"The same could be said about you."
Darcy laughed. "Are you referring to my office persona? I thought I performed that role rather well."
Smith cleared his throat. "Er... your computer. It's very good."
"Thank you. I take that as a great compliment. But what you're really getting at is, how did I construct it? You've looked into my background, of course."
"Yes," Smith said. "That's what puzzles me. I know that you grew up here, in this town. In this house. You have no education to speak of. If you don't mind my asking..."
He blushed. It was all very strange. Here he was, held at gunpoint by an obvious menace to everything he held dear, and yet he felt like a schoolboy asking a girl to dance.
She watched him. Her eyes twinkled. "No, I don't mind," she said. "I taught myself. I read everything I could about everything. I sat up till dawn every night for twelve years to learn how to think. When I was twenty-six years old, I went to work for a computer manufacturing company, on the assembly line. That's where I learned how these machines worked. I stole some parts, studied them at home, and brought them back before they were missed. It was a passion with me.... Do you find that impossible to believe about a woman?"
"No," Smith said simply. "Only... you could have put your gifts to better use."
"I've found a way to make all the money I'll ever need," Darcy said. "That's the best use I can think of."
"That's not true—"
"Don't lecture me, Smith. You didn't have to grow up in a hole like this. You didn't have to drop out of school in the eighth grade to clean houses so that your old lady could keep herself in smack."
"Johnny Arcadi used to operate in this area a long time ago. You knew him, I gather?"
"I knew him, all right," she said, her eyes narrowing. "If it weren't for Arcadi, I might have had a pair of shoes that weren't already worn out by the time I got them. I might have eaten a hot meal when I was a kid. I might not have had to find my mother dead at the age of thirty-five. Oh, Arcadi and I go back a long way. A long way." The hatred fairly oozed out of her. "Nothing pleased me more than to shoot that fat bastard between the eyes."
"But not until you'd learned what you needed to know about the black-market drug business from him," Smith said.
"Why not? For all I'd learned in the factory, I couldn't get a decent job. Think anyone wants to hire a computer designer with an eighth grade education? The only way I knew how to make money was Johnny Arcadi's way. And he taught me a lot, believe me. Johnny even introduced me to Arnold, you know."
"I guessed as much. You undoubtedly stole Arnold's ideas, too."
"Don't make me laugh," Darcy said. "Arnold didn't have any ideas. He was nothing but a brainy, spoiled kid who was looking for adventure. After he invented the heroin-laced coffee, he tramped around Miami for three months searching for a drug dealer to distribute his beans. He found Johnny."
"Did Arcadi agree to deal?"
Darcy made a face. "Arcadi had the imagination of a frog. He thought the kid was crazy. Wouldn't even look at the coffee beans. Besides, he thought nothing would ever replace injectable heroin, the ass. But I knew Arnold had something. We became... very close. He got me the job with his father, who was an even bigger fool than he was. But useful. Once I learned how Donnelly's office operated, I knew the plan for exporting Arnold's coffee would work. It was easy to get Donnelly to go along. He did all the legwork. With me to run the office in Washington, he was free to travel."
She wiped some dust off the computer console with her free hand. "Good old 'George Brown.' Donnelly set up all our American customers. They're not going to stop drinking the coffee now, you know, just because it's illegal. An addict is an addict."
"You've created millions of them."
"Quite," she said. "The black market in this country alone will bring in staggering profits. And once I'm in Donnelly's job, the Peruvinian coffee will be distributed worldwide. Since it looks just like regular coffee beans, I can ship it in broad daylight. Think of it— the biggest-selling illegal drug on earth, and I'll own every bit of it."
"How are you going to get Donnelly's job?" Smith asked. "You're only his secretary."
Her face was innocent. "Why, through CURE, of course," she said.
"You're going to blackmail the government."
"And they'll accept, too. Because I'm not asking for much. No huge sums of money, no nuclear bombs. All I want in exchange for my silence about CURE is a job. Donnelly's job. Oh, I can pull it off. All very fluffy and earnest. And I'll only need the job long enough to establish my contacts in foreign countries. The CIA won't have enough time to have me killed."
She smiled. "I have to thank you for that. If you hadn't come into the office when you did. I'd have been forced to keep Arnold and Donnelly alive and share the wealth. I must say your timing has been perfect. Don't move." She pressed the barrel of the revolver into Smith's temple.
Smith froze.
"There's a car outside. Tell your friends to come down here." She jammed the weapon closer against his flesh.
"No," he said quietly.
"Remo. Chiun," she called. "You have five seconds to come down here, or the gallant Dr. Smith gets a bullet through his head."
Silently Remo and Chiun descended the ladder.
"Kill her," Smith said. "Let her shoot. Then kill her. That's an order."
"It is one we cannot obey," Chiun said, and folded his arms in his sleeves.
"How touchingly loyal," Darcy said. "How did you find me?"
"There was only one black Cadillac Seville pulling out of the parking lot," Remo said. "I figured it was you in the car that led me to Pappy Eisenstein. We trailed you to the airport. It was easy to track you down on this end by your description."
"I remembered you," Chiun said. "When you were leaving the office. I remembered that Mr. Arcadi was in his car when I intercepted him. You were with him."
"Ah, yes indeed," Darcy said. "Your employer and I were just discussing Mr. Arcadi. You see, I didn't stop seeing Johnny when I met Arnold. I went back to kill him. His usefulness was over, you see. But our Oriental friend here snatched Arcadi out of my arms, and led me directly to Remo. That was the beginning of how I learned about you and CURE." She sighed. "Really, Smith. You should have stayed out of this. I only wanted to put Arcadi out of his misery."
"And Hassam," Remo said. "And everyone in his house. And Pappy. And the guys in the warehouse. And the men in the plane. There must have been a lot of misery going around."
"Oh, my," she said, smiling. "Never have so many given so much. And all for li'l ole Darcy Devoe. But I couldn't very well have kept them alive, could I?"
"What about me?" Remo asked. "Why didn't you get rid of me in the first place?"
"How could I? I saw you fight. I knew what you could do. I was hoping the explosion in the plane would have done the trick, but even that didn't work. In the end, though, I was glad. You killed Donnelly for me."
"You can't keep killing everyone who knows about you," Smith said. "Pretty soon you'll have to kill off the whole world."
"Oh, I don't think so. I'll have a nice little life in Peruvina. Build a new house, travel..."
"How is Peruvina yours?" Remo asked. "Maybe you were Arnold's partner, but—"
"She was Arnold's wife," Smith said. "Her real name is Linda Smith. According to my information, Arnold Donnelly married a Linda Smith five months ago. Esmeralda's property went to Donnelly and his son upon her death. When they died, it all became the estate of Linda Smith."
"And no one knows who Linda Smith is," Remo said. "Very convenient."
"Poor Arnold," Darcy sighed. "He was such a nice little husband, too. He even agreed to kill himself rather than face the police or jail. I said I'd do the same. He believed we'd be in paradise together now."