"Exactly. Because he has your gold. But unlike gold, merchants in America do not get to keep this card. They put it through crude machines or copy down the unnecessary numbers which for some reason are on my wondrous card. And then they give it back. Some of them even say thank you."
"Imagine that. They must not know how you're putting one over on them."
The Master of Sinanju drew himself up haughtily. "I am doing nothing of the kind, Remo. I give them the card. They give it back. How am I at fault if the merchants of America are so feeble-witted that they cheat themselves at every turn?"
"You have a point there, Little Father. But maybe it isn't what you think."
"Do you know something I do not, Remo?"
"Let's go see Smith. He'll explain it."
"I cannot. I am here on important service to the Generous Emperor Smith, Dispenser of American Express."
"Last week he was Mad Harold."
"He has changed, Remo. Surely you noticed."
"He did look grayer, at that."
"He has many burdens. Burdens whiten the hair." And the Master of Sinanju made a point of stroking his snowy beard.
"I was talking about his face."
"He is not ill?" squeaked Chiun.
"He has problems. But never mind that now. What's this about your returning to service?"
"It is true. I am bound to serve Generous Harold another year."
"Mah-Li will give up the gold."
"But then what will you do?" asked Chiun. "You can't marry her without the gold for a dowry. It is contrary to Sinanju law. Unless you wish to break the engagement. If you wish to break the engagement, I will be disappointed, but I will try to bear up. Yes, if that is what you must do, let us sit down now and write to the poor child and inform her of your decision while there is still strength in our breaking hearts."
"Nothing doing," Remo said flatly. "We're getting married. As for the dowry, I'll go earn a new dowry for her."
"That is forbidden," said Chiun. "The husband does not provide the dowry. It is as foolish as the American merchants returning the wonder card."
"I'm not going back to Sinanju without you, Chiun. You know that."
"Maybe Smith has a place for you in the organization," said Chiun thoughtfully. "I cannot guarantee this, but I will put in a good word for you, if that is your wish. I cannot promise you a magic card, for obviously only assassins with seniority get these, but perhaps there is such a thing as a silver card. Or a titanium card. I understand titanium is a very valuable metal in America."
"Forget it. I'm not working for Smith. Those days are gone."
"But their pleasantness lingers in the memory, does it not?" Chiun asked.
"Right," said Remo. "It does not."
Just then the elevator doors slid open.
"Expecting company?" Remo asked.
"Not such as these," said Chiun disdainfully.
The three men who gingerly stepped from the elevator cage wore goosedown jackets, stained bluejeans, and plastic baseball caps decorated with Confederate-flag decals. Their pores reeked of beer.
"We're lookin' for Ferris Wheel," said Boyce Barlow, pointing a double-barreled shotgun at Remo and Chiun. "Try a carnival," said Remo.
"Do you mean Ferris D'Orr?" asked Chiun.
"Yeah, that's him," said Boyce Barlow. "Trot him out, hear?"
"I am not deaf," said the Master of Sinanju. "One moment."
"What are you doing?" Remo asked Chiun, who was calmly walking to the door with the Do Not Disturb sign on it. Chiun knocked.
"What?" Ferris D'Orr called angrily.
"A moment of your time, O metallurgical one." Ferris stuck his head out the door.
"Are these the bandits who attempted to kidnap you?"
"Yeow!" said Ferris, slamming the door.
"I think that was a yes," Remo pointed out.
"I think it was too," said Chiun, walking up to the three men. "Watch this," he added under his breath. Remo leaned back against the wall. He yawned, The Master of Sinnnju stopped before the three men. They pointed rifles at his head. The Master of Sinanju smiled and bowed from the waist, first unbuttoning his coat.
The three men looked uncertain. When they did not bow in return, the Master of Sinanju kicked them in their shins, producing the required bowing action.
With fingers so fast they blurred, the Master of Sinanju sent the first two fingers on his right hand into the eyes of the man on the end.
The man dropped his rifle. His hands started to reach for his eyes, but he fell backward before completing the motion.
Boyce Barlow heard his cousin Luke fall over. The closing elevator doors vised his head. Then he heard Bud, on the other side, do the same. Boyce tightened down on the double triggers of his shotgun. He stopped squeezing because, suddenly, two fingers pushed his eyes back into his brain with such force that the pressure cracked his skull. That crack was the last sound Boyce Barlow ever heard.
Chiun returned to Remo's side, dry-washing his hands. "I've never seen you do moves like that before, Little Father," Remo said.
"I learned them from Moe Stooge," said Chiun happily.
"Never heard of him."
"Really, Remo, he is very famous in America. He is one of the Stooge Brothers. They are excellent entertainers. Possibly brilliant. I would like to visit them as soon as possible. I may be able to help them refine some of their moves."
"No chance," said Remo.
"You would deny me such a tiny request?"
"I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, but they all died years ago."
Chiun trembled. "Curly too?"
"He was the first to go."
The Master of Sinanju bowed his head in sorrow. "The good die young," he said.
Remo went over to the three bodies and tested their carotid arteries.
"They're dead," he said.
"Of, course. They are the vicious would-be kidnappers of Ferris the Metallurgist. They did not deserve to live. What are you doing?"
"Checking them for identification."
"Why bother? The dead have no need of their names."
"But Smith might. Nothing. Their wallets are empty."
"What color?" asked Chiun.
"This one's black."
"I will take it, seeing he does not need it any longer."
"Okay, let's go," said Remo, straightening.
"Where?"
"Back to Smith. We're going to get you unhired."
"But, Remo, what about Ferris?"
"Smith sent you to protect him from these guys. He's protected. Permanently. Let's go."
"I cannot. My duty is to stand guard until my emperor orders otherwise," said Chiun.
"What's going on out there?" Ferris' frightened voice called out from behind the lab door.
"It is all right, Ferris. Your assailants have been vanquished by the awesome magnificence that is Sinanju."
"Are they dead?" asked Ferris, stepping carefully into the hall.
"Of course," said Chiun, dragging the bodies into the elevator.
"Is he always like this?" Ferris asked Remo. "Usually he makes me dispose of the bodies," Remo said. "Watch. He'll say something about being too old to lug them onto the elevator."
But when the Master of Sinanju continued piling the three Barlow cousins onto the elevator in silence, Remo was forced to ask, "Need any help, Little Father?"
"I am fine," said Chiun. "Do not trouble yourself. I will dispose of these carrion and return momentarily."
"I don't get it," Remo said in a shocked voice. "He never handles the bodies himself."
"They pile up a lot, huh?" asked Ferris D'Orr.
"Sometimes they're hip-deep."
In the alley behind the Lafayette Building, the Master of Sinayju tossed the Barlow cousins into the building dumpster. Seeing that it was nearly full, he stirred the garbage until the bodies were covered.
Chiun did not know who these men were and he did not care. Perhaps they were free-lance, possibly they worked for someone else. Smith would know. But if Smith identified them as the instigators, and not hirelings, then Chiun might be recalled to Folcroft, his mission accomplished.