Midnight Man

He ran up to them, apparently out of breath and somewhat wild-eyed. Remo ran through Smith's de- aní hissed. ^

scription again in his mind. Randisi, Smith said, was Psssssst.

Chiun was already moving to the house. Remo quickly got to his side. "If they sent him ahead with that phony warning, they're waiting for us to come running right up to the front of the house," he said.

Immediately, they circled off, through the brush, to come around to the rear of the large four-story mansion.

As they passed the side of the house, they saw three men with suits, armed with automatic rifles, crouched near the pathway leading to the front of

"Quietly," Chiun warned.

Remo nodded. If the Emir was still alive, any sign that Remo and Chiun were coming to his rescue might mean his immediate death.

They cut back in behind the three men. When they were only two feet away, Remo pursed his lips

35, six-foot-two, two hundred pounds, with salt and The ^^ men turned around. Remo and Chiun

pepper hair. This man was almost 50, five-foot-eight, fat, with red hair.

"They've taken over the house," he gasped, grab-

struck at the same time. Remo took the man on the right. Chiun handled the one in the middle and the one on the left. Without a sound, the life was

bing Remo by the shoulders. "The Emir is in danger. crushed from their bodies.

You'd better hurry."

"You're Randisi?" Remo said.

"Yes."

"You're right," Remo told him. "We shouldn't waste any time. We should get right down to it."

"Right."

Remo reached out and touched the fake agent on the back of the neck, where the spinal column enters the skull and is the most vulnerable. It snapped

and the man fell at Ms feet, dead. was brick and the üúnindentation of mortar be-

140

"Four," Chiun said.

"Smith said there were twelve federal agents on the island. And we saw eight Royal Guards. There's at least twenty," Remo said. He looked up, then hissed to Chiun: "There's two up on the roof. I'll go up and work my way down. You start down here and work up. One of us'11 get to the Emir before they have a chance to kill him."

Remo went to the rear of the house. The building

I

tween the old, red bricks was enough for him to get 1 Chiun had started in the front door, just as four

finger and toe holds as he started up. men had walked out of the house. Each of them car-

He went up the side of the building like an upside down film of a drop of rain running down a window. The. secret was in the pressure; the body had to keep the pressure concentrated inward, into the center of the stone, and if the pressure were strong enough and concentrated enough, it overpowered the normal pull of gravity that would yank someone back down to the ground.

As Remo went over the top of the roof, he saw the two men, members of the Royal Guard, looking over the front brick wall toward the ground.

It would have been easy to throw them over.

Easy but noisy. And silence was everything now, if they were to keep the Emir alive.

When he was behind them, he tapped both men on their shoulders. They turned. In a blink of an eye, both dropped to the roof. Remo caught their rifles before they hit the rooftop with a clatter, and carefully laid them down.

Six down. Depending on what Chiun was doing below.

An unlocked trap door opened to the floor below. Remo dropped through it, right into the middle of two more guardsmen who were holding a ladder, getting ready to climb up to the roof.

The men looked at Remo for a split-second before reacting. It was a split-second too long.

Eight down. Remo caught the ladder before it hit.

Remo was alone on the fourth floor. Two floors down was the Emir's bedroom. Remo wondered if Princess Sarra would be with her brother.

I

ried an automatic rifle.

All any of them saw was the purple blur of Chiun's nighttime robe. When he was done, the four rifles were propped together in a military tripod in one corner of the porch. On the other corner were propped the four men in the identical fashion. They looked like a singing group on a Philadelphia street corner.

No one inside the house had heard a sound.

Remo eased his way down to the third floor. There were two men around the corner at the bottom of the steps. Remo heard them talking.

"I think Pakir's dreaming," said one, in a harsh American voice. "There's nobody here."

"Just you and me," said another American voice.

"And me," said Remo, stepping from around the corner.

The two Americans wheeled toward him, their hands reaching for the guns in holsters on their hips.

Ten. That he knew of.

Inside the front door of the house, Chiun had paused, listening. There were no voices, no footsteps. The steps to the second floor were a long, curved staircase, and from the bottom floor it was impossible to see the second landing. On the side of the wall was the lightswitch, and Chiun threw it, casting the downstairs floor and the stairway into darkness.

"Light went off," he heard a voice from upstairs call.

"Check it out," another said.

