"It was," Smith said. "But the circumstances have obviously changed. I had thought you would have called in, given the latest developments."
"What latest developments?"
"You did not hear of the abduction?" Smith asked.
"Smitty, I'm in Hollywood," Remo said sourly. "If the talk isn't about gross points, back-end deals or the new all-cabbage diet, it ain't talked about. What abduction?"
Smith took a deep breath. He went on to explain about the kidnapping of the secretary of state and her entourage in Ebla. He also told Remo of the threats against America's entertainment industry, Israel and the call for the cessation of funds to the Jewish state.
"Sounds like you called it right as far as the great Omay is concerned," Remo said once Smith was through.
"I have managed to tap into the computer files of his personal physician in New York," Smith continued. "What I learned might explain the sultan's change. As you probably know already, he was quite ill more than a decade ago."
"Didn't he almost die?" Remo asked.
"Had he remained in Ebla he would have. Their medical technology is woefully inadequate. It was at this time that he began his peace overtures to the West."
"He made nice-nice with us because he wanted to save his own ass," Remo commented.
"That is the likeliest scenario. But after his recovery he remained a tenuous friend of Western interests."
Smith grew uncomfortable. It was always difficult for him to gauge the motivations of madmen. He pressed on. "It is possible that during this period he simply enjoyed the notoriety his role as peacemaker afforded him," the CURE director offered. He didn't seem convinced of his own argument. Years of toiling in anonymity did not afford Smith much insight into the minds of grandstanders.
"He liked the limelight," Remo said, accepting Smith's appraisal. "That's not a bad conclusion, especially considering the whacked-out town I'm in right now."
"Yes," Smith said. "In any event his cancer receded and he has since given lip service to peace. He has been allowed in and out of the United States for years."
"Then another possibility is that he was afraid of a relapse," Remo suggested. "If he went back to his old ways, we'd never let him back in this country again."
"That is true," Smith said. "And we will not, although given his current prognosis it seems no longer to matter one way or another."
"Why?" asked Remo. "Is he sick again?"
"According to his medical records he is terminal."
Alone in Bindle and Marmelstein's office, Remo frowned. "That's nuts," he said. "He's got to know we'd pop him the minute he comes in for treatment."
"He has forgone all treatments," Smith explained. "The prognosis was grim regardless. He opted not to endure radiation treatment or futile surgery. He has not been back to see his doctor in eight months."
"He's not coming back, is he?" Remo said glumly.
"Neither to New York nor from the abyss of madness, it would seem," Smith replied tightly.
"All right," Remo said. "I see where this is going. Book me on the first plane to Ebla"
The CURE director's response surprised him.
"Absolutely not," Smith insisted.
"Why?"
"The situation in Ebla has grown more tense since the abduction," Smith explained. "I do not know if you are aware of the geography of the region, but Ebla rests largely above Lebanon on the Mediterranean."
"I've got a rough idea," Remo admitted.
"Then you might know that there is a strip of land in Ebla a few miles wide called the Anatolia Corridor. It runs the length of Lebanon down to the northern border of Israel, sandwiched between Syria and Lebanon. Since the abduction it has become known to our intelligence services that the Ebla Arab Army has begun to mass at the bottom of the Anatolia Corridor. They have been joined on maneuvers by members of the Akkadad Public Security Force. In addition the Royal Eblan Air Force is on full alert."
"If he's thinking Ebla can take on Israel, he's going to be in for a big surprise," Remo noted.
"Perhaps not," Smith answered. "While Ebla alone is no match for Israel militarily, it is likely that such an action on the part of one Arab state could spur other nations in the region to similar action. Israel would be no match for the combined forces of Ebla, Iran, Iraq and Syria, for instance."
"Okay, I don't get it, Smitty," Remo said with growing impatience. "You don't want me to bump off Omay and you don't want me to bump off Assola. What the hell do you want me to do?"
"Nothing for the moment. The United States is in the process of increasing our military presence in the Mediterranean and Persian Gulf. Allied nations are joining suit. The President has informed me that he is considering allowing the military to respond in kind if engaged."
"This is stupid," Remo complained. "World War III is busting out all over, and you want me to sit on the sidelines?"
In glum frustration he pulled open the blinds behind a paint-spattered ladder to find that he was looking out over the vast army of camels and Arabs. The activity level outside had increased dramatically. Robed men were beginning to mount the skittish animals.
On the phone Smith was talking rapidly. "Until a course of action can be determined, that is precisely what I want you to do," he replied. "In his first communication with the President, the sultan of Ebla threatened America's cultural capital. I believe he has set up some kind of scheme to attack Hollywood and that Assola al Khobar is involved somehow."
The light of realization flashed on. Looking out the window, Remo blinked dumbly.
"Uh-oh," he said. His voice was small.
"What is it?" Smith asked, instantly concerned.
"Um, you might not believe this, Smitty," Remo said worriedly, "but I think I might be looking at Omay's army."
From the window he scanned the lines of camels and men. His thoughts drifted to the tanks he had seen on Taurus's Burbank lot. And it seemed all the other lots in Hollywood and Burbank were hosts to similar activity.
"Explain," Smith demanded sharply.
Remo told him about the camels and military vehicles, as well as the men with them.
"Remo, how could you not see what they were doing?" Smith gasped once he was finished.
"What am I, Kreskin?" Remo said defensively. "This is Hollywood. They said they were making a movie. What the hell else was I supposed to think?" Though the impulse was exceedingly strong, Smith resisted the urge to chastise Remo. It was a supreme effort.
"How could Omay have gotten so much into this country?" Smith mused aloud. There was an angry edge in his voice.
"I think I know," Remo said sheepishly. "There were all sorts of cargo containers down at the harbor. Do you know where L.A. Harbor is, by the way?" he challenged.
"It is in Long Beach," Smith answered crisply.
"Oh," Remo said. "Anyway there were tons of these things being off-loaded from a pair of ships."