"Yes," said Smith uncomfortably. A year ago, when CURE had been compromised by the Russians, it had nearly ended for all of them. Thinking that he would never see Remo or Chiun again, Smith had allowed the President to believe that Remo had been liquidated by Smith's own hand. It had been Smith's way of atoning to Remo for past injustices, now that Remo had decided to settle down in Sinanju. For the past year Smith had lived in dread that the truth would come out.
"People under stress are often confused," the President agreed slowly. "And the Vice-President has escaped two assassination attempts now."
"I have a new lead on the leak," said Smith. "There is a man named Tulip who has sent a letter detailing our operation to the Vice-President. There is reason to believe that Governor Princippi has also received an identical letter. The Master of Sinanju is trying to verify this right now."
"Who? Why? It sounds as if this person is bent on shutting you down, Smith."
"If so, his approach is inefficient. He could have easily leaked what he knows to the press. I would have no choice but to terminate operations if this broke publicly. "
"I know one thing. I did not send anyone named Adonis to protect the Vice-President. I told the Vice-President otherwise only because he was yelling for your head. He wants you placed under arrest. "
"Sir, it may be possible that a rival intelligence agency, having learned about CURE, is copying its methods in an effort to replace us."
"I doubt the KGB would detail a man to protect an American politician."
"I meant a domestic rival group. The CIA or the Defense Intelligence Agency. Or possibly someone on your National Security Council. "
"Don't start that with me, Smith. The NSC is not involved with this."
"I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I cannot ignore any possibilities. "
"Just don't stir up any unnecessary mud. As far as I'm concerned, you remain sanctioned to operate. Don't give me a reason to change my mind." And the President hung up.
That had been hours ago. Smith had pondered the situation without respite. His CURE computers showed no strange activities on any level of America's regular intelligence agencies. And Smith had many people on his payroll who worked for the CIA, the DIA, and the NSA but who actually reported to him without realizing it.
If it was not any of those agencies, who then?
By the time night fell and the rain started, Smith was still lost in the imponderability of it all.
Hours later, Remo and Chiun walked in unannounced. "Remo," Smith said in surprise. "And Master Chiun."
"Hi, Smitty," said Remo. "I've got good news and bad news. "
"He means good news and better news," corrected Chiun.
"Let me tell it, will you, Chiun?"
"Ignore him," said the Master of Sinanju, lifting the crease of his trouser legs delicately and settling into a chair. "He is tired from our long journey. And his memory may be failing him."
Remo turned to Chiun. "I tell you, Little Father, I saw him as plain as day. He had Western eyes."
"Nonsense. His eyes were Japanese. I know a Japanese when I see one. "
"Japanese don't normally stand over six feet tall."
"Nor did he," insisted Chiun. "He was much shorter than that. He was short even for a Japanese, who walk with their legs bent like monkeys."
Smith interrupted wearily. "What are you two arguing about now?"
"Nothing important," said Chiun.
"The bad news," said Remo.
"Give me the good news," sighed Smith, grateful that this was his final operation involving Remo and Chiun. Remo scaled a letter across the room. It landed between fingers of Smith's upraised hand. An observer would have sworn Smith had plucked it from his sleeve like a magician. "I wish you wouldn't do things like that," Smith said, looking at the envelope. It was addressed to Governor Michael Princippi. The letter bore Korean stamps and a Seoul cancellation mark.
"The letter?" Smith asked, plucking the contents out and unfolding them. There were three sheets of paper covered with small spidery handwriting. Smith scanned the contents all the way to the end, where it was signed "Tulip."
"Whoever this Tulip is, he knows everything about us," said Smith, his face sagging like candlewax reaching its melting point.
"Hey, that was supposed to be the good news," said Remo. "You wanted the letter. We got it for you. Don't break the furniture in your rush to thank us."
Smith let the letter fall from unfeeling fingers. He ran his hands through his thinning hair once and buried his face in them. He felt numb.
"What is the bad news?" he asked hollowly.
"Someone tried to kill Governor Princippi when we were at his house."
"When you were-"
"I personally dispatched three of the vermin," said Chiun, leaping to his feet. "You should have been there, Emperor Smith. You would have been proud of your servant. Though alone and outnumbered, bullets flying all about my aged head, I dispatched them one, two, three."
"Alone? Where were you, Remo?"
"I was in the governor's bedroom stealing the letter."
"The governor did not know you were there, of course."
"He didn't see me steal the letter," Remo said quickly.
Smith relaxed. "Excellent. You recovered the letter and prevented an attempt on the governor's life without anyone being the wiser."
"Not exactly," said Remo.
"Not exactly? Please don't tell me that-"
"Smitty, something strange is going on," Remo said. "When the shooting started, the governor came downstairs to see what was happening. Chiun had killed most of the killers, but there was still one running loose."
"And you got him?"
"No, some screwball in a ninja suit beat me to it. I would have had him easy but I lost a few seconds when the guy drew aim on the governor. I had to step in front to protect the governor's body. Otherwise I would have been all over the ninja. Honest."
"The governor saw you." It was not a question, but a sick statement of fact.
"Sorry, Smitty. When he discovers the letter's gone, he's going to know it was us. We tried asking for it earlier in the day, but it was no go."
"Oh, my God," said Smitty.
"Smitty, there was another thing. This ninja popped out of nowhere. He said he was from the President. It was just like the situation with the Vice-President, only instead of a kung-fu beach boy, it was some white guy in a ninja suit."
"He was Japanese!" shouted Chiun. "His eyes were Japanese."
"I stood closer to him than you and I say he was white," insisted Remo.
"Are you saying that my eyes are fading?" bristled the Master of Sinanju.
"I saw what I saw. Something's fishy here, Smitty. The President doesn't employ ninjas."
"I had a call from the President," said Smith dully. His eyes were focused in on themselves, like those of a man who had been told he was terminal. "According to him, your Adonis had represented himself to the Vice-President as an official presidential bodyguard. The President denied it, but now I don't know. Anything is possible. Anything."
"I am glad to hear that anything is possible," said the Master of Sinanju, floating out of his chair. He stepped up to Smith's desk and set a plastic card on it. "If anything is possible, then it will be possible for the Master of Sinanju to obtain a card such as this one."
"I told you," said Smith, picking up the card idly. "American Express won't do business with you anymore. But perhaps I can work out something with one of the other credit-card companies." He stopped speaking and stared intently at the card.
"Hah!" said Remo triumphantly. "It's a phony, isn't it? I can tell by your face. I knew that fake ninja was spinning a story."
"This card is blank," said Smith, turning it over several times.
"Give it here," demanded Chiun, taking it back. He looked at the card. Remo leaned over his shoulder to look at it too.