"Now!" she roared.
Hissing, the pack backed dutifully away.
On the ground, Bobby Bugget blinked. The near fatal assault proved to have an elucidating effect. For the first time in a long time, he almost felt sober. Under the circumstances, it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
Lying flat on his back, he gave Judith White a grateful nod. "This ain't the first time a woman's saved my life," he panted. "'Cept most of the others were whores or cocktail waitresses. Much obliged, ma'am."
When the woman who had been his salvation turned her cold cat's eyes to him, the singer shrank from her gaze.
"What press?" she demanded.
"What?" Bugget asked. "Oh. National and regional. TV and papers. They'll be pouring in here any minute to cover the protest. Oh, the protest..." His voice trailed off as he glanced around the parking lot.
Many of the Green Earth members were dead and dismembered. Those who hadn't been devoured immediately had been knocked unconscious for later. Bugget saw that the boxer, homemaker, actress and several others appeared to still be breathing. They had fared better than those who had scattered into the woods. Pitiful cries were being drowned out by growls and the sounds of feasting.
"We were gonna have a protest," Bobby Bugget offered weakly. "Kind of hard to do with only six people."
"Quiet, human," Judith snarled. "I'm trying to think."
Bugget didn't see the hand that struck him. He only knew that he was suddenly tumbling end over end into a nearby tree, a sharp pain in the side of his head.
As Bugget was shaking pine needles out of what was left of his graying blond hair, Judith White was spinning to her pack. Owen Grude was huddled with the rest.
"I told you not to kill anyone unless I said so."
"We thought there was danger," Owen said.
"You thought with your stomachs," she accused. "Think with your mind. Humans are the greatest hunters in the animal kingdom. They can obliterate entire species and send us scurrying into the trees. The only way they'll be beaten is by superior intellect." She looked around the lot. "Hide the dead around back. Cover the blood with sand. We need this mess cleaned up before the press arrives."
The males began carting bodies toward the plant. Judith stopped Owen Grude. "The ones left alive? Get them a drink of water." She pointed to Bugget. "Start with him."
Owen loped off across the lot and up the stairs. He returned a minute later carrying a Lubec Springs sport six-pack. A bottle was brought to Bobby Bugget, while others began pouring water into the mouths of the unconscious.
"Drink it," Judith White commanded.
Bugget licked his mustache nervously. "You don't have anything stronger?" he asked hopefully.
She moved in very close. Bugget could feel her warm breath on his damp mustache.
"Drink it," she demanded, "or I'll split you open and chew your innards from stomach to spine."
Bugget gulped. "If you put it that way." Gingerly he squeezed his nose between his fingers. It had been a long time since he'd drunk plain old water. He never cared for the taste. Tipping his head sharply, he slugged the contents of the bottle down in a few big gulps.
When the foul-tasting liquid reached his stomach, a strange sensation seemed to come over him. The excruciating pain was more than he could bear. Dropping back to the ground, Bugget clutched his belly.
He was writhing in agony on the pavement as Judith White turned from him.
"I'll be inside," she said.
She prowled a few paces toward the building before stopping. She pointed at one of the bodies that was awaiting disposal.
"Bring that one inside," she commanded. "I think better on a full stomach."
Wheeling, she headed back for the bottling plant.
Chapter 14
Dusk was creeping slowly in by the time Remo and Chiun arrived at Folcroft.
Long Island Sound was visible through the trees, slivered with shimmering streaks of twilight, as the cab steered between the great granite columns with their attendant stone lions. At Remo's instruction, the driver brought them to the sanitarium's main staircase.
"Why are we entering this way?" the Master of Sinanju asked suspiciously. Behind them the yellow taxi was making its crunching way back down the great gravel drive.
"Stairs are stairs," Remo said as they headed up.
"Yes," Chiun replied, padding up beside his pupil. "And the stairs that are the stairs we always use are on the other side of the building."
"I thought you liked front doors."
Remo held the door for his teacher. Chiun swept inside. As he walked, the old Korean stroked his thread of beard thoughtfully.
"I notice that this route avoids passing the Prince Regent's office," he commented.
"I know, Chiun," Remo sighed. "And before you start on me, too, I admit it. I think the kid's okay. He was pretty stand-up for us in Sinanju when he didn't have to be. Smitty is doing a good jab bringing him onto the team. He's working out. There, I said it. Happy?"
In the lobby Remo's raised voice caught the attention of a receptionist and two nurses. The receptionist recognized Chiun as a former patient who occasionally stopped back at Folcroft to visit. She thought Remo to be his nurse. Her frown of disapproval at Remo's raised voice was interrupted by a ringing telephone. She was answering the phone as the two men slipped by.
"I am pleased to hear that," the Master of Sinanju said. "Since one day you will be the Regent's royal assassin."
"Can't happen, Chiun," Remo said, shaking his head firmly. "I'm not getting too chummy with the kid because Sinanju rules forbid me from working for Smith's successor."
"Do not be so certain, white man," Chiun said knowingly.
"And here we go," Remo said. "Back to that famous loophole you claim you discovered ages ago and refuse to tell me about."
Chiun smiled slyly. "Are you not the least bit curious?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, the way you manage to contort supposedly unbendable rules into pretzel shapes always fascinates me. But just 'cause I like to watch the magician saw the woman in half doesn't mean I'll be running to the nearest Tupperware party with a chain saw. Rules are rules."
"They are not always as inviolate as you seem to think," Chiun replied. "Take your Smith, for instance. You agree that everyone finds him mad?"
"I don't agree with that."
"As I said," Chiun sniffed. "No one of consequence disputes his madness. And yet we have served him well lo these many years. Your House has not always had such tolerance for crazed emperors."
Remo's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means that rules are only sometimes rules. Other times they are guidelines. It is for the wise to know the difference. Thankfully, you have me here to point the way."
He swept ahead of his pupil, through a set of fire doors and into Folcroft's administration wing. Watching his teacher's purposeful stride, Remo smiled. "Amen to that, Little Father," he said, shaking his head.
Allowing the fire door to slip from his fingers, he trailed the wizened Korean up the hall.
SMITH ALWAYS KEPT a change of clothes at work just in case. He had been more than eager to slip out of his golf clothes and back into his more familiar uniform
Back in his three-piece gray suit and starched white shirt-green-striped school tie knotted tightly at the collar -he was hard at work in his familiar Folcroft environs. Day had bled into night, and still Harold W. Smith remained at his desk.
The CURE director had scarcely noted the change of hour or scattering of daylight. He was far too busy monitoring the events taking place along the East Coast.
There had been many more incidents throughout the afternoon. And the tristate area was no longer alone. There had been like occurrences in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. To Smith, the pattern indicated a product being shipped by ground. He had already come to this conclusion even before Remo had phoned back to suggest Lubec Springs bottled water was the source of contamination.