"Believe it or not, Remo, as vicious as these people can be, they are very canny and politically astute. Until now they have carefully targeted U.S. interests abroad, but this time there seem to be no restrictions. We have no idea what has triggered this, but it's big. Huge. That's why I'm on my way to Washington. I'm going to personally interrogate this man. The sooner we have answers, the quicker we can move effectively against the instigators. Right now, we're reduced to putting out brushfires."
"Why not let Chiun and me handle the interrogation? We can squeeze the truth out of him faster than you can call your travel agent."
"No good. The Lincoln Memorial is a national symbol. If it goes, even without loss of life, it would be a blow to our national prestige worse than Pearl Harbor. It would show the world that we cannot even protect our nation's capital."
"I guess I follow, but Chiun could have handled this. "
"I could not take that chance. I wasn't certain he would understand the technical problem of the detonator."
"I heard that," said Chiun loudly.
"What was that?" Smith asked.
"He's pissed. I let slip that you sometimes find him difficult."
Smith sighed. "His feelings will have to take a back seat to this situation."
"I heard that too," Chiun shouted.
"Never mind," Remo put in. "We're off to the Lincoln Memorial."
"Don't let it be destroyed, Remo," Smith warned.
"Not me. Count on it."
Remo hung up and turned to the Master of Sinanju, who fumed, his foot tapping impatiently.
"After all these years," said Chiun. "After all these years of faithful service, now I know how that man truly feels about me."
"Can it, Chiun. Smith has a lot on his mind. Let's grab a cab."
"And who is he to order us around like chess pieces? Without proper rest or nourishment. For too long we have done his bidding. And for what? What?" demanded the Master of Sinanju as he followed Remo out of the terminal and to a taxi stand.
"For gold," Remo said, flagging a cab. He opened the door for Chiun and slid in after him. The cab got going.
"Yes," said Chiun. "For mere gold."
"Gold? Mere? I never thought I'd hear you say those two words together."
"There are more things in life than gold," said the Master of Sinanju.
"I know that, but I didn't know that you knew that. While we're in traffic, regale me with a few choice examples."
"There are coffee breaks. When has Smith ever given us a morning coffee break? Even lowly cabdrivers get those."
The driver peered into the rearview mirror sourly.
"We don't drink coffee, Little Father. Caffeine is like rat poison to our digestive systems."
"It is not the coffee. It is the break. We could have a rice break."
"I'd like a break from eating rice."
"And what about a pension plan? And health insurance?"
"We're assassins. If we live to see our old age, it will be a miracle."
"You perhaps, but I expect to see my old age. Someday. Years from now."
"Uh-huh," Remo said. "I think you're just cruising for a grudge. You can't blame Smith for finding you tough to take sometimes."
"Why? Why? Tell me what I ever did to annoy him."
"For one thing, you carp a lot."
"Carp? Carp? Me? Carp? I never carp. Or complain. Although I have a good reason, what with a white for a pupil and another white for an emperor. And Smith is not even a proper emperor. When was the last time he wore a crown upon his head?"
"Got me. I can't remember the first time."
"I must write these things down. They will all go into my next contract negotiation. In the future I will require that Smith wear a crown when he deals with me. It is what my ancestors were accustomed to. It is what I am entitled to."
"And that's another thing. Your escalating demands. Another five years of contracts, and America will be bankrupt."
Chiun raised a finger. "But safe. And safety has no price. Let the American people work harder. Let them pay more taxes. Do you know that if fewer Americans cheated on their taxes, Smith could afford to pay us more?"
"We should stop in at the IRS when this is over," Remo sighed, folding his arms. "I'm sure they'd be captivated by your collection ideas."
"They are not for sale," Chiun sniffed.
"They pay a finder's fee, you know. Based on percentage."
"When you pay the driver, ask him for the IRA's address."
"That's IRS. The IRA is a different terrorist group. But you could probably find work with them too, if you're so unhappy with Smith."
The driver turned back to face them. They were on the Virginia side of the Arlington Memorial Bridge, which spanned the Potomac River. "This is as far as I can take you two," he said. "Looks like they have the bridge shut down. Must be an accident or something."
"I heard the Lincoln Memorial is under siege," Remo said.
"No shit. Those Democrats sure took the last election hard," the cabby remarked.
"Guess so," Remo said, paying the man off. Chiun followed him through the lines of stalled cars, which honked and grumbled up to the banks of the Potomac.
"This is going to be a tough one," Remo said as the brilliantly lighted Lincoln Memorial came into view. The night was alive with the red and blue lights of official vehicles. There were National Guard troops deployed even on this side of the Potomac.
"Not with me to help you avoid mistakes."