Chapter 26
Dr. Aldace Gerling stood anxiously over the elderly patient. He would have sat down, but for some reason that just didn't seem right. There was something in the old man's bearing, even unconscious, that commanded respect.
The Asian was truly a unique specimen. Delusional but remarkably healthy for a man of his advanced years. Dr. Gerling had considered writing a paper on him at one point, but when he brought it up to Dr. Smith, the Folcroft director had gotten a very strange look on his face. The last time Dr. Gerling had seen a look like that one was the night years ago when he'd taken his in-laws to a new Chinese restaurant and they'd all wound up with food poisoning. Dr. Smith said no to the paper and Dr. Gerling let the matter drop.
Right now a published paper in some obscure professional journal was the last thing on Aldace Gerling's mind. The Folcroft psychiatrist's back already ached from the hours he'd spent hunched over Director Smith. As he waited now over the old Asian's bed, he shifted from foot to foot.
There was perspiration on the doctor's broad forehead. A frown cut deeply through the jowls of his ruddy face.
Dr. Gerling was greatly relieved when Dr. Smith hurried into the hospital room. Folcroft's director was accompanied by Assistant Director Howard and the Asian's friend, Remo.
"What's the matter?" Remo demanded. A worried look was settled deep in the skull-like hollows of his dark eyes.
"Nothing's wrong," Dr. Gerling said as the trio joined him near the bed. "In fact, I believe I have good news. I don't think this man is under any kind of hypnosis."
Mark Howard had given Smith the rapid-fire details on their way downstairs. The CURE director looked down at the mummified face of the Master of Sinanju.
"What makes you think that?" Smith asked cautiously.
"He was exposed to the subliminal hypnotic flashes. Wasn't he?" As he spoke, the CURE director glanced at Remo.
"I saw them with my own eyes, Smitty," Remo insisted.
"That's unlikely," Dr. Gerling assured him. "The flashes wouldn't register to the normal human eye. But either way, he seems to be okay. Look."
The doctor took out his penlight. With his thumb, he drew back one of Chiun's wrinkled eyelids. The exposed hazel orb darted angrily around its socket. When it fixed on Remo, it locked in place, shooting daggers.
"It looks like he's still under to me," Remo said worriedly. "Don't you see that look he's giving me? By the looks of it, he still wants to kill me."
If an eye could nod agreement, Chiun's did. "See?" Remo said.
"No, no, no," Gerling insisted firmly. "That has nothing to do with any hypnotic state. He's conscious, I'm sure of it. I think he's just angry at you."
Chiun's eye nodded once again.
Dr. Gerling released the eyelid and it fluttered shut over the Master of Sinanju's enraged eyeball.
"I was going to use the same technique I used to draw Dr. Smith out of his hypnotic state," the Folcroft doctor explained, "but he seemed already out of it. His pupils were responsive before I even started. I think he's fine."
"He's always kind of mad at Remo, Doctor," Mark Howard ventured. "Would that make a difference?"
"If you mean is this genuine anger surfacing within a hypnotic state, I don't think so," Gerling said. "I think it's the raal thing." He looked questioningly at Remo. "He's mad at you for something."
The other two men glanced at Remo, as well. Remo gave all three of them a nasty look.
"So sue me-he's ticked at me for something again," he growled. "He ain't exactly Robert-freaking-Young, you know."
"I think it's safe for you to undo whatever acupressure you used on him," Dr. Gerling said.
"You got a funny definition of safe, pal," Remo said.
"Very well, Dr. Gerling," Smith said. "Thank you for all your help. Now, if you will excuse us. Mark?" Smith and Remo stayed at the bedside as the assistant CURE director ushered Dr. Gerling from the room. He shut the door and rejoined the others near the bed.
"You think I should do this, Smitty?" Remo asked.
"I trust Dr. Gerling's professional opinion," Smith replied. There was a tone of nervous uncertainty in the older man's tart voice.
"Tell me how much you trust him when we're sweeping little Smitty bits up and down this nuthouse hallway," Remo said dryly. "Okay, stand back. And if he's anything like he was this morning, get ready to head for the hills, Fuji."
As Smith and Howard stood with their backs to the door, Remo leaned over the bed.
With a feathery touch, Remo pressed his thumb to Chiun's forehead. The Master of Sinanju's eyes instantly shot open. As quickly as they did, he was springing to his feet.
For a tense instant, Remo thought his teacher would launch into another attack. But the old man became a frozen statue of cold fury. Hands clenched to knots of bone at his sides as he glared up at his pupil.
"Is this what I've become to you?" Chiun demanded, his singsong voice ringing high with rage. "I am now some thing to be carted around and disposed of at inconvenient moments? Can my worst fears possibly be true? Do you crave the title of Reigning Master so much that you would take me and dump me off in some dank basement in the hope that I will die from the humiliation?"
"Take it easy, Little Father," Remo said. "Don't you remember MacGulry's office? You were hypnotized."
"Codswallop," Chiun sniffed. "A Master of Sinanju cannot be hypnotized."
"Vassily Rabinowitz," Remo said, reminding his teacher of a time years ago when he had, in fact, been hypnotized.
Chiun's slivered eyes sprang wide with rage. "Is this your plan?" he demanded in Korean, stamping his sandaled feet. "To shame me into an early grave? Are you now the town crier of my worst humiliations? Is my every disgrace to be shouted from the rooftops?"
Smith didn't understand the language, but the old Korean's tone was clear.
"It's true, Master Chiun," Smith insisted. "Look at the air before you. Do you see something?"
The Master of Sinanju scowled. "I see nothing but an ungrateful pupil," he snapped in English. "If there was any air there, his big white nose breathed it all up on me."
"Look carefully. Stare at the wall," Smith pressed. "Do you see any words?"
"What is this idiot babbling about?" Chiun asked Remo in Korean.
"Those subliminal commands MacGulry tried to use on you," Remo said in English. "You remember it, don't you?"
Chiun's face fouled. "Of course."
"I think you're supposed to still be able to see it even after you come out of it," Remo said. "Shittman told me he could still see the words even after he came around."
"It was the same for me," Smith interjected.
"I see no words on walls," Chiun spit.
"Odd," Smith said. "Perhaps your Sinanju training dispels the lingering effects."
"There are no lingering effects because I was not hypnotized," Chiun snapped. "Whatever Remo tells you to the contrary is part of the web of lies he has concocted to hasten his ascendency to Reigning Masterhood." He waved his furious hands in the air. "Bah! I refuse to bear the indignity of this any longer."
Kimono hems twirling defiantly around his bony ankles, he swept out the door. Mark barely opened it in time. He let the door swing shut after the old man was gone.
"He let me off the hook pretty easy," Remo mused. As he stared at the door, a dark notch formed in his brow.
"That was easy?" Howard asked. "Have I told you lately how glad I am I'm not you?"
"Mutual," Remo said.
"We have more pressing matters," Smith interrupted urgently. "Mark, I want all televisions in Folcroft confiscated for the duration of this crisis. I don't want you to risk going near them. Have the orderlies lock them in a supply room. Now, given Friend's ability to worm his way into computer systems, for safety's sake I can no longer use the one in my office. Fortunately, he doesn't know you've joined CURE. I assume that's why you've been left out of the attacks so far. You should be safe for the time being."