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  "The majors," said Remo, guiding them a bit faster. Smith's outer door was closed. The secretary who guarded that door typed efficiently while looking at a sheaf of papers. Like many secretaries she actually ran the entire organization. This left Smith to run CURE. She of course did not know about his other business. Dr. Smith to her was just another executive who dealt with higher matters.

  Smith could be dead behind those doors, and she would not know it until they eventually broke through the doors. Then they would find the body. By then all the computer information about crime in America would have been dispersed to different enforcement agencies, and the organization would no longer exist. There would be no more files, no more access to them, no more service.

  "I've come to see Dr. Smith," said Remo.

  "Dr. Smith only sees people by appointment."

  "I have one."

  "That's impossible. He doesn't have an appointment this month."

  "He forgot. Ask him. He does," said Remo.

  The secretary looked at the three men, one nursing a broken arm. She looked at Chiun, imperiously satisfied with himself. She looked at Remo in a pair of slacks and a T-shirt.

  "Well, all right," she said. She buzzed inside. Remo waited. There was no answer. She buzzed again. Remo would give it ten more minutes. If Smith did not answer by then, he would just leave, maybe finish out this last assignment, but just walk away and leave Smith to be found the way he had planned.

  "I'm sorry, he's not answering," said the secretary.

  "I guess not," said Remo, and silently said good-bye to a good commander and a patriot.

  He nodded the three men back toward the hallway. Then the door to Smith's office opened. The lemony face peered out.

  "Come on in. Why were you waiting?" said Smith.

  "Your secretary buzzed you," said Remo. "You didn't answer."

  "I wasn't buzzed," said Smith.

  "I did, Dr. Smith. Three times. You know, I think it didn't work. I've never had to buzz you before."

  "We'll have to get it fixed."

  "The last time I used it was twelve years ago when your wife Maude was here."

  "Come on in, Remo, Chiun," said Smith.

  "I'll be with you in a minute. I want to talk to these people. Do you have any empty rooms?" asked Remo.

  "We have padded rooms," said Smith. "Take the patients there. See what they want. Then I am sure we can transfer them elsewhere."

  "Oh Emperor Smith, our hearts ring in gratitude that we have come in time to save your glory that it may go down in ages henceforth," said Chiun.

  The secretary looked to Dr. Smith. "Outpatient," said Smith, and shut the door.

  In the padded cell Remo found out more about the man who considered himself a king. His name was Harrison Caldwell. He had an estate in New Jersey. And he held shoot-outs, knife-outs, and combat drills in an effort to find the best man to be his "sword," his "champion."

  "Whydya do it?" asked Remo.

  "Why?" The man with the scar laughed. So did the others. "Do you know what he pays? He gives out gold bars like they're trinkets. The champion gets a chest of gold every month. He's the richest man in the world. Gold everywhere."

  Chiun heard this and covered his breast with his frail parchmentlike hand.

  "And pray tell, just where exactly does his Majesty live?" asked Chiun.

  "We're not going, little father," said Remo.

  "A king who pays in gold. An assassin waits for years to find the proper king and you just dismiss him. Talk to him. At least talk to him. Speak to the man. Do not be so rash."

  "I've got work here."

  "For the lunatic."

  "Hey, what's going on?" asked the man with the scar. As Remo and Chiun left, Chiun was still pleading. Just speak once to the man. Just once. That was all Chiun asked. If, after talking to the king, Remo said no, then no it would be. After all, it was not like leaving America. New Jersey was part of America even if America wasn't all that happy about it.

  Remo locked the door of the padded cell behind him. Several large orderlies appeared in the hallway. "Dr. Smith said there are three criminally insane here. That the room?"

  Remo nodded.

  "You're lucky you got out of there alive. Those guys are going to be separated from the world for life," said the orderly.

  "I'm a doctor. I know how to handle these things."

  "Dr. Smith said they killed the last two doctors who tried to treat them."

  "But not us,'' said Remo.

  The orderlies unfolded three straitjackets and entered the padded room.

  "All I ask is a single introduction, a mere hello. Just to speak to this king," said Chiun.

  "No," said Remo.

  "Then there is nothing I can do with you, Remo. I have saved you once and saved you again, all without thanks. I cannot take this anymore. I must go where I am respected. Good-bye."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To the king who knows the value of an assassin. If he pays such dolts as the ones we have locked up, can you imagine the gold he will shower on Sinanju?"

  "What are you going to do with all that gold?"

  "Replace that which was stolen, restock that which you would not help me recover. That is what I will do for a start."

  By the time Remo got to Smith's office, Chiun was long gone. Remo was feeling somewhat angry, definitely disturbed, and not too sure of what he wanted to do.

  He was glad Smith was alive, even if he talked incessantly about the incredible compromise of all the bodies strewn from coast to coast and his plan to move the organization from Folcroft to a large bank in midtown Manhattan. Suddenly Smith's tribulations seemed like small talk to Remo.

  "Who were those men?" asked Smith.

  "There is a lunatic who thinks he is a king, named Harrison Caldwell. Lives on an estate in New Jersey. Has people fighting to the death to win a position from him."

  "Caldwell. The name has come up. Why does he want us?"

  "I don't know."

  Smith punched the name and a code into his computer terminal. Caldwell, Harrison, indeed had a record in the organization's files. Somehow, quite suspiciously, this man had amassed an incredible fortune-enough of a fortune to build his own little country within a country. He also got rich much too quickly-even for a gold digger. CURE kept track of these quick fortunes.

  "He's a bullionist," added Smith.

  "I think he's making gold. I think he's the one. It's done with uranium."

