"Poor Remo," said Chiun, shaking his head sadly. The white tufts of hair over each ear seemed to swirl with the subtle violence of the gesture.
Smith was surprised that Chiun wasn't more upset. The Master of Sinanju had long ago developed a paternal affection for Remo, and for his part, Remo looked on the old man as the father he never had. There was something unsettling about Chiun's easy acceptance of the situation.
"One of the Thermopolis kidnapping victims has been recovered," Smith continued. "I have had her rerouted to Folcroft. In our conversation Remo suggested some kind of new drug is being used on the Truth Church followers, which could explain Remo's fainting spell. We may be able to learn something from the girl that will help Remo. He will be here within the hour himself."
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Chiun's hazel eyes locked on Smith's, freezing the CURE director in his tracks like a frightened deer in the blazing headlights of an oncoming car. He spoke only two words: "Truth Church?"
Wary of those two menacing eyes and of the deadly power behind them, Smith tensed. "Yes," he said hesitantly. "At my insistence Remo returned to the Truth Church yesterday."
The life seemed to drain from Chiun's face. "My son," he said softly. "He is truly ill?"
Smith nodded. "I am sure he will be fine," he said haltingly.
Chiun's hazel eyes flared like twin candles.
"This child you spoke of—was there an odor about her?"
"The girl from Hot Springs State Park? As a matter of fact, there was. A very strong sulphur smell. The doctors think that it may be a side effect of the drug she was taking. I have placed her in this wing, two floors above."
"The Remo with whom you conversed, did he hack?"
Smith frowned. This was a puzzling line of questioning. "Hack?" he asked, confused.
"Did he clear his throat thusly?" Chiun hacked loudly.
Smith shrugged. ' 'Yes, now that you come to mention it, Remo did display coughing spasms. He mentioned that he had inhaled some of the drug-laden smoke."
"It is no drug," Chiun said, and there was a deep sadness in his voice. "What were the last words spoken to you by Remo?"
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Smith considered a moment. ' 'He said, 'Sinanju is mine.
Chiun's eyes strayed forlornly to the faded carpeting.
"We were to leave your employ." The words of the Master of Sinanju were soft and far away, bitter waves in a sea of regret. ' 'Only a matter of days, and we would be free."
"The contract was still in force," Smith countered. "I was within my rights to send Remo back on assignment."
"Do not speak to me of rights," Chiun hissed. "My son is lost."
Smith cleared his throat uncomfortably. He understood Remo and Chiun's relationship, but he also understood his job. And that job involved placing his two operatives at risk whenever missions required it.
Smith assumed his most reasonable tone of voice. "Master Chiun, if Remo has become infected with something at Ranch Ragnarok, it is possible that we can find a cure. His fainting might only be a result of blood loss, nothing more. I will let you know when he arrives. If he is ill, I am certain he will appreciate a visit from you."
Smith issued a farewell nod and left the room.
For a long while after he had gone, Chiun sat motionless on his coarse tatami mat. He no longer hummed.
"This was one of the greatest days of my life," Michael Princippi enthused over the telephone. He had coordinated with the networks to get America's latest political guru, Mark Kaspar, on television as quickly
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as possible to comment on the departures of the various congressmen and senators. Unbeknownst to all but the highest elected officials under the Capitol dome, Princippi was also the man who had placed the phone calls that had forced the seven men into premature retirement. All of these machinations were engineered by Mark Kaspar himself, behind the scenes. As he listened to Kaspar's voice from Ragnarok, he knew that more was to come.
"You are not having a problem with access inside the Beltway now?" Kaspar asked.
"Are you kidding? They're scared shitless not to talk to me," Princippi said joyfully. "The power boys are afraid I'm going to give them the same whammy I gave to the President's allies today."
"It is good that they fear you," Kaspar droned.
"Good, bad, what do I care?" Princippi said. "Just so long as they fear. So what's all this about anyway?" Kaspar had given him the dirt he needed to unseat the "Capitol Hill Seven"—as the media had dubbed the departing members of Congress—but had yet to give him a reason for the action. Privately, he suspected Kaspar was weakening the current administration in anticipation of the next national campaign. Everyone knew the vice president was considered virtually an heir apparent.
"I want you to place some discreet phone calls to the highest-ranking members in both houses of Congress," Kaspar instructed. "Find out if they possess any knowledge of the Master of Sinanju or his protege\ Particularly the whereabouts of the younger Master."
"Wait a minute, let me get a pencil."
While Princippi fumbled around his Washington
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hotel room, Kaspar glanced impatiently at the Pythia chamber.
He wore his street clothes, having left his white priestly vestments in an outer room. No sense in dressing for ceremony since his Master was no longer present.
Even the tripod was empty. Esther Clear-Seer had sequestered the latest virgin vessel in a sealed antechamber.
The bare brick room felt empty and cold.
"I'm back," Michael Princippi's whiny voice announced over the cellular phone.
Kaspar detailed his instructions slowly, making certain Princippi repeated every word back to him.
"Okay, I'll ask around," Princippi said once he had copied down the information.
"Make it clear that I will smile favorably on anyone who is able to give me information concerning the young Sinanju Master. Encourage them to go to the highest authority if necessary."
"Will do."
"You've done your job well so far, Prince," Kaspar said by way of encouragement. He could almost hear Princippi beaming over the phone.
"You know, Mark, you embarrassed the President a lot with that State Department thing this morning," Princippi said, getting back to what he felt was the day's most important business. "I have the results of a poll they took after the vote. Your name-recognition factor has jumped up to the high thirties. That's not bad for someone who just yesterday was a political unknown. And I can guarantee you that your appearances, coupled with these resignations, are going to
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