"Until I have a firm lead on the Parasol connection, it is the only avenue open to us. Remo, go to Tucson and interrogate Pagan. The BioBubble has been in financial difficulty since he took control. He may have had it destroyed for insurance reasons."
"Doesn't explain the Reliant," Remo challenged.
"Pagan is antishuttle."
"Okay," Remo said slowly. "That doesn't explain Baikonur."
"The Russian space-shuttle fleet was hangared there."
"How antishuttle can a guy be?"
"Pagan believes in a Mars mission, Remo. My information is that he suffers from a rare form of bone cancer. His days are numbered. It may be he wanted to accelerate a Mars mission. In some warped way, Pagan could see a Mars landing as his final professional achievement and his cosmic legacy."
"Sounds wacky."
"Move quickly. Moscow has placed its nuclear forces on the highest state of alert. And Washington is responding in kind."
"You know, this reminds me a lot of that trouble a few years back when the ozone layer was getting holes knocked in it and the Russians thought it was us trying to fry their missiles."
"I had that same thought. It is another example of how dangerous technological breakthroughs can be in the nuclear age."
"We're on our way to Tucson," said Remo, then hung up.
The Master of Sinanju came down from upstairs, wearing a splendid bone white kimono with black piping.
"Nice traveling outfit," Remo complimented.
"It is not for travel," said Chiun.
"Then you'd better change. It's back to Arizona for us."
"Smith has work?"
"Cosmo Pagan is Ruber Mavors. Smith wants us to shake him until something falls out."
"At least it will be warm in Arizona," said Chiun.
"Let's hope it doesn't get too warm," Remo responded.
Chapter 38
Dr. Cosmo Pagan had friends in high places. And not only the stars and the comets of the galaxy.
He had friends in NASA, despite his critical opinions. As well as in the Air Force and other organizations where the heavens and what went on in them was of professional interest.
Someone at Cheyenne Mountain called to whisper, "There's a mystery object in low Earth orbit."
"Is it cometary?"
"No. Man-made."
"Oh," said Dr. Pagan, who only cared about manmade space objects if they were going some place interesting. Earth orbit was like taking a cruise to nowhere. Literally.
"It'll pass over the continental US. tonight. If it stays on its current path, it will overfly your area."
"Why should I care?" asked Dr. Pagan in a bored voice.
"Because SPACETRACK thinks this is the thing that hit the Reliant. "
The bored quality dropped from Pagan's manner like clothes falling off a hooker.
"Can you slip me coordinates?"
The coordinates came over the line in a hushed voice, and then the line went as dead as outer space.
Dr. Pagan rushed to his thirty-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain refractor, punched the right ascension and declination into the on-board guidance computer, hit the "Go-to" command and waited patiently while the control motor toiled as it oriented the tube toward the northern quadrant of the night sky, the observatory dome rotating so the slit lined up with the scope.
He was very interested in seeing what had caused the BioBubble to collapse into viscous glass and steel. Very.
While he waited, he pulled a candy bar from one of his jacket pockets without looking. Absently he bit the wrapper off and chewed off a hunk of chocolate, caramel and nougat.
"Nothing like a Mars bar," he murmured. "Unless it's a Milky Way."
Chapter 39
Finding Dr. Cosmo Pagan's Tucson home was easier than Remo had ever imagined. Harold Smith told him it was, on a secluded hill off Route 10, south of the city.
The house was shielded from view by ponderosa pine and cottonwoods. But the private observatory showed clearly on the hill. It was as red as Mars, and it was crisscrossed by black lines suggesting Martian canals.
"If this isn't the place, I'll eat my hat," said Remo.
"You do not wear a hat," said Chiun.
"Good point. Boy, if there were Martians living among us, I'd expect them to live in a creepy place just like this," said Remo as they pulled into the long circular driveway.
They got out. Lights burned throughout the house. It was painted a very sedate maroon that looked almost brown in the dark. A carport protected a red Saturn and a vintage Mercury Cougar.
"Front approach works for me," said Remo.
Chiun girded his jet black kimono skirts, saying, "I fear no Martians."
At the door, they simply rang the bell.
Mrs. Pagan answered, took one look at Remo's FBI ID and said, "He's in the observatory. Quarter mile back in the woods on the hill. You can't miss it."
"You got that right," said Remo.