"You know-the one who reads news."
"The anchor?"
"Yes. The deceiving Canadian anchor."
"You decapitated Dieter Banning?"
"He refused to confess his crimes. I demanded to know the whereabouts of Cheeta the Fecund, and he resisted, showering vile curses and imprecations upon my person. So I snuffed him."
"You put pressure on him first, right?"
"Correct."
"And he still insisted he had nothing to do with any of it?"
"He did not say that. He cursed me."
"You've been cursed at before. Usually you remove a few fingers. Sometimes a tongue. What's the big deal?"
The Master of Sinanju grew silent. His lower lip pouted out. "He spoke ill of Cheeta. He called her a slant-eyed goop."
"He ranked her out and you went ballistic?"
"I avenged the honor of a fellow Korean," Chiun sniffed.
"And lost the only lead we had."
"He was no lead. He had nothing to do with anything."
"Says you."
"No one holds his tongue whom the Master of Sinanju holds by the throat. You know this."
Remo said nothing. He did know it. No one could possibly resist the awful, agonizing pain Chiun was capable of inflicting. If Dieter Banning knew anything about Cheeta Ching, Chiun would have gotten it out of him. No question.
Ordinarily, that would have settled that. But Banning had been wearing a kilt when he died. And Cheeta Ching's abductor had been wearing a kilt too. What the hell did it mean?
At the Newark Airport, Remo called Harold Smith from a payphone. The Master of Sinanju hovered close.
"Smitty, Remo."
"What is the situation, Remo?"
"We ran into a little trouble."
"What kind?"
"You haven't heard?"
"No news is getting out."
"Well," Remo said, lifting his voice. "Chiun-who's here with me now-went on ahead to-ANC without me. It seems Cheeta Ching has been kidnapped by Captain Audion."
Hearing this, Chiun raised his voice. "Remo was too slow, Emperor Smith. I dared not wait for him with Cheeta Ching in peril."
"Chiun blew into ANC and-"
"I was attacked the moment I entered the building," Chiun shouted. "I had to defend myself. The place is a viper's nest of Canadians. Vicious, antiAmerican Canadians."
Smith groaned. "There are casualties?"
"Piles of them," Remo admitted.
Smith groaned again.
"Chiun tried to get Dieter Banning to talk. Banning wouldn't. He insulted Cheeta. So Chiun wasted him."
"Remo, are you certain of this?"
"I saw the body myself. Of course, it didn't have its head, but it was wearing a kilt."
The Master of Sinanju held his breath.
No sound came from the receiver.
Then, in a low voice, Harold Smith asked, "A kilt?"
"Yeah," Remo said guardedly. "A kilt."
The Master of Sinanju looked from the silent receiver to his pupil.
"Why is this kilt important?" he asked suspiciously.
"Who said it was important?" Remo asked in a too-innocent voice.
"The tone of your voice."
Smith said, "Put Master Chiun on, Remo."
"A pleasure. Here. Smitty wants to talk to you."
The Master of Sinanju took up the receiver and said, "I am listening, Emperor Smith."
"There is a report that Cheeta Ching was abducted by a man who wore a kilt."
Chiun's eyes narrowed to slits. "A Scotsman?"