Nemeroff was seated on the edge of the patio, eating, alone and he waved at Remo who nodded.
"Will you join me at breakfast?" he asked.
"No thanks."
"Who is this man?"
"This is one of the men you wanted. Chiun."
"I wanted him dead," Nemeroff said, chewing on the end of a cinnamon roll.
Remo nodded. "He's as good as dead whenever you want him dead. But I brought him here to try to get his partner, this Williams, to follow. He must be hiding somewhere, there's no sign of him yet."
Nemeroff considered this as he chewed. Before he spoke, he was interrupted by the ring of the telephone at his side.
"Yes," he said.
"I see. All right."
He hung up the telephone and turned a smile on Remo.
"Already, your plan has borne fruit. The guards have captured an agent on the grounds."
"Good," Remo said. "Maybe it's Williams." He turned to Chiun. "Still think it's going to be the hour of the cat, old man?"
Chiun said softly, "The cat has not yet unsheathed its claws."
Nemeroff clapped his hands and a ferret-faced man in a white suit appeared on the balcony.
"Accompany Mr. Kenny as he brings this man to our… visitors' quarters," he said. The man smiled and said, "Yes, sir."
"And prepare for other guests," Nemeroff added.
The guard turned into the building and Remo grabbed Chiun's arm, following him through the study, into the hallway, past the hidden elevator and to a flight of steps in the back of the building.
The steps were damp and musty; the walls were stone and they sweated. The steps zigzagged back and forth, through four landings, until they were in a dungeon deep underground, below the level of Nemeroff's armoury.
The steps opened into a narrow passageway, bordered oil each side by heavy wooden doors that had heavy steel locks. The doors were open; the cells stood empty. There were no windows and the only illumination came from bare overhead light bulbs, glittering yellow in the musky air.
"Am I to stay here?" asked Chiun.
"Afraid so, old man," Remo said.
"I will catch my death of cold."
"You'll be gone before the first sniffle," Remo said. "I promise."
"You are always thoughtful."
The guard led them down the dank passageway, the moisture on the stone floor muffling their steps. He stood aside to let Chiun pass, then placed a hand on the old man's shoulder to push him into the last cell on the right.
The guard pushed, but nothing happened. It was as if he had leaned against a wall. He pushed again. Chiun turned toward him.
"Restrain your hands, ferret-faced one," he said.
"Abuse I take from the fearsome PJ Kenny, but you take no such liberties."
He turned his back then on the surprised guard and stepped into the cell. It held a narrow wooden cot with a limp, spring-less mattress. There was a sink and a toilet.
"All the comforts of home," Remo said, standing in the door.
"Thank you," said Chiun. "I will remember you with fondness."
"Now why don't you try telling me where Williams is?"
"He is near," Chiun said. "He is near."
Remo heard footsteps coming down the corridor toward them and turned. Along the passageway came Nemeroff, pushing Maggie Waters along in front of him, towering over her in the dim light of the dungeon like some powerful monster from a dream.
He pushed Maggie with one last thrust and she fell against Remo.
"You look surprised, Mr. Kenny," Nemeroff said. "She is the agent that was captured on the grounds."
"I didn't think she had followed me," he said. To Maggie, he said: "A British agent? And I thought you just wanted me for my body." She refused to look up and buried her head against her blue short dress.
Maggie did something very un-agentlike. She began to weep.
Nemeroff pushed her again, this time into the reach of the guard. "Put her in a cell," he said, "and make her comfortable." The guard smirked.
He pushed Maggie in the cell opposite Chiun's. She staggered to the middle of the floor, then stood there quietly. Slowly, she lifted her head until she was standing proudly erect.
"Attagirl, kid. Keep a stiff upper lip," Remo called.
She turned to him with a look of total hatred. The guard meanwhile had taken manacles down from a hook on the wall. He snapped a pair on her wrists, and then another pair around her ankles.
All the while, he talked, a soliloquy to himself.
"The little lady's going to like this. Englishwomen always like to show off. The little lady's going to get a chance. To show off everything. Will the little lady like that?"
He kept talking as he took from the same wall hook, a short length of chain with a padlock hung open on its end. "Wait till the little lady sees what I've got planned for her. The little lady's going to be proud to show off the merchandise, isn't she?"
He grabbed the cuffs around Maggie's wrists and pulled her toward the back wall of the cell. Imbedded in the stone floor was a large iron ring, and the guard pressed Maggie's upper body downward, until her wrists were near the ring. Then he looped the chain through the wrist manacles, under the ring, through the chains on Maggie's ankles, and fastened it with the padlock.
"Does little lady like that?" he said. Maggie was facing the rear wall now, bent over from the waist as if trying to touch her toes during her morning exercises. Her short skirt had ridden up over her buttocks, and she wore no undergarments, and Remo could almost sense her embarrassment at the view her jutting posterior gave to the men behind her.
The guard still talked. "Little lady going to be nice to her friends, isn't she?" and he rubbed his hand down one soft buttock.