"Let's just say that somebody told somebody who told me."
"Have it your way. It was the Congress for a Green Africa again. The Berets beat them back. Old Jack must be the luckiest reptile on earth. He came out without a scratch." Nancy folded her arms and dropped onto the sofa, her face clouding over. "I wish I could say the same." Her voice was a hair from cracking.
Remo's face grew concerned. "You okay?"
"I wasn't fired, but let's say I've been put in ice. Now I'm trying to figure out how to worm my way back into the board's good graces before Old Jack goes the way of his ancestors. He needs hour-by-hour monitoring, and there's no one on staff who's qualified."
"Why do I smell gunpowder?" Remo said suddenly.
Nancy looked up. "Do you?"
"Definitely. Burned gunpowder."
Nancy sniffed, frowning. "I don't smell anything."
Remo followed his nose around the room until he came to a small purse lying on a chair cushion. He picked it up.
"Be my guest," Nancy said tartly. "I enjoy having my personal belongings rummaged through by men I dimly know."
Her mouth parted in surprise when Remo's hand came up holding a spent rifle shell.
"What are you doing with this?" Remo asked.
"I forgot all about that," said Nancy, coming out of her chair to join him. "I picked it up during the attack on the hauler. It struck me as strange, but I wasn't sure why."
"It's a blank."
"How can you tell?"
"I used to fire blanks for practice when I was a Marine," Remo explained. "They pour the powder into the cartridge and crimp the open end shut. When the bullet is fired, the crimping is blown open just like this."
"My God! That explains why no one was hurt during all that shooting. They were firing blanks!"'
"Who were?"
Nancy stopped, blinking like a moth fluttering at a lightbulb. "Well, take your pick. Either the Congress for a Green Africa or the Burger Berets. What on earth is going on?"
"Let's check out the place where you were attacked."
Less than a hour later, Remo pulled a rented car over to the side of a piney wooded road south of Dover. They got out.
"I'm sure this is the spot," Nancy was saying. "It was dark, but I recognize that big boulder over there. Yes, here's where the hauler went off the road. See the tire gouges?"
"Look for spent shells," Remo said.
Nancy paced, her eyes on the ground. "I don't see any now, but the ground was littered with them before."
"They must have sent back a cleanup team."
"Who did?"
Remo bent and lifted a dirty brass shell casing from the furrows of tire tracks.
"Bingo!"
Nancy peered at it closely. "It looks just like the other one, except for the color. What does that prove?"
"The Berets were armed with American assault rifles, right?"
"True."
"Remember what the other guys had for weapons?" "The same vicious little machine pistols they had in Africa."
"Yeah. Firing short rounds. Nine millimeter. Like this one. Let's see your shell."
They compared shells. Nancy's was distinctly longer and made of steel, not brass. But it had the same burned, ragged end as the other.
"That's a .223 cartridge you got there," Remo pointed out. "That means both sides were firing blanks. Might explain why no one got hurt in Africa, too."
"Oh, that can't be!"
"Why not?"
"It just can't." Nancy's frowning face fell into slack lines. "One moment. There was something off about one of last night's terrorists."
"Never met a terrorist who was on," Remo said dryly.
"No, this one spoke black English. American style. I had the feeling he wasn't part of the African unit that hijacked the train."
"A terrorist is a terrorist-unless they're shooting blanks."
"What is going on here?" Nancy breathed in an incredulous voice.
"Simple. It's some kind of publicity stunt."
"Staged for whose benefit? There was no press."
"Search me. But we gotta get you back in the saddle."
"How?"
Remo made an unhappy face. "I hate to do this."
"Do what?"
"But I don't think there's any other way."
"I hope this isn't what I think it is," Nancy said, her tone matching Remo's.
Remo nodded grimly. "I gotta call Chiun back into this."
"Wonderful. But what good will he be?"
"Chiun just happens to be a close personal friend of Cheeta Ching."
"The TV anchor?"
"I'll bet a Brontosaur to an Apatosaur she jumps on your story like a Tyrannosaur on a Dimetrodon. Literally. "
Nancy smiled grimly. "I'll take that action."
It turned out to be easier than Remo had thought. Back at Nancy's apartment, he picked up the telephone to call the Master of Sinanju. Then his face went slack.
"What is it?" Nancy gasped.
"I just remembered. We don't have a phone."
"Oh, no."
"Maybe the guy who put me on to this can help."
"And who might that be?"
"Don't ask."
"I won't," Nancy said, lifting an arch eyebrow.
As Nancy watched, Remo blocked the phone with his body and touched a key. She didn't see which. But he held it down without dialing further.
A moment later, he was speaking in low tones. Nancy caught only cryptic snatches of the conversation.
"Think you can help?" Remo finished. He listened a few minutes and said, "Great."
He hung up grinning. "The new phone is supposed to be installed today. He's going to put an expedite on it. Could be hooked up within the hour."
"Whoever he is, he must have a lot of clout if he's plugged into Burger Triumph's grapevine and AT
Remo's grin turned tentative. "So, what do you want to do to kill time?"
"Care to hear some dinosaur stories?"
"Is there a second option?"
"Unfortunately, no."
Remo's face fell. He dropped into a chair and folded his arms defensively. "Okay, but be gentle. I don't want all my illusions shattered."
The phone rang as Remo was trying to grapple with the concept of dinosaurs being neither warm-blooded nor coldblooded, but capable of shunting between metabolic options.
"I liked the dinosaurs we had when I was a kid better than these new ones," Remo muttered unhappily. "You knew where you stood with them."
Laughing, Nancy put the receiver to her ear and said, "Hello?" then jerked the earpiece away as if it was hot.
"Chiun, right?" said Remo.
"He seems more than a little upset."
Remo accepted the handset and said, "What's up, Little Father?"
Out of the receiver came a horrendous squeak.
"Remo, Remo, a calamity has happened!"
"I know, but with your help, I think we can get Nancy reinstated."
Chiun's voice grew annoyed. "What are you babbling about?"
"Nancy got the old heave-ho. What are you talking about?"
"I am speaking of my terrible encounter while exploring the streets near my castle."
"Mugger?"
"Worse," Chiun spat. "I encountered a Vietnamese."
"Uh-oh."
"The neighborhood is rife with Vietnamese. I also saw a woman I took to be Chinese. Or possibly a Filipina. "
"But no Japanese, right?"
"I am afraid to find out. Oh, Remo this is impossible. I cannot dwell among lowly Vietnamese. What would my ancestors say?"
"Lock the castle door every night?"
Chiun grew so angry he hissed.
"Okay, okay, you're pissed. Smith got you again. Why don't you take it up with him? He gave you this number, right?"
"I was so beside myself. I did not know what to say. I have accepted his castle and signed his contract. I am bound by these things, Remo."
"So we move. I can live with that. But skip it for now. Listen, Nancy needs your help."
Chiun's voice grew cool. "The woman knows my price."