"I fail to follow."
The President lowered his voice to a hoarse hush. "Before Rust was dragged off, he was talking about men in black."
"That term is not one I am familiar with," Smith admitted.
"Men in black are these mysterious guys who go around confiscating UFO evidence. Some say they're CIA. Others that they're Air Force." The Chief Executive's voice dropped lower. "A lot of people think they're really space aliens."
"I trust you do not believe the latter theory," Smith said thinly.
"A smart President doesn't rule anything in or out when dealing with national-security issues. Especially one who watches 'The X -Files' faithfully."
"I will look into the Russian aspects of this," Smith said unhappily.
"How?"
"If necessary, I will send my people to Russia."
"I can't believe the Russians would attack us like this. And why advertise themselves?"
"I do not know, but I take some of their recent space activity as very suggestive."
"You mean that shuttle launch last month?"
"Yes. It was strange that they reactivated their shuttle program. Buran 1 was retired after one unmanned orbital flight in 1988. Buran 2 orbiter was placed in storage years ago and never flown until now."
"It was a colossal joke. The thing's so unsafe they don't dare send up cosmonauts in it."
"To the contrary, Mr. President. The fact that the Buran could be launched and returned to Earth safely by robot is an advantage over U.S. shuttle technology."
"None of this computes, Smith. Russians or Martians. Why would Martians attack us? We never attacked them."
"I will get back to you," said Harold Smith, disconnecting.
AT FOLCROFT, Smith searched the net for some link or database that would enable him to fix space station Mir's orbital position at the time of the Reliant disaster. He had a fling it wasn't going to be an easy task, so he called up his best brute-force search engine, set it to autosearch U.S. military data banks and moved on to other tasks.
The phone rang not an hour into this process.
It was Remo.
"Smith. We're at a Holiday Inn near Kennedy. Looks like the same thing zapped the Reliant that popped the BioBubble. But there's no telling what it is except very, very hot. It turned the shuttle's tiles to tar."
"It may be a Russian operation," Smith said.
"Where do you get that?"
"A photographer captured the Cyrillic word for 'peace' in the sky the instant before the explosion. That is the name of the Russian space station circling up there."
"Isn't it a peaceful research station?" said Remo.
"That is the story. But remember that Mir was launched under the old Soviet system. And it recently attempted to dock with the Russian version of the shuttle."
"Last time that thing went up, they deployed a doomsday device."
"Yes. The Sword of Damocles. You and Chiun dealt with that. There is reason to believe the Buran carried a new doomsday device to Mir."
"They'd have to be crazy to attack us."
"Facts do not fit the circumstances completely. I want you and Chiun to stand by."
"Okay. But I have a hot date."
"Excuse me?"
"A date. You know, dinner and-"
"With whom?"
"Her name's Kinga Zongar. She's a reporter with the Orlando Sentinel."
"I disapprove," said Smith.
"Disapprove afterward. I don't think I'm going to get anywhere with her."
"Allow me to run a background check."
"On my date?"
"It is a wise precaution."
"Save it. I like surprises," said Remo, who then hung up.
Smith returned to his multitasking. It was going to be a long night, and he expected nothing to make sense until dawn at the earliest.
Chapter 20
"It's the Russians," said Remo, hanging up.
"I told you she was a Russian," spat Chiun.
"I am Hungarian," Kinga said, an edge creeping into her cultured voice.
"Not her. I just finished talking to Smith. Someone snapped a photo of the shuttle just before it blew. The Russian letters for Mir were up in the sky."
"What is this!" Kinga flared.
"It's on TV, according to our boss," Remo told her.
Kinga turned on the Holiday Inn TV without asking and flipped the channels until she got a report that held her attention.
"All America is asking one question-are these letters in the Martian alphabet?" a newscaster was saying. "If so, did actual Martians barge into this studio and haul off the only eyewitness to their handiwork on earth?"
"If that was true," said Remo, "they'd have hauled your butt out of the room, too."
"Hush," said Kinga, raising the volume until both Remo and Chiun winced from the sensory overload.
Remo confiscated the clicker and lowered the volume.
The broadcaster was saying, "Here again is the world-exclusive photograph that is sending chills up and down the spines of Fox viewers everywhere."
Everyone watched. The screen showed a starsprinkled sky and the distinct white configuration of bizarre letters.
"It is Russian," said Chiun.
"Of course it is Russian," said Kinga. "It means 'Peace.' "
"That's the space-station name," said Remo.
"Space station Mir is not responsible for these events," Kinga said heatedly.
"How would you know?" Remo asked.
Kinga said, "It is inconceivable otherwise."
"You are very positive for a Hungarian," said Chiun, drawing near.
"Easy, Chiun," Remo warned.
Chiun inclined his shiny head in Kinga's direction. "I will grant you the privilege of interrogating this Russian."
Remo stepped between Kinga and the TV and folded his lean bare arms. He was facing Kinga, his dark eyes intent. "What makes you so sure the Russians aren't behind this?" he asked.
"It is illogical. If Mir is sending down death rays, why would they advertise their complicity by painting the sky with their own name?"
"Maybe it's a computer glitch."
"Pish! Mir is not designed to flash its name from orbit."
"Only a Russian would possess such knowledge, Remo," Chiun said pointedly.
"Stay out of this, Little Father," Remo said evenly.
"These facts are commonly available. I am only stating the obvious." Kinga stood up. "I must go now."
"What about our date?"
"I will take rain check. I must file story with my newspaper."
"We're not done yet," said Remo.
"We are done with you," said Chiun, handing Kinga her purse.
She took it quickly. "Thank you. I must go now."
"Goodbye," said Chiun.
Remo started to reach out for Kinga, but the Master of Sinanju deflected his hand with a hard blocking wrist.
After she had gone, Remo confronted the Master of Sinanju. "Why'd you let her just go like that?"
"For two reasons. She is not interested in you the way you are in her."
"I don't know how interested I am in her. She's different from most other women."
"And I have her wallet," added Chiun, producing a kid wallet from up his sleeve.
Remo took it.
Inside there was a driver's license, giving an address in Celebration, Florida.
"You figure we should follow her?" Remo asked Chiun.
"It is devious, but we are dealing with a devious person."
"I didn't see any deviousness in her at all. She was perfectly direct. Too direct, maybe."
"She did not throw herself at your feet."
"So?"
"Perhaps because she is not attracted to you."
"I never met a woman who wasn't attracted to me."
"Perhaps because she is not a woman of this world," suggested Chiun.
"Oh, come off it. A moment ago, you were saying she was a Russian, when she's only Hungarian."