142 I 143

"Sure. Anything's better than standing here." I "There are three of them. The Emir, the Princess,

Chiun moved to the stairway, and raced half up, | and Pakir. Pakir is nearest us," Chiun whispered.

stopping halfway to the next floor. He could tell by the sounds of their feet that two men were coming down. As they turned the corner so their vision covered the first floor, Chiun stepped out from the shadow at the side of the stairs. His long-nailed hands shot forward from his kimono sleeves and fastened themselves around the throats of the two men. They struggled for a brief instant, trying first to free themselves, then to scream. They did neither. Slowly, Chiun let them drop to the soft, carpeted steps. He ran up the remaining steps to the second floor. Remo was coming down the steps from the third floor.

Perce Pakir was walking into the Emir's room. He carried a pistol in his hand.

Both Remo and Chiun saw him enter the room as they reached the second floor landing.

Four men, two on Remo's side, two on Chiun's side, also watched Pakir enter the room.

It was their last view of life. Remo and Chiun each moved behind their two men and silently throttled them. They released the men's bodies which sank softly to the Persian-carpeted hallway floor, then the two men, Master and disciple, ran down the hallway, meeting at the center door to the Emir's room.

"Took you long enough to get here," Remo said.

"At my age, one must avoid sudden movements," Chiun said lightly. "Quiet."

Remo was silent as Chiun listened at the door. He turned back to Remo.

144

"Then we might as well go in," Remo said.

Remo tossed himself at the door, just at the critical point where the heavy oak and the brass hinges were misbalanced, and as the door swung open and Pakir wheeled, gun in hand, Chiun came through the door over Remo's body, and with an elegant motion of a slippered toe kicked the gun from Pakir's hand. Before the bearded aide could go for it, Remo had him paralyzed, digging his fingers into the Bis-lamian's shoulder muscle.

"He was going to kill my brother," Princess Sarra said. She stood next to the Emir's bed, leaning over, as if ready to shield her monarch with her own body.

"I know," Remo said.

Chiun retrieved Pakir's gun from the floor and put it on the table, next to the Emir.

The old monarch's eyes were fiery with anger.

"Why, Pakir? Why?"

"Because you are going to die anyway. Because when you die I will still be hunted by your enemies. But if I kill you, they will no longer hunt me and I will be wealthy. Wealthy beyond my wildest dreams."

"Ten million dollars," Princess Sarra said to the Emir. "That is what is offered for you."

The Emir looked at her, then back at his once-trusted aide. "Wealthy beyond your wildest dreams? Your trouble, Pakir, is that you always dreamed small," the Emir said.

His hand darted out from his bed and picked up

145

the pistol Chiun had put on the end table. He brought his arm around and squeezed off a shot at Pakir. Remo felt the man grow limp in his hands and dropped him to the floor where he lay motionless.

"Good shot," he said. "I'm glad you didn't hit me."

"I apologize."

"That's all right. I would have dodged," Remo said.

"Not for that," the Emir said. "For using the gun. There was a day when I would have strangled this traitor with my bare hands. But now ... I cannot." He looked toward Chiun.

The old Korean nodded. "Weapons take all the fun out of it," he said. Something seemed to catch his attention and he went to the Emir's large, bedroom window which looked out over the Atlantic Ocean.

He turned back to Remo.

"There is something out there," he said.

"A boat," Remo said.

Chiun nodded. "A black boat. Very black."

146

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Elmo Wimpler was almost ready to go.

The joke would be on the man he rented the boats from when they were found, painted black, and he wondered why someone would want to deface his boats.

The boats had taken more paint that Wimpler had expected and he was glad that he had made up a new batch of the invisibility paint and put it into spray cans. The paint job wasn't much, but it would do for a quick operation.

Maybe when this was over, and he found someone willing to pay him for having killed the Emir, he would move onto a boat. A yacht of his own. And he would only get off the ship when he wanted to make a contract for a killing, or to shop for supplies and food. He did not think he would leave the boat for a woman. It no longer interested him. He had thought a lot about women since the night he had worked his will on Phyllis and, frankly, there was no comparison. He preferred killing to sex.

And tonight he would kill his first monarch, he thought, as he finished pulling on his invisible, black trousers.

There were twenty-one dead men on the island, counting Pakir.

147

Remo called Smith to tell him that the Emir was all right.

"Everyone else is dead?"

