"No," Chiun said shortly.
"Oh. Next time you bump into him, could you tell him for me Cheeta has been thinking of him?"
"Perhaps. But I am calling for another reason. It is about a woman whose plight you should know . . . ."
Skip King was in an upscale singles bar in Dover, trying to hit on two blondes at once when a familiar voice came from the big-screen TV.
"You say you were let go by a vice president of Burger Triumph, who was sexually harassing you?"
King grunted. "Hasn't she dropped that kid yet?"
Then to his horror, the crisp voice of Nancy Derringer answered Cheeta Ching's pointed question.
"I wasn't let go. I was shunted aside by a gloryseeking Neanderthal named Skip King. I brought the dinosaur project to him and the minute he got the animal to this country, he pushed me out the door."
"This is about power, isn't it?" Cheeta asked.
"Isn't it always?" Nancy said.
"Dinosaurs and sexual repression,'' Cheeta said in a shrill voice. "Is modern man less evolved than modern woman? For a different perspective, here is science correspondent Frank Feldmeyer."
"Oh God." King said, gaping at the screen. "I'm toast."
"They're waiting for you," the head of security told Skip King when he burst breathless and panting into the lobby of the company headquarters.
"Are they mad?"
"You know the board. It's hard to say."
"Did-did they say anything about me? Anything bad?"
"Not to me. But they're in the boardroom and they've been there a solid hour."
Sweating, Skip King took the elevator to the top floor. "An hour. I've cost the board of directors an hour, and it's after business hours. An hour times six. Oh God! I'm costing the board six hours of their personal time. I'm burnt toast."
The board of directors looked up in unison when Skip King pushed open the glass doors. The CEO was seated at the far end, in a leather chair that had a tall, thronelike back. His cigar smoked in his fattish fist.
Along the sides, the others sat in similar oversized chairs.
"I came as soon as I heard," King croaked, reaching for the chair at his end of the long conference table.
The CEO gestured with his cigar.
"Don't bother. You won't be staying."
King gulped. "You-you're not-firing-me?"
"We think you should take some reflection time, King. Let things sort themselves out."
"But I can't. I'm ramrodding the Bronto project."
"We have that covered."
"Covered? What are you going to do when the press starts pounding on the doors for interviews? That Derringer dame just told Cheeta Ching we've got a fullgrown Brontosaurus Rex in our basement. And I'm the guy who captured it. The media will be howling for my story."
"Right now," came a cool voice from the highbacked seat directly in front of him, "the media is howling for your head."
Eyes wide, Skip King peered over the chair. Looking back at him were Nancy Derringer's upside down blue eyes. They were not friendly.
"Dr. Derringer has agreed to come back on board during the transition," explained the CEO.
"I thought it was the least I could do," said Nancy dryly.
"Look, I won't stand for this. I won't be cheated of my moment of glory."
"Skip," a senior VP said. "You wouldn't buck the board, now would you?"
"I-I might. Anything is possible when the corporate ladder breaks under your feet. I might even write a tell-all book. You never know with a corporate comer spurned."
The board regarded him with unblinking, unreadable eyes.
The CEO gestured to the door with his cigar. "Give us a moment, would you King? We need to confer."
King paced the rug outside the boardroom for twenty minutes. His jacket grew heavy with perspiration.
"This isn't happening," he muttered. "This isn't happening. I'm Skip King. I'm headed for the top."
When he was called back in, he found the board sitting placidly. Nancy looked unhappy. That was a good sign. He forced himself to breathe normally.
"We've decided you can stay with the project," the CEO said bluntly.
"Great. You won't regret-"
"Under Dr. Derringer."
King scowled. "A woman. I can't work under a woman."
"I suggest we take Mr. King at his word," Nancy said coolly.
"On second thought," King said hastily, "I can give it a shot. Why not? I'm a people person."
"Excellent. Take a seat, Dr. Derringer is making recommendations."
King sat. He folded his hands on the table until he realized how it looked. Then he hid them under the table so no one could see them tremble.
Nancy cleared her throat and said, "I have just examined the animal. It is clearly depressed."