There was an 88.2-percent chance that his communicator was supplied by the same manufacturer that had produced the faulty telephone system. Friend logged into memory a corollary to the earlier memo. Replace the communicators. Remo and Chiun had many assignments ahead of them. Friend was already contacting other heads of state who were eager to have the services of the two finest assassins in modern history.
Chapter 30
Remo Williams waited impatiently at the baggage carousal at Kennedy International Airport.
Finally the expensive valise he'd bought in a London gift shop came around. He opened it, extracted the candy-dispenser communicator, and stuffed it into his pants pocket. Then he threw the valise into a wastebasket. Remo didn't care about the valise. He just didn't want to listen to the beeper beeping all the way across the Atlantic. Smith kept trying to reach him. Remo knew that Smith wanted to send him to Gibraltar. Remo also knew that he wasn't going anywhere Smith's silly-ass computer said to go.
Remo rented a car and drove it from the airport. As he sped past one of the terminals, he spotted a familiar figure in a firecracker-red kimono arguing with a skycap. He pulled over and threw open the passenger door.
"Going my way?" Remo asked the Master of Sinanju. Chiun leapt into the seat. Remo took off.
"Smith sent me on a fool's errand," Chiun complained.
"Me too. I think it's that computer's fault."
"Me too. What should we do?"
"What we should have done long ago. Talk to Smith. Man to man."
"I fear he will only listen to that demon machine."
"Not the way we're going to handle it," said Remo, flooring the accelerator.
It was dark when they pulled into the Folcroft gate. Remo parked and they took the elevator to Smith's office. For the millionth time, Remo's beeper signaled. He reached in and shut it off.
"Why do you not crush that annoyance?" Chiun sniffed.
"May need it later."
The cage opened on Smith's floor.
"You take the computer. I'll handle Smith," Remo whispered as they approached Smith's office door.
"Do not hurt him," Chiun warned.
"Right. I don't care what happens to the computer."
"I am glad you said that."
Remo shoved open the door. Smith's haggard and bestubbled face greeted them.
"Remo! Thank God! I've been trying to get both of you. What happened to your communicator?"
"Must be on the fritz," Remo said casually, approaching Smith. "What's up?"
"The Gibraltar situation is critical. The terrorists are threatening to detonate. They have a hydrogen bomb."
"That so?" Remo remarked calmly. In the corner, Chiun was addressing the ES Quantum Three Thousand.
"Hello, machine."
"Hello, Master of Sinanju. I see you are back. Did your trip go well?"
"It was very educational," Chiun replied. "I learned a new, important fact."
"What is that?"
"People will sometimes lie. But not when properly motivated. However, machines are not to be trusted ever."
"I do not follow. More data."
"What are you saying, Master of Sinanju?" Smith asked, frowning.
"I think he's trying to tell you something, Smitty," Remo said. "Better listen."
Chiun spoke without taking his gaze away from the ES uantum Three Thousand.
"I questioned the Swede, Emperor Smith. Under duress, he told me everything."
"Yes?"
"He had nothing to do with the locomotive menace."
"Impossible! ES Quantum Three Thousand, tell him." Friend's electrical synapses quickened. He put all incoming calls on hold. The profit-loss was insignificant compared to the sudden arrival of Remo and Chiun. One was diverting Dr. Smith from the steady stream of crisis updates needed to maintain Smith's nonthreat-factor status. The other was eyeing him critically.
Friend searched memory for the best available defense. And for the first time since the original Friend program had been installed, there was no answer in memory.
Unfortunately for Friend, he had been so preoccupied making money that he had not cleared time to have defenses installed around this current host unit. And so when the Master of Sinanju reached for the plug that provided electricity from a wall outlet, Friend had no recourse but to effect an immediate transfer of intelligence from this host unit.
Friend put in a call to the Montreal auxiliary host unit. But even with speed-of-light program execution, it was not enough.
The Master of Sinanju was quicker still. The plug came out of its socket. A tiny blue spark flared. And for Friend, all input, all thought, all artificial consciousness ceased.
"My God! Remo. He's unplugged it." Horror settled over Smith's ravaged features like a cloud. "He may have wiped the memory banks clean. My God. The Gilbraltar crisis. Weeks of new intelligence accumulation gone!"
Smith sank into his cracked leather chair brokenly. He reached for a bottle of red pills, moaning. "Master of Sinanju, how could you?"
Remo snatched the pills from Smith's trembling hand. He crushed them into colorful powder.
"Forget that stuff, Smith. Listen to what Chiun is saying. The Swedish general was innocent. British Intelligence was not behind this either."
"Never mind that. The Gibraltar matter."
"I hope I'm right, but I don't think there is a Gibraltar matter. "
"Of course there is. Computers don't lie."