“I don't want to leave America,” said Remo.
“You must. It's almost been a full-time job, covering for you, making sure people don't put together all those strange deaths you and Chiun have left behind.”
“Why should I have to leave if I served the country so well?”
“Because you're like me. You love it, Remo. That's why.”
“You mean I'll be an exile?”
“Yes,” said Smith.
“I don't know.”
“Yes you do, I think.”
“All right. But don't end the game for a silly reason.”
“Did you think I would?” asked Smith.
“No,” said Remo.
“All right. I am going to speak to Chiun. I want him with me at the White House. Now, I don't want any grand entrances with fourteen steamer trunks or pages announcing the arrival of the emperor's assassin. I want it sub-rosa. I want it secret. You are going to have to tell him how to enter. Tell him just to ask for Route Officer Nine. It's part of a system of clearances for entrance to the White House.”
“It's the one that isn't cleared, isn't it?” asked Remo.
“Exactly. I want no one to see him enter.”
“You seem especially interested that no one sees him this time.”
“Not especially,” said Smith. “It's just that I get the drift from Chiun that he feels he doesn't get proper attention.”
“But he's always felt like that. Why is it special now?” asked Remo.
“You'll find out.”
“I think I know. And I hope I won't,” said Remo. “Are you not using me because you think I am not at peak?”
“No,” said Smith.
“Then why not?”
“Because you might not be able to go through with it. You are a patriot, for all your Sinanju presence. That's what you are. Chiun would have no trouble with this particular assignment.”
Chiun watched Hollywood go by, occasionally glancing at the price of a mere string of diamonds in the window. It was an exorbitant price, but the diamonds were nothing compared to the treasure of Sinanju which was stolen while Remo was foolishly trying to save his country. Gold lasted. Countries did not.
But of course, try reasoning with someone whom whites had brought up.
“Smitty wants to talk to you,” said Remo.
“More nonsense?”
“No,” said Remo. And when Chiun was close enough to hear a whisper, he said:
“He wants you at the White House. He's there. I'll tell you how to enter.”
“At last, he makes his move toward the throne,” said Chiun. Smith had tried even Chiun's patience, he had been so slow at taking the proper course toward being recognized as the true emperor of this land.
“Hail, O gracious Emperor, your servant stands here to glorify your name,” said Chiun.
“Is Remo all right? Can he function at moving on the target people I've set out for him?”
“He is attuned to the very wind, O gracious Majesty.”
“Well, you said a few days ago that he was not up to what you considered correct. Has he recovered?”
“Your voice heals the ill.”
“Then I can count on him without you?”
“More important, you can count on me without him,” said Chiun. “Your reign will be the glory of your nation, the star by which future generations guide their very hopes.”
“Level with me. What can't Remo do?” asked Smith.
“He cannot do what the Master does, but he can do everything else. Anything you need him for he can do.”
“All right. Put on Remo.”
Chiun returned the phone to Remo with a glowing report.
“The emperor has come to his senses.”
And then Remo was sure. For some reason the President was going to die.
“Is it definite, what you're calling Chiun in for?”
“No. Not definite in the least. Not definite, Remo. We're facing something far more difficult to deal with than anything in the past. I believe the Dolomos are behind it. It's what is making those witnesses forget. They really did forget.”
“Then it wasn't that I had lost something.”
“No. There is a substance that creates forms of amnesia. It regresses people. I think it can be transferred through the skin. There are drugs that can do that. I want you to get it from the Dolomos. I am sure those petty little hucksters are behind it.”
“What should I do when I get it?”
“Be very careful with it. Make sure it doesn't touch you.”
“Not a problem with me or Chiun. Things can't touch us if we don't want,” said Remo.
“Good,” said Smith.
Remo hung up. Chiun was beaming.
“Well, I can't say I wish you luck, because I think I know what you are going to do.”
“At last Smith is going to make his move on the emperor. I must admit, Remo. I had misjudged him. I had thought he was insane.”
“You've got to enter quietly. With no fanfare, through a special route.”
“I will be the stealth of yesterday's midnight. Don't look so glum. Don't look so sad. We will help Smith reign in glory, or if he proves to be as truly insane as I have thought, we will help his successor reign in glory.”
“I thought Sinanju never betrayed an employer.”
“No one has ever complained about how we do business.”
“No one's been left, Little Father. The histories are lies.”
“A man without history is not a man. All histories do not have to be true, but they have to be histories. You will see. I am right here, as I have been right before.”
Remo did not tell Chiun that when he killed the President Smith would not take his job, but take his own life. And then they would both have to leave the country. Nor did Chiun bother to tell either Smith or Remo the one thing Remo had not regained in training: the ability to control the outer layers of his skin.
Chapter 10
Beatrice took charge of the packing. This meant she abused whoever was really doing the job. Rubin, despite the hectoring, got the two things they would need to continue their fight for freedom.
Three suitcases of cash, and the formula.
Then he called together his Warriors of Zor. They gathered in the basement of his estate. The basement was dark. They wouldn't see a wheezing pill-popper, only hear the powerful voice of their master.
“Warriors of Zor. Your leaders are making a strategic retreat. But know this. The forces of goodness can never be defeated. You can never be defeated. We shall conquer and give the world a new day, a new age, a new order. May the power of the universe be with you, and with your kin forever. Alarkin sings your praise.”
“Alarkin?” asked an insurance adjuster who had joined Poweressence to cure his headaches.
“Chapter seventeen in Return of the Alarkin Drumoids.”
“I don't read that crap.”
“It can inspire you,” said Rubin. “Prepare for my return. Prepare to receive word from our new home, a safe place, a more decent place where enlightenment is loved, not fought. Where honor is respected, and the good walk humbly with their gods forever in peace.”
“The planet Alarkin?” asked one woman.
“No. I think the Bahamas,” said Rubin. “Be gone, and bless the very essence of your spirit.”
That done, he rolled Beatrice's lingerie, folded her favorite blouses, wrapped her pumps, high heels, and slippers in several layers of tissue paper, and then called his press conference.
With Kathy Bowen not with them, only one reporter from a local weekly showed up. Rubin had built an auditorium for just such an occasion.
The reporter sat alone in the twentieth row.
“You can come up front,” said Rubin.