"He'll do it after he gets bomb experts there," Remo told Chiun after passing along the message.
"How he does it is of no concern to me," said Chiun. "I do not bother myself with details."
The next morning, Smith called to announce that the plan had worked. The room had exploded, but that section of the hospital had been evacuated and with heavy explosion-resistant mesh and padding,
Smith's experts had been able to contain the blast with little damage and no injuries.
"Thank Chiun for me," said Smith.
Remo looked at the back of Chiun, who was watching his daytime soap operas. "As soon as I get a chance," he said.
Later that day, he told Chiun of Smith's success.
"Of course," said Chiun.
"How did you know it was mined to explode by our weights?" asked Remo.
"I asked myself how you would set such a boom boom. I answered myself, Remo would do it with weights. What other way, then, would another uncreative creature do it?"
"That's your final word on the subject?" asked Remo.
"That word is sufficient," said Chiun.
"Go scratch," said Remo.
When they left Hollywood the next day, Remo managed to drive his car into a long line of limousines cruising slowly along with their headlights turned on in broad daylight.
He pulled out of the line, up alongside a car, and called to the driver: "What's going on?"
"Wanda Reidel's funeral," the man called back.
Remo nodded. In the rearview mirror, he saw the limousines stretched out behind him for almost a mile.
"Big crowd," he called to the driver.
"Sure is," the driver called back.
"Just proves what they always say," said Remo.
"What's that?"
"Give the people something they want to see and they'll come."