"I wish someone would tell him that."
"I will try."
"Don't do me any favors," Remo said sourly.
"Do not fear, I will not," said Chiun, marching up to the elephant. With delicate fingers he pulled back one of Rambo's fan-shaped ears and whispered softly. Remo strained to hear what was being said. Chiun's words seemed to be in Korean, but Remo couldn't make them out.
Abruptly Rambo climbed to his feet. His trunk swaying from side to side, he stepped up to the ramp and walked into the truck's container section. He stood patiently, his tail hanging docilely.
"What are you waiting for?" Chiun asked. "Close the door."
Remo rushed to shove the ramp back into place. He slammed the doors shut and threw the locking lever. "Thanks, Little Father," Remo said grudgingly.
"Thank me by allowing me to accompany you."
"Why do you want to do that?"
"So that I may say a proper good-bye to my faithful steed. "
"Then let's go before Rambo changes his mind," Remo said, climbing behind the wheel. Chiun settled into the passenger seat and Remo got the truck in gear and headed for the Folcroft gate.
"Oh, he will not change his mind. I explained everything to him."
"You did, huh?" Remo said skeptically. "I didn't know you spoke elephant."
"I do not. I spoke truth. Even elephants understand the truth."
"Right," said Remo, and piloted the truck down the road. He wondered where the nearest zoo was. He would have to ask at the first gas station.
As the gates of Folcroft Sanitarium receded in the rearview mirror, Remo noticed a frantic figure in gray running after them and waving his arms. Smith. He probably wanted to say good-bye to the elephant too. Remo decided to pretend he didn't see him. He hit the accelerator, knowing that Smith's ancient car would never catch up. No way was he going to stop until he found a zoo.
Chapter 7
General Martin S. Leiber was beginning to enjoy himself. He was senior officer at the Pentagon now. When he spoke, other officers jumped. Word had gotten around that the President had left him in charge during the crisis. No one knew what the crisis was and General Leiber wasn't about to tell anyone, except to hint that it was very, very dire.
When he realized how much power he wielded, he sent out for lobster. Might as well grab the perks while he could. He was cracking the last claw when the phone rang.
"General Leiber," he said through a mouthful of lobster meat. Melted butter ran down his chin.
"General, this is CINCNORAD."
"Who?" asked Leiber. He fumbled through a Pentagon directory. He knew what NORAD was, sort of. But what the hell was a CINC?
"I've been in touch with the joint Chiefs and they tell me you're in charge out there."
"That's right. Who did you say you were again?"
"Commander in chief of NORAD. You mean you don't recognize my designation?"
"It's starting to come back to me," said General Leiber, who usually didn't associate with real military types. He was more at home among lobbyists and defense contractors. Where the true power lay.
"Under orders from the joint Chiefs, we've completed our tactical search. I thought you should have the results as soon as possible."
"Shoot," said General Leiber, wondering what the heck he was talking about.
"We've been over our logs and satellite reconnaissance photos a dozen times. We find no evidence of any hotspots or launch blowoffs."
"Is that good or bad?" asked General Leiber, wondering what a blowoff was.
"I'm not sure," said the other man. "It's very strange. We've been assuming a ground launch, but our recon photos show that all Soviet missile silos are on standdown. So are the Chinese launch sites. There have been no ground launches from any known missile sites we monitor."
"Then it's a submarine launch, right?"
"That would be a logical guess, but Spacetrack would have detected it before PAVE PAWS. They didn't. In fact, Spacetrack inventory lists nothing going up. Nothing at all."
"Well, it didn't drop out of deep space."
"I don't think we should discount that possibility," said CINCNORAD.
"Correct me if I'm off base here, but we don't currently have a defense against extraterrestrial hostiles, do we?"
"No, General, we do not."
"What do I tell the President?"
"If I were you, I'd advise him to lie low until we have the straight skinny on this incident."
General Leiber hung up the phone, trying to decide if it would be better to call the President now or after he heard back from Andrews. He decided to polish off the last lobster claw first. If he ended up in the stockcade, it would be a long time before he tasted hot melted butter again. Maybe never.
But the last lobster claw went uncracked. The phone rang again. Leiber picked it up. It was Major Cheek. "What have you got for me?" he barked.
"Progress, sir," Major Cheek said crisply.
"I don't give a hang about progress. Can you identify the hostile?"
"We can narrow it down to a limited number of possibilities."
"Good. Then it's a known threat."
"Well, yes and no," the major said unhappily.
"What do you mean-yes and no?"
"Well, sir, I think we can determine exactly what the object is, but the threat factor may be up to others to evaluate. We may know more after we go through some reference books. I've sent a man out to buy some."
"Buy? You don't have one lousy copy of Jane's at Andrews?"