In a big way.
When Remo and Chiun arrived at the plant, they presented themselves to the same receptionist Remo had dealt with earlier.
"Sweetheart, my father and I are going inside to conduct some business," Remo told her.
"Your… father?" she asked, staring at Chiun.
"Well, actually he's adopted," Remo said.
"He's adopted?"
"Yeah, you know. Send sixty-nine cents to support a child in an underprivileged country. Be a father and all that? Well, I chose to support an underprivileged adult and be a son. He came in the mail yesterday."
"In the mail?"
"Yeah. He would have been here sooner, but they sent him bulk rate."
"Oh—"
"Listen," Remo said, leaning across the desk and touching the girl behind the neck. She leaned into his touch with her eyes closed. "Would you do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Why don't you take a coffee break. Go out, get yourself a cup of coffee and a doughnut—"
"I'm on a diet."
Damn nobody stuck to a diet like a skinny woman, he thought.
"Have two cups of coffee, then," he said, "Black with no sugar. Drink them slowly, then find a pay phone and call the police. Tell them there's trouble at the plant and to come right away. And then you can take the rest of the day off and go home. Understand?"
"Yes," she said. "Whatever you say, but please…"
"What?"
She opened her eyes and said, "Would you come home with me?"
He smiled, removed his hand, and said, "Maybe later."
She sighed, collected her purse and jacket, waved at him, and left.
"Your father!" Chiun said in disgust.
"I was working on her resistance," Remo argued. "You know, lowering her defenses by making her feel sentimental."
"Wasting time," Chiun said.
"Come on, Chiun," Remo said. "You got your child killer. Lighten up."
"You are a constant source of embarrassment to me."
"You old sweet-talker, you. Come on, this way."
Remo led Chiun through the plant to the assembly line, where he was sure that the drug packing was well under way. As they reached that section, they opened the door a crack and peered in.
Remo saw Jack Boffa, still holding his clipboard, coordinating the operation, and saw that he had imported some of the kids to help out. He hoped Chiun wouldn't start in again, but that hope came too late.
"It continues," Chiun said when he saw what was going on.
"Chiun—"
"We must finish it."
"We will," Remo said. "That's what we're here for."
As they watched, a few cars came off the assembly line and were driven through a large garage-type door. Remo figured that the cars were being loaded onto one of those massive car-carrier trucks, to be transported to the three cities involved.
"Might as well get it done, Chiun," he said. He pushed the door open wide and walked in, with Chiun on his heels.
"Keep it moving there, boys," Jack Boffa was shouting. "We're almost through."
"Wrong, Boffa!" Remo shouted.
"Wha—" Boffa said, turning to face Remo. "Oh, you. Who's this, your houseboy?"
"Your operation is shut down, Boffa."
"What are you talking about?" the foreman demanded, trying to bluff it out. Remo was sure that the man did not have a gun on him, but he was aware that Louis Sterling had been killed with a knife.
"I mean the whole party is over. Your 'big boss' is in the hands of the police, and they're on their way here."
"I don't know what—"
"Hey, Mr. Boffa," a kid shouted. "A bag of shit opened. What should we—"
"Shut up!" Boffa shouted.
"You've got to learn to give up, Boffa," Remo advised him. "This is the end."
"No it ain't, dammit—" Boffa said, and out came the blade from behind the clipboard.
"Nasty," Remo said.
As Boffa slashed at him with the knife, Remo put out his bare hand. The blade collided with his flesh and snapped in two. The little demonstration shocked Boffa into silence.
"Bad steel," Remo said.