"They were all fakes," Remo said.

"I hope so."

"They were. And the Royal Guards were in Pak-ir's pocket because they figured if they stayed loyal to the Emir, they'd be next on the hit parade."

"Have you seen any sign of the bodies of our real agents?"

"I'd have to guess that they were dumped out at sea," Remo said.

"The Princess?" asked Smith.

"She's well and she's clean. She's the only one on the island who wasn't part of it. I think Pakir had a thing for her and wanted to keep her alive."

"What are you doing now?"

"Chiun and I are going after Wimpler. His boat is out there offshore."

"Is that wise?" Smith said. "Leaving the Emir and the Princess alone?"

"It is now. I've taken care of it," Remo said.

"Be careful," said Smith.

Remo hung up the hall telephone and turned to find Sarra watching him from the doorway of her brother's room.

"The Emir?" Remo asked.

"Not well. Pakir's disloyalty is a crushing blow. Chiun is with him."

"You trusted Pakir too, didn't you?"

"I disliked him, but I didn't think he would turn on the Emir," she said.

"He had the hots for you," said Remo.

148

"The hots?" she asked. "Slang. He lusted for you." "Probably. But not I for him. I only have hots for you," she said.

"Thank you," Remo said. "It beats the hell out of love every time."

She stepped up and hugged him. "You will be careful with this other man you wait for?"

"Don't worry. You'll remember what I told you?"

"Yes. I do not understand it, and I do not believe it, but I will do it."

"Just do it," Remo said. They walked together to the doorway of the Emir's room.

Chiun was leaning over the thin and bony ruler who was speaking.

"Since I will die in any case, I would rather have been murdered than find out that Pakir, my friend, had plotted against me."

Chiun's face tightened with anger. "That is stupid," he said.

The Emir looked shocked.

"What?"

"Stupid, stupid," said Chiun. "You are giving to others and their actions the power of life and death over you. But if a man is to be a man, he must rule not only a country, but the circumstances of his life and the conditions of his death."

The Emir obviously thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "There should be no lament for traitors," he said.

"Are you all right, my brother?" Sarra asked as she entered the room.

"Just tired," the Emir said.

149

îl

"Rest," she said. "I will sit with you."

"And he will be about his majesty's work," Chiun

said.

From the doorway, Remo called to Sarra. "You know what to do?"

"Yes," she said. "I do not understand, but I will do it."

And even as Chiun and Remo were going down the stairs toward their waiting boat, Princess Sarra busied herself in the Emir's room, lighting candles. Candles taken from all over the house. She lit them on the dresser and near the windows and on the small end tables and desk and on the mantle.

As their boat powered away from the main dock, and turned behind the small island, Remo saw the flickering of candles in the Emir's room, and smiled to himself. Elmo Wimpler might have a de-

would be just another little man in a black suit, and Princess Sarra, with Pakir's revolver, would blow him into pieces. The Emir was safe.

As their boat moved quietly, slowly toward the dark silhouette against the dark, nighttime sky, Remo said to Chiun, "You are really fond of him, aren't you?"

"He was the holder of a great throne," Chiun said. "He has been replaced by jackals who have neither his courage nor his character. They will, in the sacred name of 'the people,' exalt mediocrity,

150

stupidity, and brutality. I would have a monarchy every time."

"Why?" Remo asked. "Monarchies can be mediocre, stupid, and brutal too."

"But if they are, they can be changed with the disposal of one man. Because of this, the best mon-archs know that they must rule with intelligence and compassion. This man was one of the best. The poor people of his nation will soon know how much of a man he was. Shhhhh. We approach."

Remo cut the engines. The boat continued drifting toward the larger boat, anchored some 40 yards ahead of them.

Elmo Wimpler had only taken a little while to decide with what weapon to replace his confiscated skull-crasher.

A knife.

vice that could short-circuit lightbulbs, but it would M ^visible knife which would, however, pro-

take a lot of concentrated puffs of air to blow out ducg

all those candles. And while he was doing it, he J. .

He had treated three different knives with his

paint, and fashioned a belt with large loops so he could wear them all on his waist. He would, when he had the time, practice throwing them. It would make him even more deadly, working in the dark, and without the telltale flash of flame that would give away his position if he used a gun.

He buckled his belt. It was time.

Time to ice an Emir.

He walked toward the front of the boat. And then he heard it.