  "Then he's the one who's stealing it," said Smith.

  "Exactly," said Remo.

  "And guess who has just been appointed chairman of the Nuclear Control Agency."

  "The fox in charge of the henhouse," said Remo. "Well, I think that explains why he could conduct such an incredibly complex campaign to track us down. He has the money to do it."

  "Remo, I think it would be good if you took care of this matter, now."

  "Okay," said Remo, but there was hesitation in his voice.

  "Anything wrong?"

  "No," said Remo, who was wondering how he would take on Chiun. He had never begged Chiun before and he wasn't sure begging would work now.

  Chapter 13

  In the court of Harrison Caldwell Chiun found true and perfect happiness. The man accepted the Oriental's laudations and tributes of voice. And he responded with gold, promising to ship, or to lay it before Chiun in a vast pile.

  There were, of course, a few amateur assassins to be proven imcompetent, but that was no trouble. The breath of lotus blows took care of them and the lotus variation, always a favorite with Westerners who liked to see hands move, pleased the king greatly.

  But this king said he had known of Chiun, if not by name then by deed. For did he not have a white partner recently? Chiun answered, indeed he did, and that to work for a wise king like Harrison Caldwell meant a long life.

  For this king was the very man whose face had appeared on television, calling for an end to random violence. And Chiun had
always believed this was just the sort of man who would appreciate a great assassin.

  The king even supplied an elegant little chair for Chiun. And all of this-the gold, the chair, the honor-came before Chiun even had a chance to look around. But who had to look around? One knew royalty when one saw it.

  And then Remo came, rudely came. He barged right into the throne chamber, pushing aside guards.

  "We see your partner has come," said His Majesty Harrison Caldwell.

  "We will both serve you," said Chiun. "Two are better than one."

  "I will not," said Remo. He hadn't even bowed to His Majesty. He stood there in his slacks and T-shirt, his hands on his hips, uncouth beyond reason, an embarrassment to the House of Sinanju.

  Chiun rose quickly from his special stool. He pushed his way through several courtiers and got Remo into a corner.

  "Are you mad?" he hissed. "This is a king, a real king, with real gold, and real tribute. He even has a chair for his assassin. Keep your peace. Let us enjoy decent work for once. See how it is to be well-treated."

  "Have you looked around?"

  "I see all I need to see."

  "Have you looked at his standards?"

  "We are here to defend them, not gaze upon them."

  "Ask him for your gold now."

  "I wouldn't insult him."

  "You always said that getting the money in advance was the sign of a true assassin. Let's see his gold." Chiun turned to Caldwell, who had motioned everyone else aside so he could watch the two. With a great bow, Chiun said he had been arguing with his assistant.

  "Not knowing great kings, your Majesty, my friend foolishly doubted thy awesome grandeur. Would you show him how foolish he is by showing him the tribute that I know abounds here?"

  "It will be our pleasure," said Harrison Caldwell. With that, he ordered up his special family engraved bullion, in special two-hundred-pound bars, the crest emblazoned in the center of each.

  Then he sat back triumphantly even as Remo stared angrily at him. He asked the younger man why he showed such anger to a king who only wished to please.

  "Because my teacher, whom I respect and love, has made a beginner's mistake, one he knows not to make," said Remo.

  "And what is that?" asked Caldwell. He felt truly safe now. He could enjoy his throne and expand its boundaries, and no one would ever stop him again. Nor would he have to resort to poisonings or even lying. He would merely have to dispatch his two assassins, men trained to appreciate true royalty. The younger, of course, would take a while to learn. But the gold would be a good teacher.

  "When one's emotions are too strong, one does not see things he should. My father will see everything very soon."

  The blare of horns announced the arrival of the gold, but Remo didn't need to hear them. He could feel it as it passed through the doors, stacked bar upon bar, gold pyramids on trolleys. He was sure Chiun would also.

  But Chiun just stood his ground, a respectful distance from the throne. Finally Remo said:

  "Look at the markings, little father, not at your hopes for our wealth. Look at what is here."

  Chiun glanced imperiously at Remo and then with smooth gliding steps moved to the gold. He glanced at the glittering stack, then turned to thank the king. But when he looked again, when he saw the markings on the gold, he stopped. It was then that he began to be aware of the room. He looked around at the standards hanging from the wall.

  He had seen it. The apothecary jar on the center of the crest.

  "Is this your family crest?" asked Chiun.

  "For centuries," said Caldwell.

  "So you thought you were safe to try it again," said Chiun.

  Caldwell could not believe what he saw. The usually extremely polite Oriental did not even bow as he approached the throne.

  "You there, where are your manners?" said Caldwell. He was not going to lose control of the man now. Chiun did not answer.

  "Stop," ordered Caldwell. Chiun did not stop.

  Nor did Chiun kiss the hand of King Caldwell. He slapped him across the face. Not even as a boy had Harrison Caldwell felt the insult of a slap across the face. And then there was another.

  "Adulterer. See now, world, what happens to him who adulterates an assassin's tribute," announced Chiun.

  And Caldwell felt himself yanked from the throne and beaten around the room like a dog who has fouled the wrong place. The courtiers fled in panic. Chiun brought Caldwell to the cursed gold, placed his head on it, and sent head and soul to the place of the man's cheating ancestors.

  "They never learn," said Chiun.

  "I think he knows now," said Remo.

  Before they left, they released the prisoners who were shackled in the dungeon. Some of them were losers in the combats Caldwell had staged. One of them was a woman. Consuelo Bonner.

  She was surprised to see Remo up and about, and guessed that Chiun saved him.

  "Again," said the Master of Sinanju wearily.

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