"But he disappeared."
Smith turned. "Have you ever known the Master of Sinanju to go anywhere without creating a disturbance?"
"I've never known him to stay in one place and not create a disturbance," Remo said truthfully.
"Then we will find him," Smith said confidently.
Remo limped to the car and climbed into the back.
His ribs hurt as Smith pulled away from the curb. He ignored the pain. It was the worry in his heart, the sick hot pain of loss that bothered him most.
Chapter 10
The entrance to Folcroft Sanitarium was a wrought-iron gate set into stone posts. Each post was topped by a lion's head. The lions looked as forbidding as props from an old Frankenstein movie.
"Sit up," Smith called back.
Remo had been scrunched down in the back seat because the bumps hurt less than if he sat up.
"Why?"
"The guard," Smith said, slowing down as he approached the gate. "I don't want him to become suspicious."
"Screw him. You run Folcroft, not him."
"Please," Smith said edgily.
Groaning, Remo pulled himself up by the coat hook.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a pill, Smitty?"
"Don't call me that. Smitty."
"I've been calling you Smitty since day one," Remo reminded him.
"And I have been objecting since that day," Smith muttered, braking carefully. "Just don't let the guard hear you."
"Good morning, Dr. Smith," the guard said. He looked to Remo. "Nice afternoon, isn't it?"
"Peachy," Remo said bitterly.
"I have some paperwork to catch up on," Smith told the guard apologetically. "Unimportant paperwork," he added quickly.
"Then I won't keep you, sir," the guard said, tipping his cap.
"Smart move," Remo said as they slid into Smith's private parking slot. "You really stressed how suspicious this is."
Smith got out and opened the door for Remo.
"Will you need assistance?" he asked Remo.
"I'm ambulatory," Remo snapped back.
Remo stepped out, surprised at how much it hurt to walk. He let Smith close the door.
Together the two men walked into the Folcroft lobby.
A lobby guard took note of them and said nothing. They went to the elevator and up to Smith's second-floor office.
Leaving the elevator, Remo fell in behind Smith and noticed Smith walked with the suggestion of a limp in his right leg. Remo keyed his breathing down and brought up the creak of cartilage against bone that told him Smith's right knee was the problem.
"Have that knee checked lately, Smitty?" Remo asked as Smith unlocked his office and ushered him in.
"My semiannual physical is not for another seven weeks."
"Wasn't what I asked," Remo said.
Smith said nothing. He went directly to the oak desk and eased himself into the cracked leather executive chair.
Feeling under the worn desk edge, Smith hit a concealed stud. There came a click, and a concealed panel rolled back on the desktop.
The familiar computer terminal hummed up as if on command. A keyboard unfolded, offering itself to Smith's age-gnarled fingers. They set to work.
Remo tried sitting on the edge of the desk. It hurt, so he settled for standing. He watched from over Smith's shoulder.
"What are you doing, Smitty?" he asked, watching a series of texts flash on the screen. To Remo's eyes, the glowing letters were visible as clusters of bright green pixels. He had to step back to see them for what they were-words and sentences.
"I am doing a key search," Smith told him.
"Forget keys. Find Chiun."
"I am not literally searching for a key," Smith explained. "A key search is a global data search keyed off specific data parameters. I am inputting Chiun's physical description and certain behavior patterns unique to the Master of Sinanju."
"Don't forget his fourteen steamer trunks," Remo said.
"Thank you." Smith typed in "large steamer trunks" under the rubric PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.
When he was done, Smith tapped a control key.
The screen winked out and the terminal hummed. Lines of text flashed on the screen faster than the human eye could register them. Remo caught momentary sentences. "Asian drug suspect gunned down in Newark." "Bruce Lee and Elvis spotted in San Francisco airport." "Vietnamese boat survivor killed by drunk driver."
"The system is running through all news feeds," Smith explained, "seeking any Chiun-configuration pattern."
"What if he hasn't made the news?"
"The key search will run until he does," Smith said flatly.