"Whatever it takes. It was my project and my money."
"And when it became a laughingstock, you just fried it."
"That wasn't me!"
"Prove it."
"I don't have the kind of money and technology to put that thing up there," Pagan protested.
"What thing?" asked Chiun thinly.
Pagan swallowed.
"Hah!" said Chiun, squeezing harder. "The truth, Man of Mars."
Pagan got even redder. His veins began to pop until his face started to display an unmistakable Martian cast. A Mars bar fell out of his pocket.
"That is the truth," he gurgled. "All I know about the thing up there is what a friend at SPACETRACK told me. NORAD thinks it's an enemy satellite of some kind."
Remo looked past Dr. Pagan's reddening features to Chiun's severe ones, and they both came to the same conclusion based on a reading of Pagan's hammering vital signs and inability to withstand pain.
"He's telling the truth," said Remo.
"Of course I'm telling the truth. Why would I destroy my own dream?"
"We heard a Paraguayan company paid to have that thing launched through the Russian shuttle. Know anything about that?"
"Did you know Buran really means 'blizzard'?" said Dr. Pagan.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Remo growled.
"I get paid heavy consulting fees for spouting neat factoids like that," said Pagan, retrieving the fallen Mars bar and pocketing it.
"Not interested," said Remo. "Let him go, Little Father."
"Thank you," said Dr. Pagan, adjusting his corduroy jacket and giving his red turtleneck a shake.
Remo eyed the jersey and remembered the Shield secretary in Moscow who'd tried to kill him with an AK-47.
"Ever hear of Shield?" he asked.
"No. I've heard of the ozone shield, though."
"How about Shchit?" asked Chiun.
"Who hasn't? Although I personally shun language like that."
"He never heard of Shield," said Remo.
"If that's all you two want, I want to see that orbital device for myself. It's due to fly by pretty soon."
"Be our guest. We have better things to do."
"Up Uranus," muttered Dr. Pagan, climbing atop his stool and planting his right eye to the telescope eyepiece. By the time Remo and Chiun reached the door, he was all but oblivious to his surroundings.
"By the way," Remo called from the open door, "your wife asked us to give you a message."
"What's that?" Pagan asked absently.
"The QNM people keep calling. They doubled your fee again."
"Tell them I'm not interested."
"You tell them. We're FBI, not messengers," said Remo, shutting the door.
They walked back to the car in silence and got into it.
On the way back to the highway, Remo said to Chiun, "Everywhere we go, we hit a dead end."
"We should be looking for Martians."
"If this keeps up, I might start agreeing with you. But I still think we're dealing with something solar."
"When are you ever correct?"
"Some of the time," Remo said as they pulled onto the highway and raced back toward Tucson and a flight he wasn't looking forward to.
Chapter 40
At SPACETRACK headquarters in Cheyenne Mountain, they watched Object 617 skim over the Eastern Seaboard in silence. And then gave a collective sigh of relief.
No one's sigh was greater than the U.S. President's slow, hot exhalation of released tension.
He had been about to have the thing shot down when CURE Director Smith had called to reveal that he now suspected Dr. Cosmo Pagan of being the mind behind the device.
"Pagan? I can't believe it!" the President had said.
"It is unproven. But my people are on the way to deal with him."
"They won't kill him, will they?"
"His survival depends upon his complicity."
"He's a very popular guy. I read all his books."
"I will keep you informed, Mr. President."