"And the crew," Remo corrected.
"Yes, of course, the crew."
"Loose lips sink ships. Could be somebody talked."
"That is unlikely," Smith said testily. "This particular cargo would not attract pirates."
"Who said anything about pirates? And just what was the cargo?"
"Unsalvageable," said Smith. "We must start over. Stand by. I must speak with Master Chiun."
"But you don't know where-"
Hanging up, Smith dialed Master Chiun's Massachusetts number.
The Master of Sinanju picked up the phone immediately.
"What news?" he squeaked.
"There has been an accident."
"If Remo has failed me, I will have his ears!" Chiun screamed.
"It is not Remo's fault. He reached the rendezvous zone only to find the Ingo Pungo had gone to the bottom. He believes it was torpedoed."
"What lunatic would torpedo such a worthy vessel as the Ingo Pungo?"
"That is what I am wondering. Who knew of the vessel's mission?"
"You. I. But not Remo."
"This is not random," Smith said firmly.
"And the consequences of this act of piracy will not be random, either," Chiun said in a thin voice. "I will have satisfaction."
"I will make new arrangements, Master Chiun."
"That goes without saying. The satisfaction I seek is in the form of heads. Many heads. Staring sightlessly at eternity."
"This matter bears looking into, I agree. But we must not call attention to ourselves."
"I will leave the details to you, O Emperor. Just so long as I have my cargo and my heads."
Smith depressed the switch hook, shifted the receiver to his other ear and keyed a few strokes on the capacity keyboard on his desktop.
Instantly the line began ringing. Remo's unhappy voice came on.
"How'd you get back to me? I'm at a pay phone."
"It is a simple computer program."
"But this pay phone doesn't accept incoming calls."
"Override program."
"If AT ds out about this, you're looking at hard time in Leavenworth," Remo muttered.
"Master Chiun is very unhappy with the way this has turned out."
"I'll bet. You told him it wasn't my fault?"
"Of course," said Smith.
"Good. So, what was lost?"
"That is no longer important. I am making other arrangements. But in the meantime I need answers to the Ingo Pungo's fate."
"It sunk. What more do you need to know?"
"Who sunk it and why," said Smith crisply.
"Beats me."
"Take the boat out again. See what you can find."
"It's a big ocean."
"And the longer you delay, the farther away the attacking vessel will get."
"Okay, but only if you put in a good word with Chiun for me. I don't want any of the blame for this. I made the drop point on time. More or less."
"Of course," said Smith, hanging up.
He returned to his screen. The blinking green light that was the Ingo Pungo continued relaying its position to orbiting navigation satellites. Before long the batteries would go dead or seawater would get into the electronics and the signal would die.
In the meanwhile it was like a ghost calling out to the world of the living from its watery grave.
Chapter 5
Anwar Anwar-Sadat was enjoying his insomnia.
As Secretary-General of the United Nations, Anwar Anwar-Sadat had been experiencing more than his share of sleepless nights of late. Things were not going well for his grand scheme to subsume sovereign nations under UN control. It was very distressing. He had expected backlashes. All manner of backlashes. This was why he had tread so very carefully in the early phases.
Not many months ago his office polar-projection map of the globe was checkerboarded in blue. Blue for UN blue. Blue for nations enjoying UN oversight and occupations. It was the golden age for United Nations influence upon the nations of the world. Or a blue age.
Anwar-Sadat much preferred to think of it as a blue age.