Chiun had locked them in the next room, where they were collaborating on a paper extolling the superiority of the Korean people especially those hailing from the fishing village of Sinanju. Chiun had told them he would collect it on the way out.
On the wall where Remo pointed was a portrait of the old man in the wheelchair they had seen kidnapping Ferris D'Orr in Baltimore.
"Another clue," said Chiun. "Does this mean we are closer to Ferris?"
"Probably," said Remo. Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, he glided to the door. "Someone coming," he said.
"Probably another racist," spat Chiun.
Remo caught the person as he entered. The he was a she.
"Oh!" said Ilsa Gans, struggling in Remo's arms.
When her struggles only caused the arms to tighten around her, she looked into the face of her captor. "Oh!" she said again. There was fear in her voice, but an undertone of pleasure too.
"It's the blond girl from Baltimore," Remo told Chiun.
"Where's Ferris?" he asked her.
"Somewhere," Ilsa said. His eves, close up, were brown and very large. They looked as warm as polished wood. For some reason, that made her tingle.
"I want an answer." Remo warned.
"I'll give you everything you want. Just squeeze me harder. "
"Damn," said Remo, suddenly thinking of Mah-Li waiting for him back in Sinanju. "Here, you take her, Little Father," and he sent Ilsa spinning across the room.
Chiun plucked her wrist, bringing her to a skidding stop.
"Oohh, you're some kind of icky Oriental," Ilsa cried, looking at the Master of Sinanju.
Chiun released her wrist disdainfully.
"And you are some kind of icky racist," he said. "I am losing my faith in American enlightenment, Remo." Remo pushed Ilsa into a leather chair and towered over her.
"Answers," he said, pointing to the wall portrait. "Who's he?"
"Herr Fuhrer Blutsturz. He is a great man."
"That's open to discussion. He's in charge here?"
"Until you got here," Ilsa said meltingly. She was staring at Remo's belt buckle hungrily. "There's something I must tell you. It's very important."
"Shoot," Remo said.
"I'm a virgin. I've been saving myself for someone else, but you can have me if you want."
Remo groaned inwardly. Women always reacted like this. It was some kind of animal magnetism generated by Sinanju rhythms. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the effect he had on women. Usually it was a bother turning on the airline stewardesses or secretaries he happened to encounter. Sometimes Remo could use it to his advantage. A little Sinanju sexual stimulation could be a quick interrogation technique. But that was in the past, before Mah-Li.
"I want some answers," Remo said. "Not until I get what I want."
Remo grabbed Ilsa by an earlobe. He squeezed. Ilsa screeched. Her eyes watered.
"Get your mind onto business. Why did you and this Fuhrer what's-his-name-Bloodsucker-kidnap Ferris D'Orr?"
"Blutsturz," Ilsa moaned. "We needed his nebulizer."
"For what?"
"To make Herr Fuhrer walk. He has been in a wheelchair since the war. The creepy Jews did it."
"He's lucky they didn't do worse," said Remo, noticing Ilsa's Nazi armband.
"We needed the nebulizer to rebuild him in titanium. It was important. We tried to kill the Smiths one by one, but there were too many."
"What Smiths? You were talking about the Jews."
"Harold Smith is the leader of the global Jewish conspiracy."
"Harold Smith?" asked Remo.
"He was the evil one who destroyed Herr Fuhrer's magnificent Aryan physique. During the war. We've been trying to locate him for years."
Chiun sidled up to Remo and whispered, "Would that Smith be our Smith?"
Remo shook his head doubtfully. "There are zillions of Smiths."
"That is too many," said Chiun.
"Where's Ferris?" Remo asked Ilsa.
"I don't know." Ilsa pouted. "Dead somewhere."
"Aeeiie!" wailed the Master of Sinanju. "Did you hear that, Remo? Ferris is dead. O woe! O misery! We are lost."
"I didn't know you liked the guy that much," Remo said.
"Like," spat Chiun. "I despise that wretch. First for allowing himself to be captured and second for not defending his life with his last breath. Did he not know that by dying he would disgrace me in the eyes of my emperor? Had he no consideration? How will I break this to Smith? O calamity!"
"Smith?" said Ilsa.
"A different Smith," said Remo. "Our Smith doesn't head any conspiracies, Jewish or otherwise. Next question. The nebulizer?"
Ilsa Gans hesitated before answering. It was growing clear that the sexual creature who called himself Remo was not going to take her. Not now, not ever. She took a deep breath and gained control of her passion. She would save it for the man she had always been saving it for-Konrad Blutsturz.
"All your questions will be answered at the meeting," she said.