"--of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion--"
Remo straightened out the brass table leg, snapped it from the table, then wrapped it around Franko's neck, tightly enough to frighten him, not so tight that it would hurt him.
"I'll be quiet," Franko said meekly.
"What do you want?" Bondini said.
"Who's Buell? The owner?" Remo asked.
"We just met him once," Bondini said. "Abner Buell. A twerpy-looking guy with plastic hair. I don't even really know him."
Remo looked at the other two men, who shook their heads.
"Why were you going to kill us then?" Remo asked.
"Because I didn't want to beat my mother with a stick," Bondini said.
"And I won't make it with no sheep," said Hubble.
"Or a corpse," said Franko.
It took Remo a while to sort it all out but with Pamela's help, he finally figured out that the three men were counting on getting some money from the owner of the place and they didn't even know who Remo was. He was glad about that because it meant that he would not have to kill them.
"How were you supposed to notify Buell that I was dead?" Remo asked.
"He didn't tell us."
Remo said to Pamela, "That means this place is wired or something. Probably sound and camera."
He turned back to the three men. "All right. You guys can go."
"That's it?" Bondini asked.
"You're not going to turn us in?" asked Hubble.
"Not me, pal. Go in peace."
Franko was silent, gazing out toward the ocean. Finally he said, "There was one thing."
"What was that?"
"The guy who owns this place. I heard him say he had a place just like it in Carmel and he was expecting company. Does that help?"
"Yes," Remo said. "Thanks."
"It's better than making it with a corpse," Franko said as he walked toward the door. He paused in the doorway.
"Another thing," he said.
"What?" said Remo.
"--of this battlefield as a final resting place for those who here gave--" he said, and then ran as Remo started toward him.
* * *
In Carmel, north along the Pacific shoreline, Buell turned off the television monitor and said to Mr. Hamuta, "Get yourself ready. He should be here soon."
"I am always ready," Hamuta said.
"You'd better be."
Hamuta left and Marcia came into the room. Buell graced her with one of his infrequent and emotionless smiles. She was wearing a train engineer's outfit, but the legs of the jeans were cut off almost to her crotch and she had on no shirt and her breasts bobbled back and forth under the overalls' bib front.
"He escaped, this Remo?" she said.
"Yes."
"Who can he be?" she asked.
"Some government spy. I don't know," said Buell.
"Too bad he escaped," she said.
"No, it isn't. He was supposed to, remember? I just wanted him to be on his guard when he gets here. Make it a tougher game for Hamuta."
"Suppose Hamuta fails?" the woman asked.
"He never fails."
"But if he does?" the redhead persisted.
Buell rubbed a hand over his patent-leathered hair. "It doesn't matter," he said. "The whole world still goes up. Boom."
"I can't wait," Marcia said. "I can't wait."
sChapter Ten
"He flew the coop, Smitty," Remo said. "But I know who he is."
"Who?" asked Smith, whose computers had discovered the Malibu house but had not been able to identify its owner.
"Abner Buell."
"The Abner Buell?" asked Smith.
"An," said Remo.