But there was nothing he could do. His emperor had forbidden him from taking action.
Then, abruptly, the screen went black and a sonorous voice said, "There is nothing wrong with your television set . . . "
Remo was reading Calvin en the KNNN anchor said, "On a lighter note, Canadian authorities are unable to explain the discovery on a remote mountaintop in Quebec of a religious statue of a kind normally seen perched on South American hillsides."
At the sound of the word "Quebec," both Remo and Harold Smith looked up from their reading.
A Quantel graphic materialized beside the anchor's serious face-and the screen turned to snow and static.
Remo changed the channel. And got blackness.
"There is nothing wrong with your television set . . . " a voice began saying.
"What's this crap?" Remo exploded.
"I do not understand," Smith muttered. "The ransom has been paid."
"Maybe the checks bounced."
"Wire transfers do not bounce," said Smith as Remo changed channels. Not every channel was blacked out. A number of cable stations was in service. The networks were down. As was Nickelodeon and MTV, and a smattering of others.
"Try KNNN again," Smith directed.
Remo obliged. The KNNN transmission was just snow.
"Think their dishes went down again?" Remo said.
"Coincident with the new blackout? Not likely."
Then KNNN came back on. With a technical difficulties graphic depicting a broken anchor. A voiceover said, "Please stand by while KNNN switches to its backup film library."
"Must mean that robot-controlled room I saw," Remo said.
The graphic went away. And filling the screen was a slab of unreflective basalt decorated by the words:
NO SIGNAL.
"Impossible," snapped Smith. "A cable transmission cannot be masked like that."
Captain Audion began speaking. "There is nothing wrong with your television set . . ."
Remo switched channels. On the network feeds, Captain Audion was already deep into his recitation.
"It's not the same signal," Remo said.
"You are right," said Smith.
Just then, the office door burst in and the Master of Sinanju, eyes ablaze, leapt in.
"Emperor Smith! The faceless fiend has struck again! You must do something. We must ransom Cheeta before it is too late."
Smith picked up the red telephone and was soon speaking with the President.
"If we move quickly, we may be able to trace the signal," Smith said.
"So will the Canadians."
"My people can move on instant notice."
"The fiend will die with his very own anchor wrapped around his lying throat," Chiun shrieked.
"What was that?" asked the President.
"Later," said Smith. "Time is of the essence." He hung up.
Remo asked, "Anything we can do?"
Smith frowned at the black TV screen.
"There must be some reason Audion went back on his word so quickly. But what?"
"But that's good, isn't it?" said Remo. "He can be traced now, right?"
"Yes. But it will take hours for the tracking planes to . . ." Smith's bloodless lips thinned.
"What? What?" squeaked Chiun.
"Perhaps there is another way."
"Speak the words, O Emperor Smith, and your loyal assassins will wreak your holy vengeance on the Canadian pirates."
Remo stared at the Master of Sinanju. "Holy?"
Chiun glowered back.
Smith winced, "Please, I must think."
The Master of Sinanju came down off his toes and dropped his upflung arms. He squinted one eye thoughtfully at Harold Smith.
"Captain Audion had a reason for restoring the blackout, despite being paid," Smith was saying. "A reason that overrode the danger of his signal being traced."
"Not necessarily," said Chiun.
Smith looked up from his thoughts. "Excuse me?"
"Everyone knows that Canadians are notoriously irrational."