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  "Yes, sir."

  "Everything looks all right here, Donald. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

  "Yes, sir."

  Moorcock took one last glance around and then went upstairs to prepare for evening services.

  Donald Wagner didn't like the idea of having to meet with Danny the Man. He didn't like blacks, and in fact it made him very nervous to work in the ghetto. Of course, he'd never let Moorcock know that. He hid his fear through viciousness— and through killing. Killing for the sake of killing made him feel like a man. He wouldn't have minded meeting Danny the Man to kill him, but to talk business with him— that was another matter.

  Still, he worked for Moorcock, and everything the "minister" had done up to this point had been successful. The man was strange and probably more than a little crazy, but there was no doubt that he was a genius.

  If Lorenzo Moorcock wanted him to meet with Danny the Man, that's what he would do.

  After all, what harm could it do?

  * * *

  When the phone rang, Danny the Man cursed aloud. The young lady beneath him was just lifting her hips in anticipation when he withdrew, rolled over, and answered the phone.

  "This better be real good," he said.

  "Is this Danny the Man?"

  "Yeah. Who's this?"

  "I'm calling to arrange a meeting."

  "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

  "I'm sure you do. This is a meeting that you've been asking for."

  He should have known. If it wasn't that white bastard himself— with his usual timing— it would be his business that the call was about.

  "All right," Danny said. "When?"

  "Tomorrow evening, after dark. Let's make it nine o'clock," the man's voice said.

  "Are you white?" Danny asked.

  "What?" the man asked, puzzled.

  "You sound white. Are you?"

  "Of course I am. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

  "I was just wondering if you wouldn't feel at a disadvantage meeting a black man after dark."

  He got great satisfaction from the flustered sound of the man's voice as he recited where the meeting would be. Since Danny had no intention of being there, he readily agreed to the meeting place.

  "Anything else?" he asked then.

  "No," the man's voice said petulantly, "there's nothing else. Just be there."

  "I will if you will," Danny said. For a moment he thought the man would answer, but then the line went dead.

  The girl on the bed said, "Jesus Christ, Danny, I was almost there."

  Her hands reached out for him, and he crawled back on top of her, saying, "The least you could have done for me, bitch, was keep your finger in my place."

  In Mexico City three Iranian diplomats were meeting with three Mexican officials who would be flying to the United States the following morning.

  Rafael Cintron was the leader of the Mexicans, the one who had recruited the other two, Antonio Jiminez and Pablo Santoro.

  "This will be the largest shipment we have ever carried, Rafael," Jiminez said. "Should we not take more precautions?"

  "What would you suggest we do, my friend?" Cintron asked. "Take an armed guard? No, our methods work so well because they are simple. Just three Mexican officials carrying their diplomatic pouches. That is what makes the plan so beautiful."

  "Si, I know that—"

  "Well, if you know that, then stop worrying."

  There was a knock on the hotel-room door, signaling the arrival of the merchandise.

  "Answer the door, Pablo."

  Santoro opened the door, and the three Iranian diplomats entered, one of them carrying a black attaché case. They all knew what was in the case.

  Heroin with a street value of over three million dollars.

  The Iranians stayed only long enough for the merchandise to change hands. Names were not even exchanged. The mere fact that they were all in that one place at the same time meant that it was right.

  The handoff was made, and the H was on its way to the United States of America— or, to be more specific, the city of Detroit.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The following morning Remo was gone by the time the call came in from Danny the Man.

  "Are you his friend?" Danny asked when Chiun explained that Remo wasn't there.

  "I am his… companion," Chiun said.

  "Well, tell him that the meeting has been set up, like he asked me. I'll give you the place. Get something to write it down with."

  "You may proceed," Chiun said.

  Danny the Man recited the address, then added, "Your pal better wear some blackface if he hopes to pass as a black man, even after dark. "They're expecting me, so if they see a white face, they might start shooting first."

  "I will tell him. I'm sure he will be touched by your concern."

  "And tell him that if he needs any more favors, he should try somebody else for a change. I'd like at least one night of uninterrupted pleasure."

  "I will tell him."

  "Hey, you white? You don't talk like no white man."

  Chiun hung up the phone and said, "Perish the thought."

  Remo was standing across the street from the Church of Modern-day Beliefs, in a doorway from which he couldn't be seen. He was expecting Moorcock to leave the building fairly soon in order to meet the incoming Mexican delegation, but was surprised when a long black limo pulled up in front of the church and three men who were obviously Mexican stepped out. One of them, carrying a dark attaché case, said something to the driver, who then left. The three men entered the church.

  "Welcome, my friends," Lorenzo Moorcock said. "I'm glad to see you again."

  "Señor Moorcock," Rafael Cintron said, accepting the minister's outstretched hand. The Mexicans not only accepted Moorcock as their business partner, but as a minister as well. "We are honored to be in your house of worship."

  Cintron realized that Moorcock's religion forbade the mention of God, and while it puzzled him, he respected it as he was a deeply religious man himself. No matter how odd another man's beliefs were, they were to be respected.

  "We can go downstairs, where I will serve you refreshments, and then we can get on about our business."

