Just then the phone rang. Smith looked up. It was the direct line to Washington the dialless phone which connected the President of the United States with CURE. Smith reached up stiffly and pulled the red receiver to his ear.
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"We have a problem, Smith. I don't know what you can do without operatives, but maybe you can advise me."
"Excuse me, Mr. President, but we do have an operative. "
"We do?"
"Yes, the old one."
"Older one," Chiun whispered, tugging on Smith's sleeve. "I am older than you and Remo, but I am not old."
Smith coughed noisily. "Yes, Mr. President. You heard me correctly. We have just finished negotiating for another year of service."
"I thought he had retired," said the President, "and that he was upset with us over the matter with the Soviets. After all, his pupil did die during that one."
"He's sitting before me even as we speak," said Smith uncomfortably.
"Younger than ever," Chiun said loudly.
Smith clapped a hand over the receiver. "Hush. The President still thinks Remo is dead.
"Stricken by grief at the loss of my only adopted son, I will nevertheless bear up under my burdens and deal with the enemies of America," Chiun added.
"That's enough. Don't overplay it." Having lied to the President about Remo's supposed death, there was no way Smith could admit to the truth-that he had fudged the facts to cover for Remo. As long as this President served in the Oval Office, he must never learn that Remo still lived. That discovery would expose Smith as unreliable and could pull the CURE operation down around Smith's head.
"All right," said the President. "I won't ask questions. Here's our problem. A fellow named Ferris D'Orr has just escaped a kidnapping attempt. D'Orr is important to America. He's discovered a remarkable way of cold-forging titanium. I think you know how important that is to our Defense Department. Why, this process could cut so much from next year's defense budget that we could fund a lot of the programs that Congress is now trying to stifle."
"Who is responsible?"
"That's just it. We don't know. The Soviets, the Chinese, hell, it might even be the French. They've got a pretty fair space program going now. Who is behind this doesn't matter so much. We've just got to protect D'Orr."
"I'll put our special person right on it."
"Good man, Smith. D'Orr is being transported to a safe house in Baltimore. It's the penthouse of the Lafayette Building. Keep me informed."
"Yes, Mr. President," said Dr. Harold W. Smith, hanging up the phone. To Chiun, Smith said, "That was the President."
"So I gathered," said the Master of Sinanju, who, now that he was under contract, felt no pressing need to gush over Smith. "Something was said about work."
"What I began to tell you can wait," said Smith, knowing that the threat to his own life was a personal matter, but that national security was CURE's prime directive. "I'm sending you to Maryland."
"A lovely province," said Chiun.
"Yes. Someone has attempted to kidnap Ferris D'Orr, a metallurgist."
"The fiends," cried Chiuua, "kidnapping a sick man like that."
"Sick?"
"He is a metallurgist, correct? He is allergic to metals. The poor wretch. Imagine never being able to touch gold, or hold coins in his hand. He must be beside himself."
"A metallurgist is someone who works with metals," said Smith, getting to his feet.
"Ah, an artisan."
"Not quite. He's invented a process for melting titanium, an important metal."
Chiun shook his head slowly. "There is only one important metal, and that is yellow."
"Titanium is important to America.'
"Is it yellow?"
"No. I believe it is bluish, like lead."
Chiun made a face. "Lead is not a good metal. Lead killed the Roman Empire. They used it for their plumbing. Romans drank water from their lead pipes and lost first their wits, and later their empire. No doubt they had lead toilets too. Toilets will bring down a civilization faster than pestilence. Even the mighty Greeks would not have been able to survive the onslaught of toilets."
"Titanium is important to America," Smith repeated, ignoring Chiun's outburst.
"Oh? It is valuable?"
"Very," said Smith. "It is used for jet-engine parts and in space-age technologies."
"If it is valuable, why waste it on machines?" Chiun asked. "Why not make beautiful urns of titanium instead? Or statues of worthy persons? I am certain I would look wonderful in titanium."
"Protect D'Orr, and if anyone comes after him," Smith said wearily. "eliminate them."
"Of course." said the Master of Sinanju. "I understand perfectly."
Chapter 13
Remo Williams had walked most of the way to Pyongyang, capital of the People's Republic of Korea, before he saw his first automobile.
It was an imported Volvo. Remo stepped out into the middle of the highway and waved his arms for the car to stop.
The car slowed. The driver took a long look at Remo and drove around him.
Remo ran after the Volvo. The Volvo picked up speed. The driver of the Volvo looked at his speedometer. It read seventy. But the white man in the black T-shirt was still in his rearview mirror.
When the running white man drew up alongside the Volvo, there were tears in the driver's eyes. There was no way this could be happening. The white man must not be a western spy, as he had first thought. He had to be an evil spirit.
"I need a ride into Pyongyang," Remo yelled at the driver.
It was then that the driver knew of a certainty that the white being must be an evil apparition. Not only was he keeping pace with a seventy-mile-an-hour automobile, but he spoke Korean. Western spies did not speak Korean. Korean ghosts spoke Korean, however. Among other things they did, like pass their intangible hands through solid objects and pluck out the hearts from the chest cavities of the living.