A voice.

It was the American.

151

"Anybody home?" it called. "Ready or not, here . «,»!.,, ¦ a

we come " ' ltsa11 over' Elmo> the taI1 one said-

They had felt themselves drift into the boat, but

,. ,,, , . ...„ « No. No. Not now. Not ever,

up close, without the boat outlmed black against the

sky, they could not see it. He and Chiun climbed out of their small boat, going up the side of Wimpler's craft, finding handholds and toeholds where none

could be seen i knife struck the Oriental in the chest—hilt first.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Climbing over the • Damn.

side of the boat, stepping onto the deck, were those two from the park. The American and the Oriental. They had found him.

Elmo Wimpler shrank back into the shadows, crouching down in a corner of the rear deck. He couldn't let them interfere. Not now. Not when he was so close.

He waited until they were both on deck. Then quietly he drew one of his knives. They began to walk about the boat when he noticed something.

Their feet made no sound as they walked.

But normal men should have made sounds as they walked around a wooden deck. Were they . . . something more than normal?

He put the thought out of his mind. He had no time. He had to get rid of them and get on to the Emir.

He stood up and took a step toward the American. And both men turned in his direction as if they

had heard him. «I Now. Within easy reach.

He had made no sound. How had they known? ¦

The Oriental pointed directly at him and said: "There?"

How could they know?

over. Back to Wimpville for you."

He threw the invisible knife through the darkness of the night at the tall man, and the Oriental pushed the white man out of the way. Elmo watched as the

"A knife," the Oriental said. He saw the tall one nod. Elmo pulled another knife from his belt. Holding it in front of him, he charged the tall white man.

He didn't see the man's hand move, but something struck his wrist. The knife flew from his hand and over the side.

He rolled back away from the man and pulled his last knife from his belt. He stood perfectly still. If he did not move, they would have to come to him. And he was still the Shadow, the man who terrified other men, the man with the power of Ufe and death over others.

"He's standing still, Chiun," the American said.

"He is right there," the old man said, pointing directly at Wimpler. "He has another knife."

"A piece of cake," Remo said.

Elmo tightened his grip on the knife and licked his Ups. The Oriental moved closer to him on one side, the white man on the other.

Wimpler swung the knife with all his power, aiming for the old man's skinny throat. But suddenly the old man wasn't there anymore.

"You can stop moving," said the Oriental into the 152 I 153

blackness. "But you cannot stop breathing, and we can always find you."

Blinded with anger and frustration, Elmo swung at the robed man with his knife again, feeling even more fury as he sharply expelled his air before the thrust.

The Oriental easily avoided the knife.

Then the tall one was behind him. Wimpler looked from one to the other, one to the other. He swung the invisible knife wildly around him. But his breath came in loud puffs and the men avoided the knife slashes. It couldn't be. The greatest invention of all time was being nullified by his own goddamned breathing.

He threw the knife at the white man. It missed as the tall man ducked and clattered harmlessly against the side of the boat.

.. He couldn't let himself be caught. He couldn't. They would ruin it all. Make him visible. Make him a nothing again.

He couldn't stand that.

Elmo Wimpler stood up straight and bolted to the rear railing of the boat.

"Chiun, the rail."

Wimpler jumped off.

The impulse to jump had been blind and suicidal, but without intending it or even thinking of it, Elmo landed in the little, electrically-powered, fishing boat he had been towing. He had planned to use it to motor silently into the Emir's island. As he landed in a heap in the boat, he felt a sharp pain in his ankle.

He started the electric trolling motor and tossed off the small rope that bound him to the bigger

154

boat. Even this small boat had been treated with the invisibility paint and now they would never find him.

Remo sensed that Wimpler was jumping the rail. He was surprised when he heard a thud rather than a splash. He ran to the rail just as the electric motor started up. The son of a bitch had a small, invisible boat. Remo watched as the wake of the boat kicked up and it looked as if some giant, finned fish were swimming away from the larger boat.

"Chiun, he's got a boat. Let's get this thing started."

"Too slow," said Chiun. "He will be hidden in darkness by then. Swim."

Remo nodded and vaulted over the railing into the chilly, Atlantic water. He paused for a moment, then picked up the faint trau of the small boat's wake, slapping tiny pressure waves against his face. He straightened out his body atop the water and began stroking after the boat, making his body one with the water, letting the flow of the water surround his body and pull him with itself, stroking only to correct his direction.