  "Gracias."

  As Moorcock led the Mexicans to the basement steps, they noticed two men descending from steps above. Moorcock saw their interest and said, "Just two of my flock. Please, gentlemen, be my guests downstairs."

  "Gracias," Cintron said again, and down they went.

  One of the two men leaving the church by the rear door was Jim Burger, who was acting on orders from Donald Wagner. He was to escort the second man to a nice, quiet place… and then kill him.

  The second "man" was Walter Sterling.

  From across the street, Remo could watch not only the front entrance but the side as well. Now as he watched, he saw two people leave that way. The first he didn't recognize, but the second he did. It was the Sterling kid. He watched as the first man led Walter Sterling to a car. When the kid saw three other men in the car, he balked, but they forced him into the car, and then it drove away.

  Remo broke from his doorway and ran across the street. He was in time to use his ultra-keen hearing to listen to what was being said in the car.

  "Where to?" one man said.

  "The junkyard," another man said. "The big one on Maple."

  As the car drove away, Remo knew he had a choice to make. He could stay and watch the church, waiting for Moorcock or his guests to come out, or he could go after the men in the car and save Walter Sterling's life.

  Knowing that Chiun would never forgive him if the Sterling kid got killed, he decided to go after the car. If the Mexicans had come to the church to meet Moorcock, then it was almost a certainty that Moorcock would not leave the church when his guests did.

  Remo started after the car, and although he knew he could catch it, even on foot, he decided against it. Instead, he used his superior speed to arrive at
the Maple junkyard ahead of them.

  When he arrived, he saw that there were already three men there. He didn't know if they simply worked there or if they were part of the drug gang, so he left them alone for the moment. He vaulted the fence and waited among the countless car wrecks for the opportunity to save one of Chiun's children.

  The car arrived about ten minutes after Remo had. The four men who were in it accompanied Walter Sterling into the Detroit Auto Cemetery.

  "What are we supposed to do with him?" one of the three men who worked in the junkyard asked.

  "We have to find him a nice resting place," Burger replied. "The boss's orders."

  "I don't understand," Sterling said. "Did you men kill my father? We were doing our part."

  "We're just removing you, sonny, before you can do more than your part," Burger said.

  The three junkyard employees remained at the entrance to see that the others wouldn't be disturbed.

  "Take him in the back," one of them said. "There's a nice Rolls-Royce there almost still in one piece."

  The four men walked toward the rear of the yard with the Sterling boy between them, still blubbering about how he didn't understand why they were doing this.

  "Boss's orders, boy," Burger finally said. "Nothing personal."

  "Donald?" the boy asked. "Did he tell you to kill me?"

  "I'm talking about the big boss, sonny. Now keep quiet and try to die like a man."

  "Oh, Jesus—" Sterling shouted, but his cry was cut off as a small Volkswagen suddenly flew off the top of a pile of cars and headed right for the group.

  "Look out!" Burger screamed, and the five of them scattered. The Volkswagen landed squarely in the center of the space they had previously occupied.

  "What the hell was that?" one of the other men yelled.

  "Somebody threw a car at us," another man said.

  "That ain't possible," Burger shouted at them. "Don't go crazy. A car just fell from the top, that's all. Where's the boy?"

  "The boy—" the others said, and they all started looking around them, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

  "Dammit!" Burger shouted. "Find him."

  As they gathered into a group again, another car came flying at them, this time a Pinto.

  "Christ, look out!"

  "Now tell me somebody ain't throwing cars at us," one of the men told Burger.

  "This is crazy—" Burger started to say, but he shut his mouth as he dodged a Plymouth Duster.

  "Christ almighty, they're getting bigger!" he shouted.

  "I'm getting out of here before a fuckin' Caddy comes flying at us!" one of the others yelled.

  "Wait, what about the kid?" Burger said.

  "As far as I'm concerned," the other man said, "he's dead. Right, men?"

  The others all agreed. Burger was about to argue, but when a Buick Electra came flying toward them, he simply nodded and followed the other men.

  As the four men ran out the front way, one of the others yelled, "Did you do it?"

  "It's done, it's done!" they shouted back, and kept on going.

  "What's the matter with them?" one of the three said. "They act like something tried to bite them.

  Remo dropped Walter Sterling over the rear fence of the yard and then joined him.

  "How'd you get rid of them?" Sterling asked. "I couldn't see anything after you put me in that car and told me to keep my head down."

  "I just scared them a little, that's all, Walter. Come on, let's get going."

  "Where?"

  "We're going to my hotel. There's someone there I think you'll enjoy meeting."

  "Wait—"

  "What is it?"

  "The minister said you wanted to kill me."

  "Well, he was wrong," Remo said, "as you can see. If I wanted you dead, boy, you'd be dead."

  "I— I guess so."

  "Come on. We'll talk at the hotel."

  For the benefit of the boy, Remo hailed a cab and had it take them back to the hotel. As they entered the hotel room, Walter Sterling stared at Chiun and asked, "Who's that?"

  "That's Chiun," Remo said. "He's my—"

  "—companion," Chiun finished.

