The President's voice hardened. "I've been awake for several minutes. Why does everyone assume I'm not awake at this hour? It's already nine o'clock."
"Yes, Mr. President," Smith said stiffly. "If I may make my report."
"Fire away," said the President.
"As you may know, there was an attempt on Governor Princippi's life last night."
"A gang of street punks," said the President. "Probably copycatting the attacks on the Vice-President."
"There's no reason to believe otherwise at this point in time," Smith said, "but we should not assume anything."
"The gang members are dead, I'm told."
"Yes, my special person accounted for most of them."
"That should impress the governor."
"Mr. President, the governor knows about our operation. And he's not happy with it, or with me."
The President's hand tightened on the receiver. "How?"
"It appears that an unknown person signing himself 'Tulip' has sent letters describing CURE operations to both the governor and the Vice-President. The governor's letter is in my hands. It's postmarked South Korea. From that, I believe I can infer the source of Tulip's knowledge."
"Yes?"
"He seems to have accessed personal diaries of our special person which have remained in the village of Sinanju since the incident with the Soviets last year."
"I remember it well," the President said bitterly.
"A fluke, sir," Smith said uncomfortably.
"Well, this makes two flukes in one year."
"I am aware of that, sir. If it's your wish that I cease operations, I can be shut down within the hour. I should have been aware of this possibility."
"I'm not prepared to do that, Smith," said the President without hesitation. "After that last incident, you'll recall we decided that you could operate without an enforcement arm. You'd be doing that if your special person, the Korean, hadn't returned to America and offered you another year of service. Isn't it about time for your contract with him to lapse?"
"Yes, he handed me a new one just this morning. Its terms are quite generous. Of course, I explained to him that if I sign it, I may not be able to guarantee its terms after you leave office."
"What the next administration decides is their business. For now, you will continue operations."
"And our special person?"
"Have him destroy his records. Make that a stipulation of this new contract. If he refuses, terminate his employment. Is that all?"
"Not quite, sir. There was another player in the Governor Princippi incident. A ninja master. He claimed that he was protecting the governor at your behest."
"I have no such report, Smith."
"No?" said Smith vaguely.
"You do believe me, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. I have no reason to think otherwise."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the President said acidly.
"I apologize for my tone, Mr. President, but you have to understand my confusion. Two martial-arts experts have preempted separate assassination attempts. Both claimed to be working for you."
"Governor Princippi has said nothing about any ninja. His story is that the assassins were stopped by persons unknown. I assumed that it was your unknown person."
"It was, but this ninja was also on the scene. I don't understand how he could have known of an assassination attempt ahead of time, unless he is sanctioned, or. . . "
"Or what?"
"Or he's part of the plot."
"I'll have the Secret Service look into it."
"I could handle it, sir," Smith said hopefully.
"Stick to your computers, Smith. For now. That's all." And the President hung up.
In his office at Folcroft Sanitarium, Dr. Harold W. Smith rose from behind his desk and locked the door. From a closet he removed a gray three-piece suit identical to the one he wore. Changing out of the wrinkled suit, Smith plugged in an electric razor and efficiently scoured the stubble from his face. He checked himself in a hand mirror and adjusted his rimless glasses. When he was done, he buttoned his fresh white shirt and knotted his Dartmouth tie. Putting away the razor and hand mirror, Smith tripped the intercom.
"Mrs. Mikulka, could you ask that Mr. Chiun and Mr. Remo come to my office?"
"Yes, Dr. Smith."
Minutes later, Remo and Chiun entered. "Please close the door," requested Smith.
"Sure, Smitty," said Remo.
Seeing that his new contract lay open before Harold Smith, the Master of Sinanju burst into a broad smile. "Perhaps Remo need not attend this meeting inasmuch as it concerns matters between you and me," Chiun said pointedly.
"I'd prefer that Remo remain." Chiun's face fell.
"Thanks, Smitty," said Remo.
"I'll be brief," began Smith. "I've looked over your contract, Master Chiun. It is accurate, insofar as the terms we discussed yesterday go."
"Excellent," said Chiun, puffing out his chest. "It just so happens I have with me the ceremonial goose quill. Here."
Smith raised his hand. "One moment, please."
"Two moments," interrupted Remo. "Don't I have some say in this?"
"None," said the Master of Sinanju. "You are not part of this contract. You are dead. Smith has led the President to believe this. And dead people do not sign contracts."
"I'm not signing anything," said Remo hotly. "I'm returning to Sinanju. You promised that you'd return with me. "
"I promised no such thing."
"You didn't say you wouldn't."
"And I did not say that I would. Emperor Smith has graciously offered me another year of employment in this land, and I have decided, because you are unwilling to accompany me on my Sinanju World tour, that this is the only way I can continue to support the starving villagers of Sinanju. "
"Bulldookey," said Remo. "You wouldn't let me marry without attending the ceremony, would you?"
"No, of course not," retorted Chiun. "But would you marry without me being present? That is the true question."
"We'll find out. I plan on setting the date as soon as I hit the beach."
"It might be that the Emperor Smith will allow me a week off for that purpose. Say, next summer, perhaps?"
"Actually I'd like you both to return to Sinanju immediately," said Smith.
Chiun's parchment face collapsed. "Return?" he squeaked.
"I'm already packed." Remo grinned, pulling a toothbrush from his back pocket.
"It has to do with one last stipulation upon which I must insist if we are to come to an agreement here," said Smith.
Chiun looked at Smith. Then he looked at Remo's pleased face.
"Very well," he said decisively. "Name it. Whatever it is, I am certain it will be agreeable, for you have been recorded in the histories of Sinanju as Generous Harold the First. "
"You must destroy every record of your service to America that you have in Sinanju."
The Master of Sinanju froze. His head flinched as if from a blow. He said nothing for long moments. Finally, in a low, too-quiet voice, he asked, "Why would you ask me to do such a thing?"
"This letter from Tulip. It is postmarked South Korea."
"Another place entirely," said Chiun. "Sinanju is in North Korea."
"I believe this Tulip has stolen or accessed your records. It is the only explanation for the precise knowledge he possesses."
"Impossible," sputtered Chiun. "The scrolls of Sinanju are kept in the House of the Masters. It is guarded continuously. The door is double-locked."
"That's right, Smitty," Remo put in. "I locked it myself when I left Sinanju. "
"Yes, that is correct," Chiun said. He froze. Suddenly he wheeled upon Remo. "You! You were the last one to leave Sinanju! If my scrolls are missing, it is your fault!" he shouted, leveling a shaking finger at Remo.
"Hey, Chiun, lighten up. You just got through telling Smitty that it's impossible for the scrolls to be missing."
"It is impossible! But if they are missing, it is no doubt your fault, clumsy white who cannot properly lock a door after him. You probably left the water running too."