Wimpler had looked back in time to see the tall man jump off the boat into the water. Was the fool actually going to try to catch him by swimming? Did he think he could outswim a motor-driven boat?

In disbelief, as he watched, the swimming man began to gain on him.

How could that be?

How could he swim faster than a boat?

And how could he see Elmo's boat to chase it?

155

He realized the answer to the second question. The man was following the wake of the boat and the

faint sound of the electric motor. His invisible boat ' Hewas conscious when he hit the cold water. His

was doing him no good. It pinpointed his position beautifully.

Wimpler had to try to outrun the swimming man who, incredibly, seemed to be gaining speed but wasn't even stroking. He turned the boat's rudder, pushing it into a large, curved swing, a circle. Remo stayed close behind.

The circle closed tighter and tighter around the bigger boat.

Wimpler had a plan. He found a small aluminum oar under his seat. He turned the boat again. He glanced behind him. Remo was following tight be-

hind his boat, only fifteen yards away. ' mouthÉledwithwater' He screamed- but '* was

This time, he turned the rudder of the boat sharply. The boat swerved inwards, and as Wimpler gave it maximum throttle it surged ahead, and raced straight on toward the larger boat. Wimpler waited a moment, correcting direction, aiming it at the large, black outline visible for a moment against the whitish clouds. Then he poised in the bow of his small boat. Suddenly, it rammed the bigger boat. Jarred, for a moment, Wimpler jumped up onto the deck of the larger boat, the oar raised over his head.

Chiun, in the corner of the deck, turned just as Wimpler raced for him, ready to swing the oar down atop the Oriental's skull. Then he would start up the large boat and race away from this swimming maniac who was following him.

Wimpler swung the metal oar at the Oriental's

head. It struck something. But then, like a pole

156 • 157

vaulter, Wimpler found himself thrown upward through the air, out into the ocean.

instinct was to try to swim. He had gotten only three strokes when his arms began to tire and his legs to feel heavy. He began to sink.

Panic.

The clothing he had used to fashion his outfit became heavier as it absorbed water but his great invention—his invisibility paint—began to expand and to form bubbles which began filling up with water. It was swelling, becoming cumbersome. He felt the growing size of it pressing against his arms and legs, making movements difficult.

He opened his mouth to call for help but his

only in his mind.

He tried to

Get rid of the clothes. Get them off.

He tried, but the garments seemed to cling to him like glue. His arms refused to move, to follow his commands to rip at his buttons and free themselves.

He felt as if he were wearing a suit of armor.

He felt numb.

He felt sleepy.

Then he didn't feel anything, anymore.

Remo hoisted himself up over the side of the larger boat.

"What are you doing?" Chiun demanded as he climbed back aboard.

"He crashed, Chiun. He rammed right into you. He probably sank like a stone."

"I know he sank like a stone, you white buffoon," Chiun said. "I threw him overboard. But his uniform. Do you realize we could make a fortune with that?" "What?"

"Can't you see the possibilities?" "I don't give a rat's ass about the possibilities," Remo said. "You're just money hungry."

"You do not want me to be rich. You want my people to forever starve, to be forever oppressed, to . . ."

Anything was better than listening to the whole spiel. Remo looked out at the calm sea. There was a faint, little whirlpool of ripples about fifteen feet from the boat. Remo wondered how deep the water was.

"Well, since I'm wet already," he said. Chiun patted him on the back in encouragement. Remo dove over the railing into the water. When he reached the spot of the ripples, he dove straight down. He could not gauge how deep he had gone, but he could feel the pressure of the surrounding water compressing the air in his lungs. And then before him, he saw Elmo Wimpler. The little man's eyes were open in the horror of death. No more bubbles came from his open mouth. His hair floated around his face like a gang of anarchistic snakes. He had reached the point in the water where the weight of his body matched the weight of the water surrounding him, and he hovered there, neither going up nor down. Some day, when the gases of death had formed inside his body, the specific density of the corpse would change, would lighten, and he would pop to the surface like a cork.

158

Remo reached out to touch the body and realized that the suit Wimpler was wearing had swollen like a balloon. His arms and legs looked as if they were welded together. The clothing was covered with great bubbles and even as Remo watched they broke open and disintegrated and slipped away into the water, tiny black slicks of paint breaking down.

