Then he walked downstairs with Chiun and called two cabs. As he helped Chiun into the first cab, he told him: "Remember, Chiun, give these to no one but Smith. I'll contact you at Folcroft soon."
"At my age, am I now to be lectured on caution?" Chiun asked.
Remo ignored him and leaned into the front of the cab. "The trip's to Rye, New York. Folcroft Sanatorium." Remo remembered Smith's habits and pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. He tossed a twenty to the driver. "Here's your tip in advance. Now don't go talking to the old fellow. Don't get him sore. And drive carefully or you'll never hear the end of it."
"Gotcha, Mister," the cabbie said, pocketing the twenty and lurching away from the curb in a screech of tires.
Remo got into the second cab. "Kennedy Airport" he said.
On the long rocky ride through afternoon traffic, Remo tried very hard not to think. He tried not to think of how he had breathed easier when he saw that Smith had not been compromised. Remo tried hard not to think on the plane to Washington. He tried not to think about the compromised men who could be transferred, put into jobs where they would not have a real chance ever again to expose America by their weakness. And in the cab from the Washington airport, he tried not to think of the last piece in the puzzle. The possibility that Lithia's list had not been complete; that there was one more man and that man could not be transferred if he had been compromised. He tried not to think of what could happen if that man mentioned CURE's existence, or if that man folded when the chips were down.
He was still trying hard not to think about it when the cab driver interrupted him.
"Here you are, Mac. Sixteen hundred Pennsylvania Avenue." The cabbie looked out the window at the large white building behind the metal fence. "That guy's got a helluva job in there. I hope he knows what he's doing."
"He'd better hope, too," Remo said, giving the driver a twenty and stepping out onto the curb without waiting for change. Washington smelled fresh in the early evening and the White House looked imposing. Remo noticed the guards at the front gate and smiled.
Smith met Chiun's cab personally when it rolled up to the locked gates of Folcroft He helped Chiun from the taxi. Chiun clutched the manila envelope of papers to his chest. "How much?" Smith asked the cabbie.
"Nineteen seventy-five," the driver said. Smith extracted a twenty from his wallet, rubbed it between his fingers to make sure two had not stuck together, and passed it through the window. "Keep the change," he said. He turned to Chiun as soon as the cab had lurched away. "Where is Remo?"
"He said he had other business, and he would see you or he wouldn't," Chiun said.
Smith walked inside with Chiun, who left him outside the main building to take his evening stroll. Smith took the manila envelope and went back to his office in the rear of the building, overlooking the sound.
He pursed his lips as he read the names and notes that Remo had taken from Dr. Forrester. It was a cross-section of the American government, so it would be necessary to deal with each one individually. Smith spent several hours studying the names, and working out a complex, detailed program for bringing all the men out of their post-hypnotic state. It would be delicate. He would need the assistance of the President.
Smith's hand reached toward the telephone when it rang sharply. He lifted the receiver to his ear.
"Smith."
The familiar voice crackled into the phone sharply. "I thought you told me this afternoon everything was all right again."
"I did."
"Well, they've penetrated. They've gotten past my security. They're right here in the White House."
Smith leaned forward in his chair. "Just a moment, Mr.President. Please tell me precisely what happened."
"I was walking down the hallway outside my bedroom. And then this evil looking man jumped out from behind a curtain and stepped in my way."
"What did he do, sir?"
"He didn't do anything. He just stood there."
"Did he say anything?" Smith asked.
"Yes, he did. Some kind of nonsense. Super-fragile or something."
"What did you do?" Smith asked.
"I told him, look, fella, you better get out of here or I'll call the Secret Service. And he left."
"Then what did you do?"
"I called the Secret Service, of course. But they couldn't find him. He was gone. Doctor, do you think you should assign that person here until this entire business of selling our government is concluded?"
"It is concluded," Smith said stiffly, "as I advised you this afternoon. And that person has been there."
"You mean…?"
"Yes."
"What was he doing?"
"He was guaranteeing our nation's freedom, Mr. President. I will be in Washington tomorrow and I will explain it to you fully."
"I wish somebody would," the President said, then added: "So that was him, eh? He didn't look so tough."