"In other words, he said nothing specific except to insult your nationality?"
Yakamoto was thinking much more clearly now. His brow furrowed deeply. "I suppose not. No, he did not."
"You became panicked for nothing," the man on the phone said. "This Korean merely saw a Japanese and automatically became envious. It is not uncommon. After all, Koreans spring from a pool of envy. It is in their nature, for they all wish they were Japanese. Who can blame them?"
Yakamoto was feeling much better. He wiped some sweat from his face with the cuff of his white lab coat. "Do you really think so?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course. From what you say, he did not accuse you of anything specific, nor did he speak to your supervisor. He did not even threaten to do so or to go to the Mayanan government. You misinterpreted this Korean. That is easy enough to do. Their mouths form words funny."
Dr. Yakamoto didn't mention that the old Korean spoke flawless Japanese. He was just relieved that the man on the phone was not yelling at him for wasting his time.
"I am sorry to have panicked," Yakamoto apologized.
"Never mind," the deep voice said. "This is not your field. As long as you have called, have you spoken with Dr. Taki yet? We have gotten him in as consultant to the prime minister. It was the best way to get him into Mayana without arousing suspicion. He should be in New Briton by now."
"No," Yakamoto admitted. "He must have just arrived. He was in the group that just came up from the airport. The same group with the old Korean."
A sharp intake of angry air. "What do you mean, the group that just came from the airport? Your confrontation with this Korean, when did all this happen?"
Yakamoto felt the fear rising again. Different now than the fear of discovery. It was fear of a man who held the power to hire and fire.
"Less than five minutes ago," he admitted guiltily.
The low voice rumbled deeper. "You are not calling from a secure location?" the man demanded. This was one of the most important security details that had been drilled into Toshimi Yakamoto. He was to find call-in sites where he was least likely to be monitored. Public places were not perfect but were preferable. Parks and the rest rooms of restaurants and bars were good. Not his car and not his apartment, since they could be bugged. And the one place over all others where he was never, ever to call from was the Vaporizer site itself.
"I am... that is- The Korean frightened me."
"Tell me, Toshimi Yakamoto, that you are not at the site of the Wayanan device," the deep voice said.
"There is no one else around," Yakamoto blurted. "The parking lot is empty. And the people who saw me run down here did not know why I was running." There came a few seconds of angry snorting on the other end of the line, like a bull getting ready to charge. When the voice spoke once more, it was a growl of barely controlled fury.
"Get back to work," the man snarled. "If anyone asks, tell them you were running because you thought you left the lights on in your car. Have your scheduled meeting with Dr. Taki in the city. You said you required help. He will help you. And when you call to report this evening, Toshimi Yakamoto, you had better do so from a secure location. If not, I will personally wring your idiot neck."
The phone went dead in Yakamoto's hand. Clicking it shut, he slipped it back into his pocket. He had never heard his employer so angry. Far more frightening than his trademark outbursts of temper was this quiet, controlled rage.
Yakamoto had made a mistake. It was not his fault, since this was not his field of expertise, but that obviously didn't matter. It was clear that this incident would not be forgotten. One more misstep like this one and he would be out of a job. His only hope now was to impress the higher-ups by completing this mission successfully.
It was humid in the car. Yakamoto mopped the sweat from his glistening face with the tails of his lab coat before opening the door.
He thought he had left the lights on. A plausible excuse. He came in early enough in the morning that he might have had them on. People would believe that.
He climbed out of the car, careful to lock it up tight.
Yes, the lights. They hadn't been on, of course, he would say. But he was afraid he might have left them on.
"I left my lights on, I left my lights on, I left my lights on...." He repeated it many times just to be sure.
The perfect excuse.
Straightening his shoulders, the little scientist pressed his black hair back carefully with both hands. With a deep breath, he marched back up to the Vaporizer site.
Above, the parking lot security camera recorded his every move. And, unknown to Toshimi Yakamoto, in the coil of a spring under the front passenger seat of his Toyota, a hidden listening device had picked up his every word.
"I LIGHTS my left on," Toshimi Yakamoto announced with great confidence to the roomful of men.
No one paid the Japanese scientist any attention when he marched into the control booth. The tour group-which included the old Korean and his young associate-was at the window. Below them was the Vaporizer. Deputy Minister Jiminez was nowhere to be seen.
"I mean, I left my left on. My lights. On. But lights were not on, were off. But I was afraid lights were on."
The Japanese scientist's babbling finally drew someone's attention.
"Oh, Toshimi, you're here," Mike Sears said. "Can you give me a hand setting up this test?"
"I did not leave lights on in car," Yakamoto promised.
Mike Sears was no longer paying attention. He was fussing at a computer keyboard.
Yakamoto felt a wash of great relief. It was clear he had barely been missed. His employer-his true employer-had been correct. And Dr. Taki was not looking his way. He was staring out the window, back rigid.
Things were fine. He had panicked for nothing. Careful to keep out of the way of the envious old Korean who wished he was Japanese, Toshimi Yakamoto hurried over to assist Mike Sears.
At the window, Remo glanced back at Yakamoto. The Japanese scientist's confrontation with Chiun was already forgotten. Yakamoto was engrossed in his work.
"I'm surprised he came back," Remo commented to Chiun in Korean. "The way you spooked him out, I figured he'd be dog-paddling back to Tokyo."
"Doubtless he remembered there were more rolls of toilet paper to steal from the lavatory," Chiun droned. He didn't turn to watch Yakamoto working. The old man's button nose was pressed against the window.
Two trucks piled high with teetering stacks of garbage had been lined up on ramps at the edge of the Vaporizer pit.
"Probably just an industrial spy," Remo said. "The Japanese'll steal the design of this thing and start cranking them out like toasters. Still, whatever you said to him, it probably wasn't very nice. You know, Little Father, it wouldn't hurt to tone down the racist stuff."
"Bah," Chiun grunted. "I am not racist. The aberration of you as Reigning Master notwithstanding, true Masters of Sinanju have always been Korean for a reason. The only good race is Korean. In fact, to accuse me of racism is to slander the most perfect specimen of Koreanness. Me. I refuse to speak to one who is so racist."
Eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits, he stared out the window.
Mike Sears talked the group through the process. It was exactly as Remo had seen it on television. The nozzle tips buried in the black walls of the deep pit glowed a brilliant white. The trucks tipped their loads into the pit, and the trash winked out of existence in star flashes, piece by piece.
Remo tried to track some individual pieces of garbage. In the microsecond before they disappeared, they seemed to elongate. No human eye save those of the two Masters of Sinanju could have seen it. The trash stretched, then seemed to explode in bursts of brilliant white.
With flashbulb pops that were blinding in their speed, the two loads of trash vanished, absorbed back into the ether as scattering molecules.
"So much for Smith's doubts," Remo said.
He glanced at his teacher. Chiun had been looking for a trick. Anything that might have gone unnoticed by the rest of the world. But, like Remo, he saw none.
Bearing witness to such new, powerful technology, the former Reigning Master of Sinanju's face became a mask of stony silence.