other tribes for supremacy, other nations for glory. But no longer. The Hamidi—all of them except for a handful of my tribe—are warriors no more. They are bankers." He spat onto the sand. "They sit in offices growing sleek and fat. They are money lenders. Oil and its riches have made them give up the old ufe, and now they are soft and degenerate. Their hands have never held a sword; their arms have never cast a lance."
"Well, that's your argument with them," Remo said, 138
"but not with me. Work it out yourselves. Take it to the United Nations and let that freak show discuss it for six months."
"It is too late for discussion," Sheik Fareem said. "My brother, the king, knows that what they are doing is wrong, but they persist. The lure of oil and the gold it generates is too powerful for them to resist. The king—my brother—and his court have tried to tell me that they are the true raiders. That they, through their oil, are conducting the largest raid in our history, in the history of civilization. That they are raiding all the treasuries of the Western world."
"Sounds about right to me," Remo said.
"But it is wrong. What they are doing is not war, and it is not battle. It is theft and burglary. Not one of them can sit a horse. Not one of them can fight. The Hamidi, the rulers of this land since before there was sand here, are being ruined by the wealth of oil."
"Why'd you wait this long to get upset about it?" Remo said. "It's been going on for years."
"Is it not true that sometimes a tragedy must strike in our homes before we realize what a tragedy is? We never fear the lightning in the next valley, only that which flashes over our heads," Fareem said. "My son, Abdul. Raised to take my place, to lead men in war, to rule wisely and honestly. He went to join them." He crossed his arms over his chest like a pair of Sam Browne belts.
"Where'd he go?" asked Remo.
"He went to Nehraad, to the capital. He surrendered his stallion and rode in an automobile like the one that brought you here. He wished to become one of them." He spat again. "But I have brought him back. He will learn our ways or die."
"Well, I'm really sorry for your trouble," Remo said, "but it's your trouble, not mine. Why do you want the bacterium?"
"I received a message one day from a man who said he was my friend."
"There he is," Remo said. "Friend again." 139
"Who is this friend?" Reva asked Remo. "I don't know. He hired some guy to kill Chiun and me. Then he offered Chiun work. He's the guy behind this."
"This friend," the sheik said, "told me of this special germ and how it could destroy the oil which is destroying my nation. That is what I will use it for. I am going to rid this corner of the world of that vile black grease which is pushing us into oblivion as a people."
"You'll push the whole world into oblivion," Remo said. "Who knows how underground oil reserves are connected. You might turn the whole world's oil supply into wax."
"Men have lived without oil before," Fareem said.
"I just can't let you do that," Remo said. "I have to get that bacterium...."
"Anaerobic," Chiun said.
"I have to get that anaerobic bacterium and destroy it," Remo said. "Then I'll be out of .here."
"And I cannot let you have it," the sheik said.
"Then I'll have to take it from you," said Remo.
He felt, rather than saw, the motion of the two guards at the front of the tent as they turned toward him. But the sheik held up a hand and they stopped.
"You think you can do this?" Fareem asked Remo.
"I know damned well I can do this."
The sheik nodded. "Your government would be very upset if there were no more oil?"
"Not just my government. All governments. All people. Just because youi people have bred over it doesn't mean you have any knowledge of what it does, of how the people of the world depend on it."
"And you really believe that?" the sheik asked.
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Remo said.
"If you are not sure, why are you here?"
"Because it's my job. I was told to do it, so I'm doing it. If tomorrow they tell me to blow up your oil fields, I'll do that too. I don't give a damn. I just do."
"You are satisfied with living this way?"
"Yes," Remo said, and was surprised to find that he 140