And it had worked. All of it had worked. That man Konrad Blutsturz was a genius. He knew everything. And when Blutsturz had insisted that he be called Herr Fuhrer, Boyce Barlow had made it White Aryan League policy. And when Herr Fuhrer Blutsturz had made the finding of one man named Harold Smith the League's top priority, Boyce Barlow had not questioned him. After all. Harold Smith was a black-souled Smith, possibly the secret leader of the coming Smith uprising that threatened to undermine the racial purity of America.
And when Herr Fuhrer Blutsturz ordered Boyce Barlow and his cousins Luke and Bud to personally go to Falls Church, Virginia, after a scientist named Ferris D'Orr, Boyce Barlow asked only one question.
"You want him alive or dead?"
Chapter 12
At first, Dr. Harold W. Smith thought he was hallucinating. He had not gone home the night before. He dared not. First, there was the fear that he would miss some critical report coming over his computers. And then there was the shame. He did not want to face his wife in his current state, as the old Harold Smith, the lemony-faced, cold-blooded Harold Smith who had been ground down by a lifetime of intelligence work. Last, there was the fear that if he went home, he would lead the unknown killer straight to his door, and to his wife.
"Could you repeat that, please?" Smith asked, thinking that lack of sleep had caused him to hear things. Mrs. Mikulka patiently repeated herself, speaking slowly and distinctly through the office intercom.
"I said a Mr. Chiun is here to see you. He's very insistent, and the guards at the gate don't know what to do."
"You did say Chiun?"
"Yes, Dr. Smith. Chiun. What shall I tell the guards?"
"Tell them to escort Mr. Chiun to my office. Carefully. Tell them not to touch him, provoke him, or otherwise get in his way."
"My goodness, is he an escaped patient?" asked Mrs. Mikulka, placing a plump hand to her well-cushioned chest.
"Just do it," said Smith, one harried eye on his computer console.
Minutes later, the guards left their charge outside Smith's office door.
"Oh, hello." said Mrs. Mikulka, recognizing the Master of Sinanju. She had seen the elderly Oriental before. He had visited Smith on other occasions.
"Greetings, lady-in-waiting to the Emperor Smith. Please inform the emperor that the Master of Sinanju, formerly his royal assassin, has arrived."
"I'll do just that," breathed Mrs. Mikulka, wondering if this man was not a candidate for a Folcroft rubber room.
"That man is here, Dr. Smith."
"Send him in. And take an early lunch."
The Master of Sinanju, resplendent in his blue-and-gold greeting kimono, entered the room with dignified ceremony.
"Hail, Emperor Smith," he called, bowing slightly. "The House of Sinanju brings you greetings and felicitations. Great is my pleasure in beholding your wise, your magnificent, your robust countenance once more."
"Thank you," said Smith, whose eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and whose ashen face looked like a dead man's. "I am surprised to see you."
"Your joy is returned a thousandfold," said the Master of Sinanju.
"Er, you're not working for anyone at the moment, are you? I mean, this is a social call-isn't it?"
"I am between employers at present," admitted Chiun. Smith relaxed slightly. The loyalty of a Master of Sinanju, he knew, stopped at the termination of each contract. There was no telling what Chiun wanted. He might even be here to assassinate Smith himself.
"You're not here about that unresolved matter in Sinanju?" asked Smith cautiously.
"And what unresolved matter is that?" asked Chiun innocently.
"When the Russian business was concluded, I asked you to terminate my life, and you refused."
"Ah." Chiun nodded. "I recall I refused because you had not enough coin to pay. Oh, I am ashamed, Emperor Smith, ashamed to the very core of my being. I should not have refused so minor a boon. In truth, I am here to atone for my error."
"I no longer require your services," Smith said hastily.
"No?" The Master of Sinanju looked disappointed, nearly stricken. "Are you certain?"
"Quite certain. The President has authorized CURE to continue. This releases me from my duty to commit suicide."
Chinn lifted a long-nailed finger.
"This is good," he said. "For the atonement I wish to make has nothing to do with killing you-although I would gladly do so if this were your command. I would do anything the Emperor Smith, in his inexorable wisdom, commands."
"You would?" said Smith, dumbfounded. "Anything?"
"Anything," Chiun said placidly.
"But our contract has been voided. You told me so yourself."
"Clause Fifty-six, Paragraph Four." Chiun nodded. "Which stipulates that contracts between emperors and the House of Sinanju may not be transferred to third parties. You did this, committing the Master of Sinanju to service to Russia. You did this under threat of blackmail by the Russians. Remo has explained these details to me. I bear you no ill for your oversight, for that is surely all that it was. Emperors, of course, cannot be expected to remember all the niceties and details, especially the fine paint."
"I'm glad you feel that way, Master Chiun, but I still don't quite understand what you're doing in America."
"Clause Fifty-six, Paragraph Ten." Chinn smiled. "Under the rubric 'Refunds.' "
"As I recall, a shipment of gold accompanied you on your last submarine crossing to Sinanju. Under the circumstances, I didn't assume we were due a refund. Are you here then to return the gold prepayment?" asked Smith.
"Would that it were in my power," said the Master of Sinanja sadly.
"Then what?"
From the folds of his robe the Master of Sinanju extracted a gold-edged scroll tied with a blue ribbon. Chiun delicately untied the ribbon, causing the scroll to roll open.
"Allow me to read. 'In the event of termination of services, the House of Sinanju is obligated to refund all prepayments, prorated to the term of unfulfilled service.'
"Alas," continued the Master of Sinanju, "Remo, my adopted son, is to wed a Sinanju maiden, and because that maiden was an orphan bereft of family and dowry, and because Sinanju law forbids the House of Sinanju to retain gold that it has not truly earned, I was thrown into a dilemma. I did not know what to do," said Chiun, because emperors sometimes did not know simple words like "dilemma."
"I could not keep the gold. And you had already returned to America when I discovered my lapse. Poor Remo, my son, could not marry his chosen bride because she had no dowry. It was a difficult time. But in my wisdom, I saw a solution to all our problems."
"You gave the gold to Mah-Li," Smith said wearily.
"I gave the gold to Mah-Li," said Chiun triumphantly, in almost the same breath. And he smiled. "Truly, you are a mind reader, as well as generous and understanding."
"You came all the way to Sinanju to tell me that you can't return the gold?"
"No, I have come all the way to the wonderful land of America to atone for my error, as I have said."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning my new dilemma," said Chiun. "I cannot return the gold, for I have given it away."
"You have a great deal of gold, Master of Sinanju," reminded Smith.
"True," said the Master of Sinanju. "But I do not have a submarine. Only a submarine is capable of transporting such generous quantities of gold from Sinanju to these happy shores."
It was true, thought Smith. Annually, he had shipped enough gold ingots to Sinanju to pay off the debts of many small nations. And Chiun never spent that gold, according to Remo.
"I can make arrangements for one of our nuclear subs to pick up the repayment," Smith said.