"She is your date. You cover her nakedness," Chiun sniffed as he read the screen.
Smith came back and said, "I have accessed the computer."
"How'd you do that?"
"The supporting telephone line is listed in Kinga Zongar's name, as is the line you are calling from."
"Oh," said Remo. "Pretty slick."
The line hummed for a moment. Then Smith said, "I am attempting to retrace the e-mail to its sender."
"How can you do that?"
"The e-mail address at the top."
Remo looked. "Which one is that?"
"Top line."
"I see a W, a backward N and a T. "
"It is pronounced like a certain foul English word."
"Which one?" asked Remo.
Smith said, "The W is the Cyrillic Sh. The backward N is pronounced like a double e but transliterates as i, while the T equals our T. "
"I'm a little slow today, Smitty. Care to spell it out for me?"
"Never mind," put in Smith. "The word means 'shield,' and I am coming up with an e-mail account in Moscow."
"She said she was with the FSK, whatever that is."
"The Russian Federal Security Service. It used to be the KGB. But the e-mail account is not coming from the former KGB headquarters in the former Dzerzhinsky Square."
"Probably a blind."
"Unfortunately I cannot get a definite address."
"So we're at a dead end?"
"No. I have it narrowed down to four blocks on Gorky Street. I think it would be useful for you and Chiun to go there and discover what you can."
"Not much of a lead," said Remo.
"According to the e-mail from Moscow, her superiors are attempting to learn what they can about this from Glavkosmos, the Russian space agency. If you find nothing in Moscow, that will be your second stop."
"Sounds pretty thin."
"Nevertheless, it is a direction, and we desperately need a direction right now. Especially with Dr. Pagan giving hourly public theories."
"What's he saying now?"
"Currently he is vacillating between an asteroid strike and a floating hole in the ozone layer."
"No asteroid could have done what Chiun and I saw."
"The American public will have to be educated to understand that. In the meantime, panic is growing and we are making no progress."
"Okay. Next stop Moscow," said Remo, looking to Chiun for his reaction.
That was when he noticed the red smudge on Kinga's index fingernail.
"Hold the phone, Smith."
Remo called out. "Check this out. She was wearing some kind of fake nails."
"Do not remind me of my shame," sniffed Chiun.
"This isn't about you." Kneeling, Remo lifted the cooling hand. It was the color of porcelain. Under the exposed natural fingernail were three letters seemingly tattooed to the cuticle: "WNT."
"Looks like the Russian word for 'shield,'" said Remo.
"Yes, it is the Russian word for 'shield,'" said Chiun.
Returning to the phone, Remo said, "She's got 'shield' tattooed under her fingernail. Smitty, what do you make of that?"
"A recognition sign."
"Her code name maybe?"
"That, or the name of the organization for which she works. Let me consult my data base."
The speed with which Smith came back on the line surprised Remo.
"I have something." Smith's voice was troubled. "Do you recall the event at the Rumpp Tower a few years ago where you and Chiun encountered Russian agents?"
"Yeah. It was the last time we fought that crazy Russian klepto who could walk through walls."
"During that assignment, a Russian thug you captured blurted out the Russian word for 'shield' when asked his affiliation."
"I execute my assignments, I don't commit them to memory," Remo growled. "Remo, it might be useful to throw the word 'shield' around in Moscow."
"Gotta have the Russian pronunciation."
"Sheet."