"Now you know how it feels," said Remo.
"You know full well I cannot go home. The Russians may have backed down, but CURE is finished. And so am I."
"Your choice," said Remo.
"I need a favor," said Smith
"Yeah?"
"I only had one poison pill. Do you think you could-"
"What? You want me to kill you?"
"Please, Remo. It's my duty."
"Not me. I'm retired, as of today."
Smith, a disappointed expression on his lemony face, turned to the Master of Sinanju.
"Master of Sinanju, I wonder if you could grant a final boon?"
"Yes?" Chiun said brightly.
"I must not live beyond today."
"How unfortunate for you," Chiun said.
"Do you think you could eliminate me? Painlessly?"
The Master of Sinanju frowned. "How much money do you have with you?" he said after some thought.
"Money?" asked Smith, perplexed.
"Yes, of course. You are no longer a client, so you must expect to pay for service."
Smith dug out his wallet and found there an assortment of bills. He counted them.
"I have over six thousand dollars in traveler's checks."
"No checks," said Chiun firmly.
"But these are guaranteed."
Chiun shook his old head stubbornly.
"I also have nearly thirty-seven dollars. American."
"Worse," said Chiun. "You have no gold?"
"No, of course not."
"Silver?"
"Some coins." Smith poured out the contents of his change purse into Chiun's hands.
Chiun examined them. And promptly dropped them to the ground disdainfully. "Not pure silver. No good. Come back when you have gold," said the Master of Sinanju, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.
Smith turned back to Remo. "Remo, please."
Just then the phone in Smith's briefcase buzzed.
Smith went ashen.
"What? This can't be. Incoming calls are poured through Folcroft. Those computers are dead."
"Surprise," said Remo.
The phone kept buzzing.
Smith opened the briefcase. Holding it clumsily across one arm, he tapped the keypad. There was no downlink from St. Martin. Those computers were definitely dead. But when he signaled Folcroft, he got an "ACCESS CODE REQUIRED" response. He almost dropped the briefcase in shock.
"Why don't you answer the phone, Smitty?" Remo asked.
Smith did.
"Yes, Mr. President?" he asked hoarsely.
After a pause, he said, "Yes, Mr. President. I understand the Soviets have let us off the hook. The crisis is over, yes. Resume operations? Yes, that is possible. The main computers are still functioning. Somehow," he added under his breath.
"Remo?" Smith suddenly looked up at Remo. Remo frowned. He made a throat-cutting gesture with his finger.
Smith straightened up. "I'm sorry, Mr. President. Your call came too late. I regret to inform you that Remo Williams is no longer with us. Yes, sir. I took care of that matter personally. Yes, it is regrettable. Very. And I'm afraid our signing Chiun's contract over to the Soviets has broken an important provision. He won't be with us any longer either. My error entirely. I had forgotten that clause. No, I doubt that the Master of Sinanju would consider training another, after what happened to Remo."
Remo watched the first peep of sunlight break over the eastern hills. He whistled a happy tune to himself. It was the theme from Born Free.
"Yes, Mr. President," Smith continued, putting a finger to his ear to keep out the sound. "I will return immediately. I'm sure that we can continue operations without them."
Dr. Harold W. Smith hung up the phone and closed his briefcase. He cleared his throat noisily. "Thanks, Smitty," Remo said simply.
"I can't understand what happened. The erasure codes were foolproof. They couldn't fail."
"But they did. It all worked out, so try not to lose any sleep over it."
"Of course. You're right," Smith said. He put out his hand.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Smith asked. Remo shook Smith's hand firmly.