Chiun asked to exchange clippings. He read "Peanuts" and Remo read "Mary Worth." Chiun did not like animals that talked. Momentarily, the ambassador himself returned.
What, he asked, did the Master of Sinanju think of the dangers of the Scyths? What, in the great history of the House of Sinanju, did the world's greatest assassins learn about the Scyths? Zaradi pointed out that the once-feared Scyths no longer existed as a people. At least that was what everyone thought, but they had thought the same thing about the House of Sinanju. Perhaps the Scyths still existed too.
Chiun allowed as how the use of the name was quite significant. He pointed out that the Scyths were ancient enemies of the Medes, the ambassador's forebears who came even before the Persians. Excited, Zarudi said, yes, this was true. And Chiun said that the very use of the name posed special dangers to the Peacock throne. But, along with the dangers, there was also a great advantage, because those who used the name Scyth did not know that the House of Sinanju now dominated the night in the name of Persia, waiting to deal death to the ambassador's enemies.
"You are going to attack?" asked Zarudi.
"No," said Remo. "We are going to use their strength as their weakness. The weaker you appear, the more fatal for the Scyths."
Chiun nodded with approval.
"Hail the House of Sinanju," said the ambassador.
Churn wanted even more information about the Scyths, preferably with "Mary Worth" on the back.
"A time of great danger and great opportunity," Chiun told the ambassador, winking at Remo. He carefully examined Remo's newspaper clippings. There were no more "Mary Worths."
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a grand launching.
The great United Nations ship moved out into New York Harbor bearing enough lights to power Iowa for a month.
There were enough newsmen from around the globe to staff The New York Times, the London Times and Pravda combined, although they all covered the launching from the dock, the United Nations having decided that the press of the world was scandal happy and not to be trusted. Henceforth all news of United Nations activities would come from a UN press officer, a fourteen-thousand-dollar-a-year African with a degree in Cultural Anthropological Artifacts, otherwise known as basket weaving.
The holds of the big ship carried enough food and luxury liquors to supply the great armies of Genghis Khan for two years in the field. The awesome atomic engines, deep in their sealed and cooled water beds, moved the great propeller screws with 120 times the power of the atomic weapon dropped on Hiroshima in World War II.
Ship of States moved like an immaculate white peninsula, slowly drifting from land out into the great Atlantic Ocean. Men were dots on this behemoth. It would take delegates a full year to explore the entire ship with its ballrooms, meeting rooms, consulates, tennis courts, and gymnasium/stadium with an Astro-turf floor and seating for five thousand. At full speed the great ship took a minimum of 12.27 miles to stop.
There was no feel of motion but passengers were told that sudden earthquakelike rumblings in the stem would really be the shock waves of the bow crushing waves before the boat. The UN ship did not cut through waves, but crushed them. A demonstration for delegates had likened it to a broom handle pushed down into a tall narrow tumbler. The water splashed up around the broom handle.
Ambassador Zarudi himself explained what he knew of this great ship as porters carried Chiun's fourteen lacquered trunks into the Iranian consul section. Zarudi asked what the Master of Sinanju thought of this marvel of the twentieth century.
"Drafty," said Chiun. The ambassador himself showed Chiun how to adjust the temperature control, which also provided the exact humidity desired.
"Stuffy," said Chiun.
Zarudi adjusted the panel again,
"Moist," said Chiun.
The ambassador went back to the panel.
"Dry," said Chiun.
Zarudi offered to let Chiun adjust the temperature and moisture to his own tastes.
"No," said Chiun. "Hardship for the glory and honor of the Peacock throne is not hardship but joy." Remo knew this was nonsense because the human body itself was the greatest furnace and the greatest air conditioner if one could use it right, and Chiun could. However, he said nothing because Chiun had explained that in working for an Emperor, the only person necessary to please was the Emperor himself. He had warned Remo about becoming too friendly with Ambassador Zarudi, which Remo had said was highly unlikely.
"Be polite but not friendly," Chrun warned.
Zarudi asked Chiun to examine the consulate for safety to see where any terrorist group might find a flaw in the protective devices.
He talked of electronic eyes and guards posted here and guards posted there and how a person could not unlock certain doors without certain codes.
"Did you build this?" asked Chiun after serenely gliding through staterooms, reception rooms, clerks' rooms, communications rooms, meeting rooms and bedrooms.
"No," said Zarudi. "This was built by the great shipping magnate, Demosthenes Skouratis. It is the greatest ship ever to float."
"And this Skouratis is loyal to the Emperor?"
"He did not build it for the Emperor but for the world."
"If someone sewed a suit for someone else, would you wear it, Persian?" asked Chiun.
"No. Of course not," said Zarudi who was known as one of the better-dressed men in the diplomatic corps.
"If you would not trust your appearance to something made for someone else, why then do you trust your life? You will tell His Excellency that the Master of Sinanju declares this consulate unsafe because it was not built by Persian hands. This I give as a gift. We are not bodyguards, but we know how they should think and work. You talked of flames in rooms and people disappearing who have cut off heads. This is not surprising, none of it. You should be grateful that these things happened early, sealing the greatest exposure in your armor—your false sense of security. For the greatest danger to any man is his illusion of safety."
"What should we do?" asked Zarudi.
"Build your own fortress."
"But we are part of a greater ship. We can't build our own ship."
"Then learn how to die in such a manner as not to bring shame to your emperor."
Zarudi's glacial composure shattered like an ice cube under a mallet. What had the Master of Sinanju been hired for? If Zarudi were killed, it would show weakness in the Peacock throne. How could a Master of Sinanju tell his employer to die well? Chiun was not hired, Zarudi said, to stand around and watch favorites of the Emperor die.
"The great sword does not make the world safe for fleas," said Chiun, and turned away from Zarudi. Remo shrugged. He didn't like this business. He didn't like Zarudi. He didn't like the ship. He didn't like the perfumed smell of the diplomats and he didn't like having servants around. He felt uncomfortable with them.
There were gifts from the Shah in their rooms: silver tea services, a jeweled cup, a large French-made television set inlaid with the symbols of the House of Sinanju in gold and silver, porcelain boxes, silk mats for sleeping, the choicest fruits and fowls and a young dark-eyed girl in a very stiff European suit. She had been educated in Paris and was their clerk-typist.
"We don't use that sort of stuff. Thanks anyhow," said Remo.
"I have much correspondence," said Chiun. "She will be used."
"Who do you write to?"
"Many people write to me," said Chiun, and it was time for silence because he was about to use the television set from the Shah for the first time.
"An emperor," said Chiun, "knows how to treat an assassin. In America, Smith was so ashamed he bade us work in secret. What disgrace. See now, Remo, the way that civilized people respect the House of Sinanju?"