"I admit it is circumstantial, but it appears telling. The fax was signed Captain Audion."
"Audion?"
"An old-style vacuum tube critical to early TV reception."
"So? KNNN is cable."
"You might recall that in his more flamboyant days, KNNN president Jed Burner was known by the sobriquet of Captain Audacious."
"Audacious. Audion. Hmmm. Isn't that kind of obvious?"
"Only if the fax source is known to the people Captain Audion is attempting to extort. It was a blind fax. He cannot know I have determined its origin."
"How do you know these things, Smith?"
"Sorry. Privileged."
"The last guy told me you were like that. All right," the President said tightly, "what do you suggest?"
"The national economy, never mind public peace of mind, cannot afford a seven-hour blackout. I am putting my people in the field."
The President's swallow was audible. His raspy voice became tinged with reluctance. "If you think this warrants it."
"I do."
"Well, I guess there's nothing more to say, is there?"
"No, Mr. President. I just wanted you to know."
Harold Smith returned the red receiver to its cradle and lifted the blue contact phone handset, reflecting that it was always difficult breaking in a new chief executive. Now more than ever it was fortunate that CURE stood prepared.
There were a great many questions that remained to be answered, but one thing was certain. After tonight, the threat of a television blackout would be nullified.
The Destroyer would see to that.
Chapter 9
The first problem Remo encountered was getting out of the Atlanta airport.
Remo had been in airports all over the world, ranging from tiny cubicles in distant deserts to urban mazes. But this place was Byzantine. There was more space in the complex than out on the runways. Most of it seemed designed to impress other airport architects.
Remo got lost twice before someone directed him to the automated buses.
He got on the first one that arrived, and it began talking to him in a silly-ass 1950s robot voice.
"Welcome to Atlanta. Welcome to Atlanta. This is Terminal A. The next stop is . . ."
"Shut up," Remo snapped.
". . . Terminal B. If you would like me to stop at Terminal B, press . . ."
"Shut up!"
"Welcome to Atlanta. The next stop . "
There was no one else on the bus, so Remo gave the wall a kick.
"iiiisssss . . . squawwk . . ."
Immediately, he felt better. But not by much.
Once outside, Remo hailed a cab. The dogwood-scented city air was sultry entering his lungs. It was still too full of hydrocarbons and metallic traces for his taste, but it least it was a change. Remo wasn't so sure he liked living in New England. The climate and foliage reminded him of North Korea.
"Where to, friend?" the cab driver asked in a mellow Southern drawl.
"Peachtree," said Remo.
"Which Peachtree?"
Remo frowned. The call from Harold Smith had told him to go to the KNNN headquarters on Peachtree. That was all. It seemed enough.
"There's more than one?" he asked.
"More than one? There's dozens. Take your pick." The cabby began ticking off items on his thick fingers. "Peachtree Lane, Peachtree Road, Peachtree Street, Peachtree Circle and then you got your Peachtree Avenue-"
Remo brightened. "Avenue! That's it, Avenue."
"Good. Now is that Peachtree Avenue East, or Peachtree Avenue West?"
Remo's face fell. "Happen to know where the KNNN building is?"
"Which one?"
"The one on Peachtree," Remo said.
"There's two on Peachtree. They call them KNNN South and KNNN Not South."
"Not South?"
"You hang a North on a business down in these parts, you might as well torch it the next day."
"Take me to the nearest one," Remo sighed, settling back into the cushions. He was starting to feel glad the Master of Sinanju had decided to stay behind.
After receiving the word to move on KNNN from Harold Smith, Remo had reluctantly awakened Chiun. He would have preferred not to. But he knew that he would catch hell either way.
The first words out of the Master of Sinanju's excited mouth were, "It is happening? Is the baby coming! Tell me!"