"Yes," Smith said flatly. "Although his evolution into a peacemaker began some fifteen years ago, the circumstances of his conversion have always left me with lingering doubts as to his sincerity."
"Trust you to still be suspicious after a decade and a half," Remo said dryly. His eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute," he added, "the picture just changed."
There was a younger man on the screen now. He was a tall, twitchy-looking figure in a long, scraggly beard and mustache. He was walking alone down a busy street.
"That is Assola al Khobar," Smith supplied, tart voice stretched tight. The obvious note of contempt in the usually dispassionate tone of the CURE director surprised Remo.
"Assola?" Remo asked, scrunching up his face. "Why does that sound familiar?"
"He was mentioned extensively on the news last summer," Smith explained. "He is the son of a Saudi billionaire. Al Khobar has used his own millions to finance a campaign of terror against the United States."
"That's right," Remo said. "The embassy bombings."
It had made international news the previous August. Simultaneous explosions at the U.S. embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam had killed hundreds and injured thousands more.
"Al Khobar was linked to the explosions in East Africa," Smith said somberly. "But those were not isolated incidents. There was a bombing at a National Guard training center in Riyadh the previous November. He also supplied the cash for the World Trade Center bombing in 1993."
"Wait, are you saying he backed the Messengers of Muhammad?"
Almost three years previous CURE had encountered a group of Muslim fundamentalists whose well-financed campaign had wrought havoc on the U.S. postal system. The final blow dealt by these messengers of death was to be a radiological bomb called the Fist of Allah. Fortunately Remo and Chiun had been able to cripple its delivery system before the device was able to reach its ultimate target-New York City.
"It appears as if the Deaf Mullah had a supply line of funds unknown to us at that time," Smith said tautly. "Al Khobar can also be linked to the 1983 Marine barracks attack in Beirut. He is partnered with Hezbollah, which has a history of terror against the United States and its allies."
"What about Global Movieland?"
After the East Africa bombings the United States had fired missiles against two suspected terrorist training camps. The attack against the South African franchise of the American-based restaurant chain had followed in the wake of these retaliatory strikes.
"Al Khobar claims direct credit for that bombing, as well," Smith replied. "His activities around the world are run through Islamic charities. As a result of his generous contributions to like-minded individuals, he had set up a network that shielded him from detection. Immediately after the African bombings he went underground in Afghanistan."
"Too bad it wasn't six feet under," Remo muttered.
"Yes," Smith agreed simply. "I attempted for a time to use CURE's facilities to locate him, but he proved impossible to find. Then we were distracted by our own business of the past year. Al Khobar became a back-burner issue."
"I'm glad the heat's back on. I assume by this tape you found the creep," Remo said hopefully. On the TV, Assola al Khobar continued to walk down the long street. The high white wall past which he strolled appeared to be too well maintained for the Middle East. Remo didn't even see a single bullet hole in the facade. The blurry cars that whizzed by looked too new and too big for it to be the Middle East. However the sun that beat down upon the terrorist was hot. Almost like a desert.
"A retired CIA operative took this footage of al Khobar three days ago," Smith explained. "He believes he has sent it to his former agency."
The wall finally broke open at a wide gate. Assola al Khobar turned up the sidewalk, passing alongside a small guard shack. He vanished inside the walls. The last image before the tape turned to staticky fuzz was of a cluster of stars on the front of the guard booth.
"That symbol looked familiar," Remo said, puzzled. He switched off the television.
Smith knew immediately what he was referring to.
"It is the constellation Taurus," the CURE director explained. "It is the constellation that appears northwest of Orion at the beginning of the year."
"No," Remo frowned. "I've seen that specific symbol before." As he thought, his eyes strayed to the other tape he'd brought in from the kitchen.
"Got it, Smitty," he announced, palming the video he'd picked up on Boston Common.
He went on to tell Smith about the drug dealer at the Liberty Rally and the case of videotapes that appeared to contain multiple copies of a current motion picture.
"There is a great deal of money to be made in video piracy," Smith admitted after Remo was through. "In any event that is beside the point. The symbol is that of Taurus Studios. It is a Hollywood film company that has been floundering for many years."
Remo knew there'd be trouble the moment Smith said the name. Halfway through the word Hollywood, Chiun's ears pricked up. His bald head shot up from his writing, twisting to the phone like a dog on a scent. The twin tufts of gossamer hair above each ear quivered in anticipation.
Remo pressed the receiver firmly against his ear, using suction to block out any further chance of Smith's words reaching the Master of Sinanju.
"Holly Madison." Remo nodded seriously. "Good first lady. Bad cupcakes."
From the corner of his eye he gauged Chiun's reaction. The old man was watching him suspiciously.
"I never really liked them myself," Remo babbled. "Was always sort of partial to Twinkies. Course, all that stuff's like strychnine to me now. You know a single strip of beef jerky'd put me in the hospital for a month?"
As he spoke, he continued to eye the Master of Sinanju. He was grateful when, with agonizing slowness, Chiun lowered his head. Inwardly Remo breathed a sigh of relief.
Smith seemed grateful to simply get a word in edgewise.
"What are you talking about, Remo?" the CURE director asked.
"Don't ask me," Remo said. "You brought it up."
He could almost hear Smith's frown. The CURE director didn't press the issue.
"As I was saying," Smith continued, "Taurus was a failed Hollywood enterprise. Until recently it was thought that it would quietly die out, its film library having already been sold off to the highest bidder. However the studio was purchased by Sultan Omay sin-Khatam a few months ago. There is word now that he has plans to reinvigorate Taurus by making the most expensive film in the history of motion pictures. Although no budget plans have yet been released, he is calling it the greatest epic in the history of film."
Something suddenly clicked in Remo's brain. "Smitty, are you telling me Assola is-" he caught himself, not wanting to alert Chiun "-here?"
"The footage you saw was of Assola al Khobar entering the gates of Sultan Omay sin-Khalam's Taurus Studios."
"So much for old Omay going straight," Remo said.
"That is part of your assignment," Smith told him. "Before removing al Khobar, I would be curious to learn what Sultan Omay's connection is to the terrorist. I have already arranged a flight for you and Chiun."
Remo glanced at the Master of Sinanju.
"Um, it'll be my pleasure to whack this Assholey guy, Smitty, but I think Chiun is going to have to give this one a miss. He's kind of busy right now."
Smith was surprised that Remo would refuse the company. "Very well," the CURE director said. "You should have no trouble handling this alone."
"Piece of cake, Smitty," Remo said confidently. Their conversation done, both men hung up without exchanging goodbyes. When Remo turned away from the phone, he found the Master of Sinanju's hard hazel eyes trained on him.
"There is no such person as Holly Madison," Chiun said, eyes slivers of suspicion.
"Hmm. I wonder whose cupcakes I was eating, then?" Remo mused. "Oh, well, speaking of food, you wanna eat? I'm starving."
Chiun placed his quill delicately across a single sheet of parchment. "We will eat," he said, rising to his feet. "If only to see if you choke out of guilt for lying to the one you call Father."