"We can't stay at high alert forever. I'm ordering everyone to stand down. Let's see what happens. And I'm convening a meeting of the joint Chiefs this afternoon. I'd like you to be there. The Joint Chiefs will want to hear your findings directly, of course."
"Of course," General Leiber croaked.
He hung up the phone and stared at it for twenty minutes without moving.
Finally two words escaped his lips. "It's over."
Remo and Chiun entered the anteroom to Dr. Harold W. Smith's office. The first thing they noticed was that even though it was early morning, Smith's secretary was not at her desk. In fact, her desk was not where it was supposed to be. And there was a rubber hose leading from the washroom into Smith's office.
"What gives?" Remo asked aloud.
"Let us see. I hear voices coming from Emperor Smith's office. "
Remo and Chiun walked in unannounced.
Dr. Harold W. Smith was at his desk as usual. His head was so close to the ever-present desk terminal that they could not see his face.
Smith was talking.
"I believe you're right. Those movements of funds indicate illegal activity. Let's file that one for future action." Remo and Chiun looked around the room. There was no one else in the office area. Remo noticed the Christmas-tree-like object in one corner of the room and nudged Chiun.
"Ah," said Chiun pleasantly.
"Ah?"
"It is exquisite."
"Exquisite?" Remo retorted. "It looks like a festive suppository."
"I would like one for my quarters," Chiun said. "Remember to ask Smith for a festive suppository at our next contract negotiation."
Remo looked at Chiun with raised eyebrows. "I hope you're not serious," he said.
"What about that Mexico City matter?" Smith asked suddenly.
"What Mexico City matter?" Rema asked.
"Oh," said Smith, looking up.
Remo and Chiun stared at Smith's face. His normally pallid complexion was flushed. Gray stubble decorated his chin. His suit was so creased it might have been slept in. And behind his glasses, Smith's gray eyes swam, bleary and bloodshot.
"I didn't hear you come in," Smith said, adjusting his tie. The knot was greasy from too many adjustments.
"Smitty, what happened to you?"
"Nothing. I have been working overtime on managing the present crisis."
"You look like hell. And who were you talking to a minute ago?"
"He was speaking with me," a silvery female voice said. Remo and Chiun looked around the room.
"It came from the suppository," Chiun whispered. "Perhaps it is a demon. I take back my suggestion."
"What is this thing?" Remo demanded, walking around it.
"I am not a thing. I am the ES Quantum Three Thousand. I am fluent in all known languages, including nonverbal forms, and have an intelligence quotient of 755,900.9 as of two nanoseconds ago."
"Meet my new computer," Smith said, watching the screen before him out of the corner of one eye. He reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of pills, swallowed two, and chased them down with mineral water.
Remo noticed that the pills were red. He frowned. "New computer?" he asked.
"The President has insisted that our whole operation be brought up to current technological standards. I was hesitant at first, but now I see the wisdom of his decision."
"And I see trouble," Chiun said tightly.
"Me too," Remo added.
"Where?" asked Smith.
"Like I said, you look like hell," Remo replied solicitously, coming around to Smith's side of the desk. "Let's see this thing."
Smith's eyes darted to his terminal. The cursor was zipping across the screen like a green spider, spinning grids of text.
"Amazing, isn't it? The computer is digesting entire intercepts for me. I no longer have to skim large masses of text. It does all that for me. What a time saver this will be."
"If it's such a time saver," Remo said, slipping Smith's medicine drawer open and peering inside, "why do you look like you've been working without a break since 1961?"
"Of course, the system will place a greater demand on my time while I break it in. Once that phase is completed, I should be able to relax."
"What happened to your secretary?"
"Temporary leave. I couldn't have her overhearing my conversations with the ES Quantum Three Thousand."
"I thought she practically ran Folcroft for you."
"No longer. The ES Quantum does that too."
"Does it have to be that ugly brown shape?"
"The design facilitates data transfers between its memory chips. The plastic cover is extruded into that form to compress the electronics for that purpose."
"That's a good word for it. 'Extruded.' It looks like something Stumbo the Giant left in the forest after a feast. "
"Quiet, Remo. She'll hear you!"
"She?" Remo suddenly noticed that the plastic hose leading from the hall washroom disappeared under Smith's desk.