But he couldn't.
The ancient Oriental who had taken over most of the back seat of Grassione's limousine had made that very clear.
"Just a little longer," he had said.
"And then it'll be over?" Grassione asked.
"Yes. And then there is Search for Yesterday and Private Sanitarium and The Young and the Foolish and Hours of Our Sorrow and finally Rad Rex starring as Dr. Whitlow Wyatt, noted surgeon, in As the Planet Revolves."
"That'll take all day. I can't wait for all that crap," Grassione said. He looked to the front of the car and Big Vince Marino turned around on the seat, ready to help Grassione if he needed it.
"What?" Chiun said. "You would leave before seeing As the Planet Revolves"? Starring Rad Rex?"
"You're damned right," Grassione said, but the old man did not answer because the commercials had ended and The Gathering Clouds had started again.
Grassione was ready to tell Marino to chase the old man from the car when there was a loud thump, as if there had been an explosion nearby.
The old Oriental sat bolt upright on the car seat. He closed his eyes as if concentrating, then pushed open the door.
"I would like to stay with you to watch our daytime dramas," he said, "but my child needs me."
"Yeah, right," Grassione said. "We always gotta take care of our kids."
"Isn't it true?" Chiun said, and then he was gone from the car, and Grassione, without looking back, motioned Marino to drive off. If it had been an explosion, he didn't want to be on campus when the police arrived to investigate.
On the way to the boatyard, Grassione explained his plans to Leung and Marion. They would kill Massello, kill Leen Forth, and take Wooley's Dreamocizer back to Uncle Pietro in New York.
He rubbed his hands in anticipation. "It'll be a good day's work."
"Sure will, boss," Marino chuckled. "Sure will."
Edward Leung said nothing.
A guard stood at the gate to the boatyard when the black limousine pulled up. He looked into the back seat where Grassione was watching a rerun of Death Valley Days.
"Hello, Mr. Grassione," he said.
"Hi, kid," Grassione said.
"Don Salvatore's expecting you. Go right on in."
Grassione winked and waved. Throughout the entire conversation, he had not taken his eyes off the television set.
Leung drove slowly forward over the bumpy rutted road and Grassione told the two men what to do.
"I'll take care of Don Salvatore," he said. "You be hanging around and when you hear the shot, then you take care of his men. Do it quick and do it right. You understand?"
"Right, boss," Marino said.
"What about you, Charlie Chan?" Grassione asked.
"Whatever you say," Leung said sullenly.
Grassione left Leung and Marino on the deck talking to Massello's two bodyguards as he went down the steps into the body of the ship.
Don Salvatore was sitting in a lounge big enough to be a restaurant's dining room when Grassione entered. Seated on a chair across from Massello was Leen Forth. She was crying.
On a coffee table between them was a small plastic box, the size of a large dictionary, crammed with wires and transistors.
"You got it," Grassione said.
Massello shushed him with a slight upward wave of his right hand. He was wearing a silken smoking jacket. He rose and said, "Leen Forth, this is Mr. Grassione, a businesss associate. Arthur, this is Leen Forth Wooley. She has just suffered a terrible tragedy. Her father passed away today."
The girl stood up and turned to Grassione. There were tears in the angled eyes, that ran gently down her round cheeks. Grassione had not noticed the other night how beautiful the girl was.
"Sorry about your father," he mumbled.
"Thank you," she said. She lowered her eyes.
"Leen Forth," Masselo said, putting a fatherly arm around the girl's shoulders. "Why don't you go up and walk on deck? Arthur and I will only be a few moments. The air will do you good."
Dully, like a battery-powered doll that was running down, Leen Forth nodded and shuffled past Grassione. He watched her behind approvingly as she passed through the door toward the stairs.
Massello waited until the door was closed before he said to Grassione: "Success. We have it. And the girl will do anything I say."
"Anything?" Grassione said with a lift of his eyebrows.
"Do not be vulgar, Arthur. She is little more than a child."
"Yeah, but you know how them gooks are. They start when they're ten, eleven years old."
Massello took a cigar from a pearl-inlaid box and lit it with a wood-encased butane lighter whose color matched the deep rich paneling of the walls.
"Yes," he said exhaling a puff of smoke. "But we have other things to do than to discuss the sexual customs of the Orient. I suppose you'll be returning now to New York."
Grassione nodded. He turned away to look at the room.
"Your Uncle Pietro will be very happy," Massello said. "We will pay less for the device than we expected."
"Much less," said Grassione. He snaked his hand under his jacket and wheeled on Salvatore Massello. "Much less," he repeated.
Massello coolly took another puff on his cigar before nodding toward the automatic in Grassione's hand.
"What is this, Arthur?"
"Uncle Pietro sends his love, Don Salvatore. Take it with you to hell."