"That wasn't what I meant," Remo said meaningfully.
Chiun looked at Smith. "Emperor?"
"We're done with him," Smith said. "Make it look like an accident."
"Would you prefer heart attack or perhaps sudden lung collapse?" asked Chiun, fluttering his fingernails over Earl Armalide's close-cropped head.
"Hey, you can't do this. It's against the Geneva Convention. Besides, I ain't killed no one. I just sterilized a few. Show me a law against that. Specifically."
"You are forgetting the IRS agents and the others," Smith reminded him.
"Hell, that was different. That was war."
Those were the last words that Earl Armalide ever spoke because Anna Chutesov, her face like something extracted from a granite cliff, stepped up to the squatting survivalist and shot him in the face.
Earl Armalide rocked back on his heels and tipped over onto his back.
"What did you do that for?" asked Remo. "Now we're going to have to bury him so there won't be an investigation."
"You do not understand, do you?" Anna Chutesov said furiously. "Idiot! You are so immersed in your own stupid self that you overlook the obvious."
"Give me a hint."
"I, too, have been sterilized."
"Is that why you've been so upset?" Remo asked.
"Of course. What did you think?"
"Never mind," said Remo, who was suddenly disappointed to learn that Anna Chutesov wasn't carrying a torch for him, after all.
Chapter 14
"Who is this criminal, Gordons?" demanded Anna Chutesov.
They had returned to Smith's Folcroft office. Outside the big picture window with a view of Long Island Sound, night had fallen. There was no moon. The only illumination came from the weak fluorescent lights, fluttering out their last hours. The office looked danker than it did by day, and Anna Chutesov noticed the dust in the corners that was not apparent in sunlight. Of course, she thought to herself, Smith probably cleans it himself. It was, after all, a high-security office. And Smith had a mania for attending to details himself.
Upon entering the room, Smith immediately took his customary position behind the desk and brought up the CURE terminal. It glided up from the solid oak desktop like a genie answering a summons. Smith went to work. Anna turned to Remo and Chiun.
"Will one of you kindly answer my question?" she asked.
"Anna wants to know about Gordons, Little Father," Remo said.
"Pah! Do not speak that thing's name to me," Chiun spat.
"Anna's not a thing," Remo said. "And I don't think you should blame her for what happened to you. She got a burst of microwaves too."
"I did not mean the female," said Chiun. "I was referring to the machine man."
"Oh, Gordons. Right."
"Will someone answer me?" Anna said tartly.
"Gordons is an android," Remo said. "Do you know what an android is?"
"Yes," answered Anna Chutesov.
"Good," said Remo. "Why don't you explain it to me? I never got it straight." He took a lotus position on a bare space on the floor. Chiun had settled onto a hardwood chair. Anna thought to herself that they had their positions reversed. It should have been Remo on the chair and Chiun on the floor.
"An android is an artificial human being," said Dr. Smith absently, keying commands into his terminal. "It's a quantum leap above a robot. An android can be made to look like a human being with artificial skin and prosthetic devices."
"Thank you," said Anna Chutesov. She regarded Remo as if he were a bug.
Remo, stung by the look, sat up straighter.
"We first encountered Gordons years ago," he said seriously. "His full name is Mr. Gordons. He was named after a brand of gin. Gordons was part of some crazy space program-an artificial thinking machine designed to pilot spacecraft on long-range missions, where it was impossible to send a man. He was programmed to survive, no matter what. I guess that program was a good one because he's still around. We thought we killed him at least three times."
"I wish we had," snapped Chiun.
"Go on," said Anna Chutesov.
"Anyway," Remo continued, "Gordons was just an experiment. Before him there was Mr. Smirnoff, Mr. Seagrams, and others. The NASA scientist who created him liked to drink. A lot. That was the inspiration for naming him. Then the government cut off funding for the project and Gordons overheard. He understood that money was important, and must have figured he'd be deactivated or something, so he fabricated a new look to pass himself off as a person and escaped."
"How could a machine replicate a person?" Anna asked.
"He usually tears the skin off and starts from there." Anna, in spite of herself, shivered.
"A monster," she said. "When will you males stop creating such monsters? When?"
"Actually," Remo said, "the NASA scientist was a woman. What was her name, Chiun? Wasn't it Vanessa Something?"
"Yes, you are correct," Chiun said disinterestedly. "Vanessa Something was her name."
From his console station, Dr. Smith broke in. "A records search indicates that the city currently owns the car wash. It went bankrupt in 1984 and was seized by the state for taxes."
"How did this Gordons take control of the Gagarin, in the first place?" Anna asked.
"Smitty, what can I tell her about that?" Remo asked. "Whatever you want. After what we've heard about the microwave satellite, she's hardly in a position to complain. "
"Complain about what?"
"Gordons had everything he needed to survive," Remo went on. "He was as strong as a derrick and could transform himself into anything. He might even be that chair you're sitting on."
Anna Chutesov jumped up and looked at the chair. It looked ordinary, a simple wooden chair. Then it moved. Anna recoiled.
"It's him! Gordons," she screeched.