"Where is Dr. Ravits' lab?" Remo asked Dara.
"It's the one you and your father will be in," said Dara. "You have to pass through extra doors to get to it. The FBI wouldn't even let the doctor leave the lab, so I guess you two won't be able to either."
"The FBI kept him a prisoner?" Remo said.
"You don't know Dr. Ravits," said Dara, cutting off the conversation with a cold smile.
But Remo did know Dr. Ravits. He knew when he was born, when and where he went to school, and how he became an entomologist. He also knew the successes and failures of his career.
Smith had told Remo everything when he came to the oceanfront cottage to give him and Chiun their new assignment. As Smith had explained:
There was a beetle that traditionally had fed on the crops of three tribes in central Africa. The beetle lived in cycles as it had for tens of thousands of years, reproducing rapidly and destroying the crops. When the crops dwindled too much, some chemical reaction would take place in the beetle, telling it to decrease because there was not enough food to support its numbers. Relieved of the pressure from the beetles, the crops rebounded and increased and for a few years the tribes fed well. But then the beetles received the signal to multiply, as if they had sensed the greater amount of food available, and the plague would again hit.
Man and insect had lived like this for thousands of years. Then, suddenly, the beetles did not decrease as they should. The IHAEO began to study the creature. If they could find the chemical signals that made it stop reproducing, they could stop the new plague, and keep the beetle population in check forever.
But then came the horror, Smith had told Remo and Chiun. The real nightmare. For every change the IHAEO scientists made in the Ung beetle, the insect made a counterchange: It became a biological chess game with move and countermove, and the most horrifying thing was that the insects' moves came quickly, within three generations, which was only a matter of months. It was an adaptability to man's attacks that man had never seen before in an insect.
Smith had said, "The one saving grace about this disaster is that the Ung beetle is confined to Central Africa. But given its resistant quality, and its speed of adaptability to other insects, mankind all over the world could literally be deprived of crops. That means we could all starve to death. The tragedy of Central Africa would be the world's tragedy. So now you know why the work of the IHAEO is so important."
"I still don't know what you want me for," Remo had said. "Get a bug doctor."
"Entomologist," Smith said. "We have them. And we are losing them."
"Who'd want to kill a bug doctor?" Remo asked.
"Entomologist," Smith said.
"Right. That."
"We don't know. But someone is. Despite protection around the world, someone is getting to the scientists. It's as if mankind has only one life raft and some lunatics are trying to punch holes in it."
Despite the odds, Smith had explained, mankind might still win. A Dr. Ravits had developed a biochemical substance called a pheromone. It attracted the beetles to each other, but its side effects overcame the beetles' adaptability and made their own defenses work against them.
Chiun, who had been staring angrily at the body behind the computer, entered the conversation. In Korean, he told Remo: "Do not ask Emperor Smith what he is talking about lest he explain it."
In English, Chiun said to Smith: "How fascinating, O wise emperor."
"I won't go into what a polypusside is," said Smith.
"As you will, O gracious emperor," Chiun said.
"What we want is for you to get into the lab and whenever they strike again, go after him. So far, they've gotten through every government's defense system and we still don't know who they are. This Dr. Ravits says the pheromone is about ready to go. It has to be protected."
"They were attacked today," Remo said, "but the lab people escaped, right?"
"Yes," Smith said. "The FBI has been able to protect them so far. This might strike you as strange, but that's precisely because the defense has been successful so far in America that we feel now is the time to change it."
Chiun almost blinked in surprise. In Korean he let out, "They are finally thinking."
"Yes," said Remo. He understood. There had never been a wall that was successful over a long period of time. Even the brilliantly designed tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs had, over the centuries, given up their treasures to robbers. The world always changed and he who sought to survive had to change also, before it was too late. It was why Chiun had tried to buy a computer.
"It's a good idea, Smitty," Remo told Smith. "You relax now and leave it to us." He tried to smile. "It's taken too long for me to break you in. I don't want to work with anyone else."
"I'm afraid someday you will have to. I'm getting too old and you don't seem to be," Smith said.
"Oh no, gracious emperor," Chiun said. "You are like the flower that blooms more beautifully as the days go on."
"You are most kind, Master of Sinanju," said Smith.
And in Korean, Chiun muttered when Smith left: "See, Remo, what happens when you eat the wrong meat. See? Leaving now on those shuffling feet is a hamburger eater."
"I guess so," said Remo unenthusiastically. But he felt for Smith; he felt for someone who cared about the things Remo still cared about. The world was worth saving, especially the part of it Remo loved: the United States.
"I guess," Remo repeated sadly. He was going to do this assignment for Smith because it might just be the old man's last, and so he and Chiun went on ahead to the IHAEO labs and met Dara Worthington.
Now they followed her into Dr. Ravits' laboratory. Ravits was looking at a computer printout as he chewed great mouthfuls of chocolate cake and drank a glass of sugared soda with caffeine additives. His face looked like a World War I battlefield with craters left by triumphant acne.
His hands shook and his white lab coat was dirty. Dr. Ravits apparently did not believe strongly in changing clothes or bathing.
In the hallway, Dara Worthington had warned Remo and Chiun that Ravits simply lost contact with anything that wasn't connected with his work. He was not basically a slob, just a person engaged in work so consuming that he didn't have time for the rest of the world. He tended to eat cake and soda because he never quite remembered to eat a meal. Once, when they had been in Russia, Dara had brought him a warm meal on a platter and forced him to eat.
"Have some salad," she had said.
"Will you marry me?" Ravits had said.
"I only said have some salad."
"You are the most meaningful relationship I've had in my life."
"I'm the only one and all I did was tell you to eat."
"Then you won't marry me?" he said.
"No," said Dara.
"Then would you empty the wastebaskets, please," Dr. Ravits had said. "They're getting full."
Ravits looked up from the printout as she brought Remo and Chiun into the lab.
"These two entomologists are here to assist you, Dr. Ravits," she said. She seemed to thrust forward, stretching her bosom against her prim white blouse. The laboratory smelled as though it had housed an electrical fire for the last month. Remo realized it was Ravits.
"Good," said Ravits. He nodded at Remo and Chiun. "I think you two ought to know we have lost several people from this lab to terrorists, yes?"
"We know," said Remo.
"I'll leave you three together," said Dara, bowing out. "Dr. Ravits, you ought to get along very well with Dr. Chiun. I found him most pleasant."