"She'd be about eleven or twelve by now."
Smith cleared his throat. "Until recently you had been searching for your parents. Then you changed your mind. Why is that?"
"I changed my mind. My past is my past. I'm looking to the future now. Find my daughter."
"What is her name?"
"Freya."
"Spell it, please."
Remo did.
"Last name?" asked Smith.
"Search me. She's probably going by her mother's last name."
"And what is that?"
"I have no clue," Remo admitted sheepishly.
In the corner the Master of Sinanju shook his head sadly. "Whites," he said under his breath. "They have no sense of family."
"You have no idea who the mother of your daughter is?" Smith asked in an incredulous tone.
"Her first name is Jilda."
"Is that spelled with a J?" asked Smith.
"Yeah. I think so."
"It is probably pronounced 'Hilda.'"
"Jilda," said Remo, emphasizing the J, "always pronounced it with a J. "
"You are positive?"
"I think a grown woman would know how to pronounce her own name, don't you?"
Smith cleared his throat. "Please do not take that tone with me."
"Mind your emperor, Remo," Chiun said loudly. "He is only trying to aid you in your most recent futile search for relatives who have more sense than to associate with you."
Remo slapped a hand over the mouthpiece.
"I don't need any help from the peanut gallery," he whispered.
"It is good we never found your father," Chiun continued, louder than before. "No doubt he would have cast you into the same outer darkness as when you were born, O misbegotten one."
"That's enough," Remo hissed. taking his hand off the receiver, Remo said to Smith, "Just find them, okay? They could be anywhere. Maybe in Scandinavia. Jilda is from there. She's called Jilda of Lakluun."
"I will do my best," Smith promised.
And the line went dead.
Hanging up, Remo looked toward the Master of Sinanju. And all the anger drained from him.
"I didn't need you chiming in."
"It was necessary to throw Emperor Smith off the scent."
"Smith couldn't smell a limburger-cheese fart if it was piped into a plastic bag tied around his head. All he knows is what his computers tell him."
"If he ever learns that your father lives, there may be dire consequences."
"Yeah, I know," said Remo, his deep-set eyes flickering. "But it's my daughter I'm worried about."
"The words the spirit of your mother spoke to you trouble you still?"
"Yeah. I can't get them out of my mind. She said my daughter was in some kind of danger. The danger was real but not immediate. But I'm not going to wait for it to grow. I need to make sure she's safe."
Chiun cocked his birdlike head to one side. "And if the child's mother prefers that you do not?"
"I'll deal with that then."
"It is difficult being a parent," Chiun said thinly.
"I've never really been a parent."
"It is difficult for you who were born an orphan to know what to do with your feelings. You who had no brother or sisters or parents now have met the father you never knew. You have a daughter you have seen but once in your life. A son, too."
"I don't know about him."
"That truly was your son. He possessed your face and eyes and uncouth manners."
"Well, he's where Smith can't get at him anymore."
"We will find your daughter, Remo Williams."
"Let's hope so."
Chiun drew near, holding Remo's eyes with his own. "But have you asked the logical question?"
Remo nodded. "What then?"
"Yes. What then? What will you do? She cannot live with you. It would be too dangerous, with the work that we do. We are assassins. We go where our emperor sends us. Some day we may go and never return."