And if he became like Colonel Dale Armbruster, the pilot of Air Force One, he could, with one childish decision, destroy mankind. Smith had hoped that with Chiun protecting the President he could send Remo against the Dolomos. But having in all practical respects lost Remo, Smith decided to use Chiun in the White House while having the President send normal agencies against the pair.
How effective the solution was and how long it lasted were key elements of the battle. So far none of the people afflicted had regained their memory. The damage seemed permanent. Even if it weren't, the President would have to die, Smith had decided, because there was no way to make him harmless while under the influence of that solution.
As for the solution itself, how long it stayed potent was a question that had to be answered. They had to know what they were up against. Could a small dose poison a city? Could a large dose create a wider swath of mental destruction?
And what were its potential delivery systems? What the world was facing now was something that could change the very nature of human beings. It could make man a helpless animal, because without his mind he was little more than meat for the predators.
It would be like creating cats without claws or balance.
Smith put these thoughts out of his mind while taking control of the investigation at the Dolomo estate. He got the Agriculture Department to exercise control over the area and moved scientists in with warnings about what they were looking for. Then he put a Secret Service seal around the area, with special instructions. No one could leave and no one was allowed to touch anyone who had entered. Whatever was needed would be sent into the estate. But nothing could come out.
He even ordered the sewer lines plugged up so that nothing could be washed into the water supply. The first news was horrendous. The entire first wave and part of the second wave of Agriculture Department scientists were lost by the time they figured out a surefire way to handle the substance. When the Dolomos had left the estate, Smith hesitated to put a missing persons alert out for them through the police department. He would wait until they failed to appear in court.
Their lawyer, Barry Glidden, had also disappeared, but it was thought that one of the afflicted found in the estate might be him.
Smith stayed just outside the President's new office so that every half-hour he could come in on some pretext or other to see how the President was doing. He was introduced as a new personal secretary. He stayed out of the office when an old OSS buddy of his had a meeting with the President. The old friend now owned his own company.
Chiun arrived near midnight without fanfare.
“Our hour is near,” he told Smith. “I salute you and give you exaltations.”
“Uh, thank you, I suppose,” said Smith. “I think you realize what we are up against. But let me be frank.”
“Your subtlety over the years is now appreciated, your genius evident,” said Chiun, who for a while had given up all hope that Smith was going to make himself emperor of this nation. Consequently Chiun had seen no hope in America for Sinanju, and the moment he could get Remo to leave, he planned to be gone.
But now fate, as ever the curious wonder of the universe, had exposed Harold W. Smith, the silly-looking peculiar man with the strange meaningless missions, as actually far more cunning than Chiun had even imagined. He had shown inordinate patience, a rarity in a white man.
Now with Smith about to become emperor of the richest nation in the world, with Sinanju at his side, his loyal and faithful assassins, the oblivion suffered by Sinanju since the first of the Western world wars was about to come to an end.
With America acknowledging Sinanju, and Sinanju performing as no amateurs could, there would be a demand again for the professional assassin. And of course the greatest demand for Sinanju. It would be an age to rival the reigns of the Borgias, or Ivan the Prompt, who paid the very day a head was delivered to him in Russia, a man curiously known by other whites as Ivan the Terrible, but a person whose word to his assassin was his bond.
All these things did Chiun think about as he joyously hailed Harold W. Smith on the threshold of their shared greatness.
But Smith only seemed worried.
Chiun assured him that it was normal to be worried.
“A first for you, an age-old mission for us,” said Chiun.
“The first thing I want you to do is to examine the Oval Office.”
“We will remove him there,” said Chiun.
“Not necessarily,” said Smith.
“We will use a more secluded place. When he sleeps.”
“Perhaps,” said Smith. “First I want to protect him from something.”
“Of course, but may I suggest something that has worked well through the ages?” said Chiun. He noticed Smith's office was sparse and small. But it had always been like that. He hoped that Smith would not be one of those emperors who insanely denied themselves the glory of the throne, living frugal and bare lives. Genghis Khan, who ruled from the saddle, was impossible to work for, and when the fine civilization of Baghdad fell before his barbaric sword, it was a sad day for Sinanju.
But one could never tell with Smith. He was inscrutable.
“No. What I want is this. We will attempt to protect the President from a certain substance. If we cannot, then and only then will I possibly order that you do what you have to do. But I don't want to put this country through another assassination. I want it to appear like a heart attack. Can you do that?”
“A heart attack is one thing, a seizure is another. We do a wonderful fall with just the right bones broken, leaving the face untouched for a state funeral. I would recommend that,” said Chiun. “We have a prepared speech that could be translated into English. You assure everyone you are going to carry on his wise policies, except make them more lenient while enforcing safety even more. People like to hear that. It goes over so well. It is a good way to start a reign.”
“You don't quite understand. Let's just look at the Oval Office for now. I'm looking for a substance that can take away memory. I believe a small amount has affected the President. It occurred in that office. I'm afraid of what would happen if you touch it, so touch nothing.”
“You mean the sort of poisons that move through the skin? Do not worry about us.”
“You mean Remo is safe from that too?”
“At peak, the skin is as controllable as the lungs,” said Chiun.
“I see,” said Smith, “but Remo was not at peak.”
“Is he all right?” asked Chiun.
“Yes,” said Smith. It was the first time he had ever lied to either Remo or Chiun. “He's fine.”
Smith did not want Chiun distracted.
“I wonder if around the White House you might wear something less flamboyant than a gold-and-red robe. I know it's your greeting robe to the ruler, but I would prefer you go unnoticed.”
“Until the time is right?” said Chiun.
“If we must eliminate the President, I want you to take Remo away from here.”
“But how will you rule?”
“You will understand everything at the right time,” said Smith.
“A great emperor is a mysterious emperor, for who knows what wonders he performs,” said Chiun. Actually emperors who acted mysteriously did very well for a very short time until their empires collapsed around them, because no one knew what to do.
Chiun examined the Oval Office for any strange substance. He found forty of them, from the synthetic material in the flags to the plastic on the desk.
“We are looking for something oily that makes people forget.”
“Olive-flavored gin,” said Chiun.
“Not drunk, steals the mind.”