And the key to avoiding death was distance.
Chiun continued to stalk the halls of Three-G, Incorporated, a grim specter in search of poisons he knew he would never find.
Chapter 12
Mary Melissa Mercy displayed her white gloves in response to Remo's question.
"Poison ivy," she said, smiling. "I caught a frightful dose during weeding duty." She noticed Remo looking around, his attitude bored and impatient.
"Are you a true Vegan, by chance?" she asked suddenly.
"Got me," Remo admitted. "I don't even know what a false Vegan is."
"False Vegans come in many disguises," Mary Melissa Mercy said primly. "The lactovo-vegetarian thinks dairy products are proper. But the lacto-vegetarian refuses eggs, but will consume milk products. Then there is the debased vegetarian, who allows so-called white meats to desecrate his holy stomach, but not red."
"No, I am not a vegetarian," Remo cut in. "Not by your definition of the word, anyway."
"How strange," she said, her brow knitting. "I haven't eaten meat in years, and I have developed the ability to smell a non-vegetarian. You don't have that odor about you."
"I'll bet that comes in handy around the salad bar," said Remo wryly, who thought he detected the scent of blood on Mary Melissa Mercy's breath.
Mary Melisa Mercy smiled sweetly. "Shop talk," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm sorry."
"I met some of your people down the road," Remo said. "They seem very . . . dedicated."
Her smile broadened. "You mean 'fixated,'" she said. "That's understandable. To an outsider, we would seem a little strange." A skeptical look crossed Remo's face, and she laughed out loud. "All right, we seem like a pack of loons. But it's just the way we live. We've chosen the strict Vegan lifestyle in this community, and it suits us. It also doesn't hurt the image of our products. We live healthy, so you eat healthy. Instruction by way of example."
"This place is a commune?" Remo asked, surprised.
Mary Melissa winced. "Such an old-fashioned term. We do have sleeping facilities on the premises for those who wish to stay here, but most of our staff have families just like everyone else. They punch out and go home at five."
They were strolling along one of the many glass-lined hallways of the Three-G, Inc. complex. The place was a labyrinth of spotlessly clean windows. It looked modern enough to have a jump on the twenty-first century.
Remo sensed a living creature cringing in a corner. He turned, and stooped to pick it up.
"Yours?" he asked, stroking the back of an emaciated tiger-striped cat.
He held the creature out to her, but suddenly it began to spit. Fangs bared, it began to claw the air in front of Mary Melissa Mercy. She retreated, her hands going to her mirror sunglasses.
"I withdraw the question," Remo said.
"Sometimes I have that effect on animals," Mary said by way of explanation. Remo raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it belongs to one of the workers," she added quickly. "She's feeding it a strict no-meat diet."
"That explains the mange," Remo said, turning the animal loose. It scurried down the hallway, nearly tripping an approaching figure just rounding the corner.
Remo saw the new arrival's legs were smooth and flawless, escaping upward into an agonizingly short skirt. Her body was rounded and curved to beautiful perfection, her neck slender and long.
Her face, on the other hand, looked like she had spent the past twenty years pounding it on a flat rock.
"Ms. McGlone," Mary Melissa said, acknowledging the other woman, who thrust out a thick slab of computer printouts.
"Here are the storyboards the ad people came up with for us." The woman's voice was a bray, and her teeth jutted from her mouth at bizarre angles, Remo noticed.
"We're gearing up production on our new Bran-licious Chunk Bar," Mary Melissa explained to Remo. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, how rude of me. Elvira McGlone, Remo . . ."
"MacLeavy," Remo said.
"Elvira is in charge of marketing."
As they exchanged indifferent nods, Remo noticed McGlone's ten pointed fingernails. They had been painted a deep red, like broad hypodermic needles charged with blood.
She didn't give Remo a second glance. "I have everything set up for you in my office."
"Fine," said Mary Melissa, curtly. "We'll discuss it when I have a free minute."
"But I'm ready for you now. The ad people are anxious to get this campaign started."
"Later," said Mary Melissa Mercy. There was just a hint of steel in her voice.
Remo was surprised that a battle-ax like Elvira McGlone could be cowed so easily. But she lowered her head like a scolded child and stopped her arguing in mid-whine. She flung a halfhearted "pleased to meet you" at Remo before skulking down the hall.
After she had gone, Mary Melissa Mercy turned to Remo. "Elvira wants to make an enormous splash in the media. It's something Three-G has never done before," she whispered. "I think she expects the Bran-licious Chunk Bar to push us from the health stores into the mainstream. I can't really blame her. It is the creation of Mr. Gideon himself."
"He the owner?" Remo asked.
"Was the owner," Mary Melissa said, her voice sad. "He passed away recently."
"Too bad," Remo said. He had begun peering past her through the inner windows, where flies buzzed amid a profusion of greenery. Remo caught a flash of silver and blue. Chiun. Looking for poison in the garden. This could take all day.
"Three-G has been taken over by a simply delightful old gentleman with wonderful Old World ideas," Mary Melissa was saying. "I'd love for you to meet him."
"Some other time," Remo said. He was debating whether or not to tap on the glass. They had to get out of here and back on the trail.
"Please?"
"Sorry."
"But he's just like your friend."
"All the more reason to avoid him."
"Here," said Mary Melissa helpfully, "if you're looking for your friend, I can call downstairs and have him paged for you. My office is just around the corner."
Remo turned away from the window and shrugged. "Lead the way."
Mary Melissa Mercy's office was large and richly furnished. One entire wall was a window that opened to the lush garden beyond.