"Afraid not," said Remo.
"Yes," came Chiun's squeaky voice.
"What is it?" Smith asked.
Chiun's voice came thinly. "The Seaworthy Gargantuan."
"Thank you," Smith said as he began inputting the name. Remo passed along Smith's thanks. Chiun's huffy reply was inaudible.
Smith read the file aloud when it came up. "The Seaworthy Gargantuan is owned by the Mammoth Oil and Shale Recovery Corporation of McAllen, Texas. They're big. Or they were before the Texas oil collapse. Hmmmm. What is this?" he muttered. A flag light was blinking. Smith hit a key.
Up came a file on a ship registered to the same firm, the Seawise Behemoth.
"Listen to this, Remo," Smith said excitedly. "The Seaworthy Gargantuan is a sister ship to the tanker that was seized by the Iranians over a week ago, the Seawise Behemoth. According to my sources, the Iranians claim it was on some kind of espionage mission and they are holding it until they get reparations. We assumed it was another of their strange political games, but I'm beginning to see a pattern, aren't you? Remo? Remo?"
"What?" Remo said. "Sorry, Smith. I was looking at this wall map."
"Please pay attention. This is important."
"So is this. You ever hear of the Pershing Gulf?"
"Persian. Look closer."
"I am and I see the Pershing Gulf. And next to it the Kingdom of Sluggard. Where Iraq should be is Victorialand. And I think Eldon Island is what normal people call Kharg Island, where the Iranians ship out a lot of their oil."
"My God. Then it's true."
"It's crazy, is what it is," Remo muttered, "I see a lot of red arrows and lines on the coast. They look like lines of attack. This circle must be a beachhead. Could be where they expect to land. It's just up from the Strait of Griselda. Who the hell is Griselda, I wonder?"
"Obviously that is the Strait of Hormuz. I think the best course of action is for you and Chiun to be there to meet them on the beach."
"Why bother?" Remo asked. "The way I see it, we don't have a downside. If the Iranians wipe out Sluggard, all the better. If it goes the other way, I'm not going to cry over a few less Revolutionary Guards."
"Have you forgotten the terrorist attacks that came in the wake of Sluggard's first move-for obviously that is what has triggered this entire crisis. Another attack means more terror for us. And Sluggard's actions are in violation of the Neutrality Act forbidding U.S. citizens from making war on a foreign power. His Crusaders are innocent dupes. Your job, Remo is to prevent Sluggard from attacking Iran and to neutralize his army. Failing that, you are to eliminate Sluggard and somehow convince the Iranians that he is not acting on behalf of the United States, either officially or unofficially."
"Convincing the Iranians will have to be Chiun's department," Remo said reluctantly. "All right, we're on. Got any idea how you're going to get us there?"
"Er, no," Smith admitted hesitantly. "Actually, this could be difficult."
"Well, at least Chiun will be happy. He's getting what he wants."
"And what is that?" Chiun asked distantly.
"Smith says we're going to Iran."
"Persia! Ah, I can taste the tender melons now."
"And I can smell the blood," Remo said. "Any ideas about how to get us there?" he asked Chiun. "Smith says he's stumped."
"Why, it is simple. As Masters of Sinanju, we will use our diplomatic impunity."
Smith, hearing Chiun's words, protested, "But I can't arrange diplomatic immunity for you and Chiun. We're in a state of low-intensity war with Iran."
"Chiun didn't say 'immunity.' He said 'impunity.' "
"What does that mean?" Smith asked.
"It means," Remo returned, "that I wouldn't want to be the Iranian who tries to get in Chiun's way."
Chapter 22
The supertanker Seaworthy Gargantuan plowed the waves under a full moon.
Reverend-General Eldon Sluggard paced the afterdeck. "Where is that bitch?" he raged.
Finally Victoria Hoar came down the deck, her high heels clicking. Her long hair danced behind her like a horse's tail.
"Ah been askin' for you," he said. "Ah been tryin' to talk sense to the captain, but he won't turn this scow around."
"Not possible," Victoria Hoar said simply. "We're on course for Iran."
"Ah-ran!" Reverend-General Sluggard screeched. "Ah ain't goin' to raghead land."
"Yes, you are. It's your job to keep up the morale of your Cross Crusaders."
"Who's Reverend-General around here anyway?"
"You. But this ship is sailing under my orders."
"It is? I thought you said your daddy ran this oil company. Well, Ah want to talk with him."
"You'd need a Ouija board. He died. Heart attack. When they plugged up the best well he ever drilled down in Hidalgo County, Texas, it killed him. I run the company now. "
"Ah smell a setup. You had this tub waiting all along."
"I didn't expect to move this soon, but here we are."
"Ah can't go to Ah-ran. You know what they'll do to me if Ah'm taken prisoner."
"Don't get taken prisoner," Victoria Hoar said.
Reverend-General Eldon Sluggard turned red. "You been playin' me right along, ain't you? Like an old fiddle. "
"More like a saxophone. And you hit every note. Now, let me suggest you start practicing for when you hit the beach."
"When mah Cross Crusaders hit the beach, you mean."
"When they hit the beach under your charge. I didn't want to tell you before this, but remember when I said I'd figured out what had gone wrong the first time? That last Crusade didn't have a truly inspiring leader. This time, it will. You."
"No damn way."
"I'd put that silver-tongued voice of yours to work," Victoria Hoar went on, indifferent to Reverend-General Sluggard's rantings. "Because you're going to be the first to hit the beach, like it or not. And you'd better have a well-motivated force backing you up, or you're going to be out there all alone."
The thought settled onto Reverend-General Sluggard's beefy face.
"If Ah could swim . . ." he said gratingly.
"But you can't," returned Victoria Hoar, turning on her heel and stalking off.
"Bitch," called Reverend-General Eldon Sluggard. And this time he did not say it under his breath.
A mocking laugh floated back to him.
Chapter 23
General Adnan Mefki entered the Grand Ayatollah's private garden, his face set.
The Grand Ayatollah looked up from his raisin-sweetened tea and signed for the general to speak. The soft winds coming down off the Elburz Mountains sent the baskets of red roses rippling, filling the air with their perfumy sweetness.
"I have word that a delegation from the House of Sinanju desires an audience with your holiness."
"I know of no such place," the Grand Ayatollah said distantly.
"Sinanju is a village in North Korea, Imam, the seat of a powerful sect of assassins. They serviced the former shahs and before them, the caliphs of old Persia. I have known of this house all my life. Many believed them extinct."
"I will not treat with any emissary who consorted with the infidel shahs. Do not allow them to enter this country. "
"I am afraid it is too late. They are in Tehran. I do not know how. The ways of Sinanju are most mysterious. But they have sent word that they will be here within the hour and they expect an audience."
"And who are they to make demands of us?" asked the Grand Ayatollah.
The general paused, his expression dumbfounded. Although no Master of Sinanju had set foot in Iran in generations, some years ago the latest Master of Sinanju had done a kindness for the last shah. Sinanju could not be denied.