"That's him. That's sure him," Remo said stonily. "They told me he was dead. Not captured. Dead."
"It's possible they were mistaken," Smith admitted. Remo threw the photo down and started pacing again. "Dammit, Smitty. They were wrong! I know they're wrong. That was Dick's signature on the back of that gook. "
Chiun started. His papery lips silently formed the word "gook."
"You are quite certain?"
"He was my best friend," Remo shouted. "Don't you understand? My best friend. I know his signature. He was my best friend and I left him behind!"
Suddenly, without any warning, Remo slumped against the window. He tore down the shade and pressed his face and fists to the dying sunlight coming in through the glass. His eyes were squeezed tight. His shoulders shook.
"He was my best friend and I left him to rot in that stinking place." Remo's voice was twisted, hurt.
The Master of Sinanju caught Smith's eye. "He has not been himself since this afternoon," he whispered. "Why is he acting like this?"
"Let me handle this," Smith said quietly.
"Remo," Smith began, walking over to the window.
"The reconnaissance photo I showed you is of a section of the Vietnam-Cambodian border. It shows evidence of a temporary camp on that site. It is one of several such sites our government has been monitoring as possible POW encampments."
"So?" Remo said bitterly.
"This second photo, if you care to look at it, is of the same site. There is no trace of the camp. This photo was taken three weeks ago. After the approximate time the refugee Phong claimed the camp he was incarcerated in had been moved."
Remo opened his eyes and examined the photo. "It doesn't tell us much, does it?" he said.
"This third one does, however." Smith handed it to Remo. Chiun crowded close, his eyes switching from Remo's face to the photo.
"This site is similar to the first one," Smith continued. "Not exactly, but similar. Notice the ring of huts here. And the latrine trench there. The layout is very similar. "
"You think it's the same camp?"
"But moved to a new location, yes. We've determined that no other suspected site has been moved in the same time frame."
Remo looked up at Smith's face. "Then we know where to look."
"Yes. Unfortunately, this new location is on the other side of the border. In Cambodia."
"They're still fighting there."
"It's winding down, but yes, they're still fighting."
"Then we have to get him out of there."
"Patience, Remo. There's more to this story."
"Yes, Remo, there's more to this story," Chiun said gently. "Listen to your emperor."
"I discussed this matter with the President at great length. He informs me that for several months now our government has been in back-channel communication with Hanoi over normalizing relations. There has been movement in the last two months. Considerable movement. The Vietnamese want us to lift economic sanctions as a prerequisite to restoring diplomatic ties. We in turn are demanding a full accounting of all American servicemen known to be missing in action. The Vietnamese officials involved in the negotiations have been dropping hints that they have more than just the remains of our people, but when we press for details, they back off. "
"They've got some, all right," Remo said grimly. "I know. That gook's back was covered with names. If he hadn't had so many rounds shot through him, we'd have a list of them. Phong was telling the truth about American POW's. He had them sign their names on his back. That was his proof. I told you that over the phone. "
"I expect to receive a full autopsy report and morgue photos later," Smith said. "That will go a long way toward establishing the validity of the signature you saw. "
"He wrote 'Semper Fi' at the bottom," Remo said distantly. "That was so like him. Imagine him remembering to do that after all these years."
"My American slang is not good," Chiun told Smith. "I am not familiar with 'Semper Fi.' "
"Short for 'Semper Fidelis,' " Smith said. "Latin for 'Always Faithful.' It's the motto of the Marine Corps."
"Oh," said Chiun, his face puckering. "Army stuff."
"Okay, Smith," Remo snapped suddenly. "You wait for your autopsy report. But while you're waiting, book a flight for Chiun and me. We're going to Vietnam."
"I'm afraid not, Remo," Smith said quietly.
"If you're going to tell me to sit tight while some tight-assed politician negotiates them out, forget it. Dick's been there too damn long as it is. He's not spending any more time in that camp than it will take me to find him."
"We're close to a breakthrough, Remo. The President feels that the POW's may have been moved to Cambodia for some political purpose. The reasoning is that the Vietnamese can't bring them forward without having to admit they've been holding prisoners this long after the war. It's possible they intend to claim our people were found wandering the jungle during the pacification of Cambodia. If we're correct, they could come out any day now."
"I've heard that light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel speech before. I heard it before I went over there. I heard it after I left. And now you're trying to feed it to me again. Stuff it. This is personal. I'm going in."
"Remo, get a grip on yourself," Chiun said. "You are acting childishly. Vietnam was long ago. It is your past. Your dead past. You cannot go back to it."
"Chiun is right, Remo."
"My gut tells me different," Remo retorted. "I'm going."
"The President and I discussed the possibility of sending you over there. It's out of the question."
"Give me one good reason."
"If we were dealing with a collection of POW's-any POW's-that might be possible, but you've admitted you have a friend among them."
"That's why I'm going."
"No, that is why you must not go."
"Listen to your emperor, Remo," Chiun warned. "He is about to speak wisdom."
"Shut up," Remo snapped. Chiun flinched. To Smith he said, "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're not thinking clearly, Remo, or it would be obvious to you. When we selected you as CURE's sole enforcement arm, it was because you met certain critical criteria. You were an orphan. You had no close friends. Your background in Vietnam and on the Newark police force indicated a predisposition toward our kind of work. Because our organization officially does not exist, you became our agent who no longer existed."
"No sale, Smitty. You picked me because I was a patriot. Well, Dick is a patriot too. He can keep a secret. I'll just explain the way it is and he'll keep his mouth shut."