"It is the city named after one of your breads."
"Bread?"
"Yes, in the province of New York."
"City or state?"
"Is there a difference?" demanded the Master of Sinanju impatiently. "It is the one where Harold Smith resides." Why was it that these whites insisted on giving the same name to entirely different places? Usually names stolen from other countries. Once he had noticed a Cairo, Illinois, and a Carthage, New York, on a map. There were also a Paris, Texas, and a Troy, Ohio. Chiun once awoke from a particularly terrible nightmare in which the mothers of his village were forced to once again drown their starving babies as they did in the old times, because ignorant modern kings had been sending their emissaries to negotiate with the Master of Sinanju, Utah.
"New York City is in New York State," said the operator.
"Then it is in New York State because New York City is south of this place, which is called Folcroft."
"I don't have a listing for a Folcroft, New York," said the operator.
"I did not say the town was called Folcroft, stupid woman," Chiun snapped. "I said it was one of your bread names. Folcroft is the building."
"There is no need to shout, sir," the operator said indignantly.
"I am waiting."
"I have a listing for a Folcroft Sanitarium in Rye, New York. Is that what you want?"
"Of course. What other Folcrofts are there? Never mind," Chiun said quickly, realizing that he might have to listen to a twelve-hour recitation of all the other American Folcrofts. "I wish to speak with Harold Smith."
"And your name?"
"I am under cover and forbidden to identify myself."
"Er, one moment."
After a few seconds, a telephone ringing greeted Chiun's eager ears. The dry voice of Dr. Harold W. Smith, known in the Book of Sinanju variously as Smith the First, Smith the Generous, Smith the Frugal, and Mad Harold, said, "Hello?"
"I have a collect call for Harold Smith."
"From whom?" Smith asked suspiciously. "The gentleman refuses to identify himself."
"I do not accept collect calls from strangers," Smith snapped.
"It is not strangers, it is I," said Chiun suddenly.
"Please, sir," the operator said. "You are not permitted to talk to the other party unless he agrees to accept the call."
"I will accept," Smith said quickly. "Go ahead, Master of ... er, Master."
The operator got off the line and Chiun launched into his complaint.
"Emperor Smith, we have a problem."
"Yes?" Smith's voice was tight.
"It is Remo. I fear he will be unable to accomplish this assignment."
"Is he injured?"
"Yes, mentally injured. He is suffering greatly. He talks of incense and vestal virgins he knew in his earlier life, and there is a new woman who has him in her thrall. "
"I'm afraid Remo's romantic predilections are not sufficient to pull him off this assignment."
"He is being poisoned by this place. I fear that if he remains any longer, he will go over to the enemy."
"What enemy?"
"Reverend Sluggard."
"I have no information indicating that Sluggard is anything but a target of Iranian fundamentalists. What makes you say he is the enemy?"
"Anyone who speaks honeyed words that draw Remo away from the path of Sinanju is the enemy."
"I see. Are you saying that Remo is experiencing a religious conversion of some type?"
"I would not call it that. I would call it a reversion. It is all he talks about now. Faith and sin and other trivia."
"I'm sorry, Master Chiun. I agree with you that if Remo is experiencing a religious reawakening, that could cause problems for us, but right now this assignment must be carried out. Have you learned anything?"
"Yes. It was during this priest's television program. He is launching a Crusade."
"So?"
"A Crusade," repeated Chiun. "Do you not know your history?"
"Of course I do," Smith said peevishly, the insult in his voice for once matching Chiun's. He was proud of his straight-A pluses in history that started in the fifth grade and continued, an unbroken testament to Smith's studiousness and lack of a normal social life, all the way up to his graduation from Dartmouth College.
"Are you not concerned?"
"I think you misunderstand," said Smith reasonably. "Sluggard is not talking about a crusade in the sense of the old incursions into the Holy Land, but a crusade for funds."
"I have seen how he tricks people out of money, too. But I heard the words he spoke. He spoke of a holy war. "
"Many of these television ministers solicit money in different ways. And regardless of how questionable Sluggard's methods may be, our concern is not that, but in any activities that might have attracted the attention of the Iranian hierarchy."
"Then send Remo and me to Iran. We are known there. We will talk to their caliph. We will find your answers, and negotiate an excellent treaty. But in this place, we will learn nothing and perhaps lose our Remo."
"I'm sorry, master Chiun. Relations with the Iranians are very sensitive at this moment. We can't be seen doing business with them and we don't dare stir them up any more than they have been. Do your best at this end. Good-bye."
The Master of Sinanju slammed down the receiver. Of course it cracked. Why did they insist upon making these aggravating instruments out of plastic and not iron? Iron did not shatter under normal use.