  "He's also the main reason you're alive," Remo said. "Chiun, this is Walter Sterling."

  "We are sorry about your father, child," Chiun said.

  "I still don't understand what's going on," the boy said shakily.

  "Well, let us tell you what we know," Remo said, "and then you can fill us in if you're satisfied."

  "A-all right," the boy said, sitting on the couch.

  "Now, we've figured out that you're selling drugs and that there are other kids out there doing the same… like Billy Martin."

  Sterling didn't reply.

  "The Martins had a large stash of cash, and so do you," Remo said, and that startled the boy.

  "How did—"

  "I found it. Don't worry, I left it where it was."

  "That's for my mother, now that my father's gone."

  "Your father— now, that puzzles me. Did he know that you were selling drugs?"

  "Yeah, he did," the kid said. Then he gave Remo and Chiun a defiant look and said, "We were just trying to make some extra money, that's all."

  "What was your father's part?"

  "He used his position at the plant to ship the drugs to other cities."

  "So that's it," Remo said. "That's why kids whose fathers work at the plant were recruited. You, Martin… Were there others?"

  "I don't know. We were never really told more than we needed to know."

  "That is wise," Chiun said.

  "Hell, that means you don't know anything beyond your own personal duties."

  "That's right."

  "Well, if I knew that, I would have saved one of those guys at the yard for questioning."

  "As usual, you were sloppy," Chiun said, "but lucky for you your friend called."

  "Danny the Man?"

  "Yes. He said that your meeting has been set up," Chiun said, and then proceeded to recite the location.

  "Do you know where that is?" Remo asked Sterling.

  "Yes."

  "Good, you can give me directions."

  "Who are you meeting?" Sterling asked.

  "Damned if I know," Remo said. "Who's in charge of this operation as far as you know?"

  "A man named Donald Wagner always gave me my instructions," Walter Sterling said. "As far as I know, he's the boss."

  "Not from what the men in the junk yard said," Remo recalled. "One of them told you that it was the 'big boss' who wanted you out of the way."

  "I don't know who that is."

  "I don't, either— at least, not for sure," Remo said, "but hopefully I'll be meeting someone tonight who will know."

  "Maybe he won't tell you."

  "Yes," Chiun said, "he will tell. He will have no choice."

  "Have you been hiding at the church all this time?" Remo asked.

  "Yes. The minister has been taking care of me."

  "What do you know about him?"

  The boy shrugged and said, "Just that he's a minister of some new religion. I don't exactly believe what he preaches, but he was helping me."

  "Out of the goodness of his heart," Remo said.

  "I suppose. What are you going to do now?"

  "We'll wait," Remo said. "You give me the directions to my meeting, and then we'll wait until dark. You'll stay here with Chiun—"

  "I'll go with you. I can show you how to get there better than I can tell you."

  "I will go also," Chiun said. "I think this whole business is about to come to an end, and I intend to be there when it does."

  "All right," Remo said.

  "Besides," Chiun said, "I have to make sure that this child remains alive. He is my responsibility now."

  "Whatever you say, Chiun. He's all yours."

  Donald Wagner was gearing up for what he thought was a meeting with Danny the Man Lincoln. He inserted a .38 into his shoulder holster and t
hen turned to face the five men he was taking with him.

  "You're all armed?" he asked.

  The men nodded. These were experienced men in their late twenties or early thirties. Wagner was not taking any chances by bringing kids along to back him up. Who knew what that nigger was planning for him?

  "All right, we've picked an empty warehouse for this meeting, and you five will get there first. I want you all to be so well hidden on the catwalk that even I can't find you. But if something breaks, I want to see your ugly faces in a split second. Don't make me wonder where you are."

  All five men nodded. He knew he could count on them because, unlike the majority of people involved in Moorcock's operation, they were pros.

  He would feel better having them with him. What could go wrong with that many men to back him up?

  Lorenzo Moorcock showed his Mexican guests out to the street, where their limousine was waiting to take them to their hotel. They would stay there for three days, during which time they would tour some of the automotive factories, and then they'd return to Mexico City. He wouldn't see them— or others like them— until the next shipment was due.

  Reentering the church, Moorcock was excited. This was the largest and finest-quality shipment they'd ever had. He could cut it countless times, doubling or even tripling its normal worth.

  As he approached the door to the basement, it opened, and Donald Wagner stepped out, followed by five other men.

  "Time for the meeting?" Moorcock asked.

  "Yes."

  "It should be interesting," the minister said, "but don't take too long. We have to discuss how to dispose of those two meddlers."

  "We'll be back soon," Wagner said, with more confidence than he was feeling.

  "Be careful," Moorcock warned. "We're on top of the biggest score we've ever had, and we can't take a chance of ruining it now. If there is even a hint that Mr. Lincoln is setting us up for something, get rid of him."

  "That," Wagner said, patting his .38, "would be a pleasure."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "That's it," Walter Sterling said.

  "Do you know anything about it?" Remo asked.

  "As a matter of fact, I do," Walter Sterling said. "It's been empty since I was a kid. We used to play there— me and all my friends."

  "Good. What's the best way of getting in there without being seen?" Remo asked.