"You are very astute," said the Master of Sinanju. "For a mere female."
Reluctantly Pepsie took her seat next to the little wisp of a man, and the cabbie went to the back of the plane. Within a few minutes the jet was airborne.
After the Please Fasten Seat Belts light was doused, Pepsie turned to the old Asian and complained, "It wouldn't have hurt you to be nice to me."
"I do not see you being nice to me."
"But I'm an important network correspondent."
The face of the old Asian gathered its wrinkles together like parchment taking on water. "Pah! I am even more important than you."
"How so?"
"I am the resolute guardian of the throne of America."
"That's nice," said Pepsie in a thin voice, instantly dismissing the old man as senile.
The old Asian lapsed into silence.
"Of course," the old man added after a long pause, "it is a state secret."
Not looking up from her copy of People, Pepsie murmured, "What is?"
"The fact that I serve the true ruler of America in a secret capacity. Do not tell anyone."
"I won't."
"It is a thankless task."
"I'm sure it is."
"Especially thankless since I am reduced to protecting the puppet President and not Emperor Smith."
Pepsie shook off her disinterest. "Puppet President?"
"He is a sham. Though few know it."
"I'm sure," Pepsie said vaguely.
"Your entire government is a sham. A sham and a farce."
"But never dull."
"But this is what an assassin is reduced to in these odious times."
"Excuse me. Did you say 'assassin'?"
The old Asian placed a thin finger like a yellowed mummy bone to his papery lips. "Secret assassin."
"You're an assassin?"
"Secret."
"This is very interesting," said Pepsie, surreptitiously reaching into her purse and squeezing the Record button on her minicassette recorder.
"Of course, I cannot speak about it. Tongues would wag-"
"They always do. But just between you and I, you didn't have anything to do with what happened here today?"
"The disgrace?"
"Yeah. The disgrace."
"It was a base act. To use a boom stick and strike down a member of the palace guard and not the proper target."
"You think it's bad they got the wrong guy?"
"It is a disgrace. A proper assassin dispatches his target and no other. And he does this without resorting to smoke and thunder."
"So if it were you, the President would have been killed?"
"If it were I," the old man said, "the puppet would not only have expired, but have expired in a way that no one would ever suspect fool play."
"You mean foul play."
"A chicken would be insulted by what happened this day."
"Really?"
"Truly." The old man lapsed into another long silence. His quick hazel eyes went continually to the gleaming aluminum wing just below the window.
"We are past the point of danger," he said after a while.
"You mean the country?"
"No. I mean this conveyance. The wing has not fallen off. Typically this only happens in the first ten minutes. If it has not fallen off now, it is unlikely to do so until we are again on the ground. By then, it does not matter if the wing falls off or not."
"Back to the puppet President," Pepsie said quickly. "If he's a puppet, who pulls his strings?"
"Emperor Smith. It is he who truly rules this land and who, for stubborn reasons I cannot understand, allows the fallacy of democracy to lurch on unchecked."
"You mean, like voting?"
"Another sham."
"I've never voted."