He grabbed Wimpler by the neck and swam to the surface with Wimpler's body in tow. When he got to the boat he pushed the body up and over, onto the deck.

He followed.

"I can see him," Chiun complained.

"Not much of a looker, was he?" Remo said.

"The water has destroyed his secret," Chiun said. "Or the salt."

"Yeah," said Remo. "Something's ruining his cover."

"Throw him back," Chiun said.

"I beg your pardon," Remo said.

"I said throw him back. The suit is useless and he is dead so he is useless."

"Throw him back, like a fish?" Remo said.

"Just throw him back, like anything you want to throw him back as," Chiun said. "A fish, a stone, a pound of marbles. Throw him back and let us return to the island."

"Sheesh," Remo said. He hefted the body up, over the rail and dropped it.

It made a bigger splash striking the water than any too-small fish that had ever been thrown back.

The big boat lurched. Then Remo could feel it drop a few inches. He went to the other side and looked down. There was a gash in the wooden side.

159

The invisible paint had been ripped off and beneath it, Remo could see the torn wood, caused when Wimpler's small boat had slammed the side. The big boat was sinking. Let it, Remo thought.

grotesque parody of death. But this was no parody because there was no life left in the monarch's body. There was a smile on his face.

Princess Sarra was seated by the bed, her head in her arms. She was crying. Next to her on the mat-

"Let's go," he called. "Time to go home." Chiun j tress was the revolver with which she was to protect

followed him into their small boat. They cut loose ¡ her brother. The candles still burned in the room,

and turned back to shore, back to New Jersey, back ! She looked up as Remo and Chiun entered,

to the Emir and Princess Sarra. | "Remo . . ."

When they returned to the mansion, Remo called Smith from the first floor hall telephone.

"It's over," he said.

"Wimpler?"

"Dead. Bottom of the ocean."

"His invisible outfit?" Smith asked.

"You're getting just like Chiun," Remo said. "The salt water destroyed it."

"And the Emir?"

"Okay, the last time we looked," Remo said. "I

guess they can relax for a while." , ,u. . , , , a, .„. .

6Jrulers of his country who had offered millions to

"Probably not," Smith said. "There will always be someone who wants him dead, Remo; someone else who will hire a hit man or a mercenary or a whole

army. I'm going to send in new security forces to- tlve

night to guard him. You make sure that you don't leave there until everyone is in place."

"Okay, Smitty."

Remo hung up and looked over at Chiun who still seemed disconsolate.

"C'mon, Chiun. Cheer up. Let's go upstairs."

There was no answer to their knock on the Emir's door. They walked in to find the Emir lying on his back on bed, his arms flung out to his sides in a

160

"I know."

"He died only moments ago. He was sleeping and then he just stopped breathing." She said it with a tone of desperation as if she expected Remo to be able to do something to repeal the Emir's action.

"His troubles are over," Remo said.

Chiun stood at the foot of the bed and bowed his head. "I salute you as a great ruler, a true son of a true throne."

The Emir was buried in the United States. The

have him back alive, so they could kill him, refused his body in death, and denied him burial in his na-

Sitting at an outdoor cafe on University Place in New York, Smith asked Remo: "The Princess?"

"I put her on a plane."

"To where?"

"I didn't ask."

Chiun sat glumly at the little table, twisting a paper napkin into thread-thin strips.

Smith nodded toward him, his eyes asking Remo a question.

161

"He's been upset since we lost Wimpler's invisible paint," Remo said.

"Well, those samples you saved us and his car in the garage should give us enough to duplicate the formula," Smith said.

Chiun looked up sharply.

"And then what will you do with it?" he said.

Smith shrugged. "Turn it over to the defense department. Some kind of military application, I guess,"

Chiun went back to tearing his napkin, unhappy as he watched all possibility of commercial enterprise being drained from the invisible, black paint.

"Don't feel bad," Remo said. "In the wrong hands, that paint could have been used for a lot of bad things, Chiun."

"Name one."

"Well," said Remo. "It could have been used to paint Sinanju. Then Smitty's submarine, filled with gold, would never be able to find it."

Chiun said something sharply in Korean.

"What did he say?" Smith asked Remo.

"Trust me. You don't want to know."

"Try me."

"He said that when he's a world-famous writer, people won't treat him this way."

162