"Well, come on, then. We'll have to hoof it on to base camp. Jiro's going to hear about this."
"Who's Jiro?"
"Jiro Isuzu. The executive producer. He's a stiffnecked SOB. Makes those tank guys seem like little old ladies. Except Jiro's so polite you want to bust him in the mouth sometimes. I know I do."
Chapter 8
"Please, Master of Sinanju," Harold Smith said in a dry, cracked voice. "It's nearly three A.M. We can continue negotiations tomorrow."
"No," replied the Master of Sinanju. "We are nearly done. Why break off such delicate talks now, when we are so close to an understanding?"
Dr. Harold W. Smith didn't feel close to an understanding. He felt close to exhaustion. For nearly nineteen hours the Master of Sinanju had led him through the most Byzantine contract negotiations of their long and difficult association. It would have been difficult enough, Smith thought, but they were conducting these negotiations on the hard floor of Smith's office because, as Chiun explained it, although Smith was the emperor and Chiun merely the royal assassin, in honest negotiations, all such distinctions were dispensed with. Smith could not sit on what Chiun insisted was his throne, and Chiun would not stand. So they sat. Without food, without water, and without bathroom breaks.
After nearly all night, Chiun still looked as fresh as an origami sunflower. Smith's leaden face was the color of a clam's shell. He felt dead. Except his stomach. The combination of no food and nervous distress had triggered a flow of stomach acid and was eating into his peptic ulcer. If this didn't end soon, Smith feared, he would have no stomach lining left.
"This year," Chiun recited, looking at the half-curled scroll that was held to the floor by tiny jade weights, "we have agreed to a modest ten-percent increase in the gold payment. In consideration of the new situation."
"Explain to me again why I must pay more gold if the new arrangement does not require you to accompany Remo on his assignments," Smith said dully. "Shouldn't that realistically mean less service on my part?"
Chiun raised a wise finger. "Less service from the Master of Sinanju, yes. But more service from Remo. You will be working him harder; therefore he is worth more."
"But shouldn't we first deduct the additional expense you insisted upon when we originally settled on your expanded role and then negotiate Remo's price?"
Chiun shook his aged head. "No. For those are the terms of the old contract. Since we are entering into an entirely new arrangement, they will only cloud the issue."
"I feel the issue is already clouded," Smith said unhappily. His patrician face looked like a lemon that had been sucked of all moisture.
"Then let me clarify it for you," Chiun went on, adding in a low voice, "once again. Ten percent more gold for Remo's added burden. And then, in the form of precious stones and bolts of silk and weights of rice, there is my new fee."
"If you are not taking part in Remo's missions," Smith wondered, "what is your part? I completely fail to understand."
"While Remo is enjoying the broadening effects of travel to exotic far-off lands like Arizona-"
"Arizona is a western state," Smith interjected sharply. "It is hardly exotic."
". . . far-off western states, exotic by Korean standards," Chiun continued, "to partake of their splendid sights . . ."
"A desert. It's in the center of wilderness and desolation. "
". . . meeting famous personalities, such as Bartholomew Banzini . . ."
Smith sighed. "Bronzini. And I wish you would stop throwing that back in my face. It was your idea that Remo undertake the Santa Claus assignment alone."
"A mistake on my part," Chiun allowed. "I am willing to admit it-if you will make certain concessions."
"I cannot-repeat, cannot-get you on that movie set," Smith said firmly. "You must understand the security problems. It's a closed set."
Chiun's parchment face fell into a frown.
"I understand. We will speak no more of it."
Smith's tensed shoulders loosened. They tightened again when Chiun resumed speaking.
"The stipulated amount is to cover my new added burdens."
Smith loosened his Dartmouth tie. "New burdens?"
"The burdens I assumed during Remo's last assignment," Chiun said, knowing that the unloosened tie was the first crack in the man's stubborn armor.
"You stayed home," Smith protested.
Chiun raised a solemn finger. Its long nail gleamed. "And worried," Chiun said morosely.
The yellow pencil in Smith's bony fingers snapped.
"Perhaps there is a way," he groaned. "There must be. "
Chiun's agate-hard eyes glistened. "There is always a way," he intoned. "For a ruler as resourceful as you."
"Allow me to use the telephone."
"I will waive the no-telephone rule," Chiun said magnanimously. "Provided it furthers swift resolution of our talks."
Smith started to push himself to his feet. He froze. He looked down at his crossed legs in constipated bewilderment.
"They won't move," he croaked. "They must have fallen asleep."
"You did not feel them falling asleep?" Chiun asked.
"No. Can you help me?"
"Certainly," said Chiun, rising. He stepped past.
Smiths offered hand and to his desk, where he reached for the telephone. He paused. "Which telephone instrument do you wish?" he inquired.
"I really wish to be helped to my feet," Smith said.
"In good time. You required a telephone. Let us deal with your paramount desire first, then the lesser ones." Smith wanted to tell the Master of Sinanju-no, he wanted to scream at the Master of Sinanju-that right at this moment, more than anything else he desired the use of his legs. But he knew that Chiun would only evade the issue. He saw the telephone as the most direct indirect path to his goal.
"Give me the ordinary phone," Smith said.
The Master of Sinanju ignored the dialless red telephone that was Smith's direct line to the White House and lifted the more elaborate office telephone. He placed it at Smith's angular knees with a magnificent flourish. Smith lifted the receiver and began dialing.
"Hello, Milburn?" he said. "Yes, I know it's three o'clock, but this could not wait until morning. Please do not shout. This is Harold."
Chiun cocked a delicate ear in the direction of the conversation.