"I was asked to come here."
"You got that in writing?"
Dr. Gregorian's black eyes went dull. "No."
"Malpractice lawyers love guys like you."
Dr. Gregorian looked at his medicide machine.
"I think I need some of my own medicine. Could you help me?"
"Sorry, I have better things to do."
Woodenly, Dr. Mordaunt Gregorian sat himself down on the hard pine floor and hooked himself up. He was about to trip the switch that would pour the painless barbiturates into his own bloodstream when a tiny old Asian stepped from the shadows and said, "Next time, demand a fair price for correct services."
His last thoughts were a confused question. What did that little man mean?
When the police came, they recognized Mordaunt Gregorian from his TV appearances. No one could tell if he was dead or not, because he looked the same in life as he had in death. Which was to say, dead.
Just to be sure, they cuffed the corpse before they shoved it into the body bag.
Chapter 30
"It is obvious," Harold Smith was saying two days later, "that Pearl Clancy was the true Eldress."
"No way she was traipsing around Nirvana West, whispering in people's ears," Remo said. He was in the kitchen of his home, steaming rice for the midday meal, the telephone receiver cradled under his chin. It buzzed with Smith's lemony tones.
"She was the Eldress, but Nalini Toshi served as her eyes, ears, and when necessary, personal assassin. It was her voice that spoke to Karl Sagacious and Theodore Magarac, precipitating the events that led to the discovery of the so-called thunderbug, the founding of PAPA and all the events that followed."
"The whole thing was loony, trying to get Blotto Clancy back on the presidential fast track."
"It had been a Clancy dream-some might say obsession-to get one of their sons elected President," Smith said.
"At the rate new Clancys are entering politics these days," Remo sighed, "it's bound to happen one of these days."
"Perhaps in your lifetime, Remo. But not in mine. In any case, we need not fear for Senator Clancy running for high office again."
"Why not?"
"It was announced today that Senator Clancy is vacating his Senate seat."
Remo checked the rice. It was almost done. "Grief over his mother's death?" he asked.
"Not from the sound of his plans. He has also filed for divorce and run off to Tahiti with his secretary."
"Guess the only thing keeping him in politics was family pressure," said Remo. "Do we go after him?"
"Not necessary. Acting on statements Thrush Limburger made to the FBI, three of Clancy's aides have been arrested for the Limburger kidnapping. They have confessed and have implicated the senator. Extradition may be difficult, but Clancy appears to be not much more than a drink-sodden pawn to his mother's ambitions. Needless to say, the HELP bill has been quietly killed in committee."
"One thing I don't understand. What was all that finger wriggling about?"
"I have looked into that, Remo. It is believed that arachnids, specifically certain species of jumping spider, communicate through semaphorelike signals using their palpi."
"Their what?"
"Palpi. They are in the nature of-um-sexual organs and situated on either side of a spider's head. From the behavior both the Toshi woman and Pearl Clancy exhibited, it appears they were bugging their eyes to give them the semblance of a spider's unwinking orbs, their fingers mimicking the palp signals. Obviously, this was a method of directing the deadly spiders to specific actions. The perfume scent you describe was some sort of olfactory signal to bite the wearer. As well as a natural pheromone of some sort, no doubt passed down along with the secret of communicating with spiders from Spider Diva to Spider Diva."
"That would explain why I couldn't keep my hands off her, even when I knew better," Remo said. "So why didn't the spiders just bite Nalini?"
"Perhaps they did. Perhaps she had built up an immunity to the spider venom. More likely, the spiders considered her one of their own species. No doubt the Toshi woman passed her secrets on to Pearl Clancy. The finger signals were clearly their method of communicating with one another."
"I'll try explaining that to Chiun, but I'm not sure he's gonna believe it. I'm not sure I do."
"Where is Master Chiun?"
"Upstairs, listening to Thrush Limburger."
"I have been monitoring his broadcast as well. He seems to have single-handedly quelled the HELP scare. Bug-eating has tailed off now that people understand the bug is neither a disease carrier nor nutritionally fulfilling."
"Tail off? What's wrong with stopping altogether?"
"Certain people with eating disorders have been unable to cease eating them. Anorexics, mostly."
"Anything that can be done about that?"
"The FDA is looking into banning the bug, but we may have underground bug-eating in this country for years to come."
"Different strokes for different folks," said Remo. "How did the President take the news?"
Smith cleared his throat nervously. "The President is, as you know, a longtime admirer of the Clancy clan and their contribution to American politics. And Senator Clancy was one of his most important political allies in the Senate."
"He blew his top, huh?"
"He was relieved to know he would not have to fight Senator Clancy for his party's nomination in the next presidential election," said Smith.
"I guess he owes us one."
"He was not entirely pleased, since we were responsible for restoring Thrush Limburger to the airwaves again."
"Maybe there's something to that windbag after all," said Remo, laughing.
Later, rice in hand, Remo went upstairs, where the Master of Sinanju was seated on a tatami mat before a clock radio that was booming in sympathy with the voice of Thrush Limburger.
Limburger was saying, "Put away your sunblock, my friends. There is no ozone hole over northern California. But if you are a regular listener to this show, you knew that. Because here at the TTT Network, we always-but always-tell the truth."
"I guess he turned out to be useful after all," said Remo.
"Hush," admonished Chiun.
Limburger went on. "And there is no HELP. Oh, we have a lot of dead people out in California. But they're not dead because they've taken a bite from Ingraticus Avalonicus, an insect so retarded it commits suicide at the first opportunity. They're dead-and you might want to write this down-they're dead because they were the bitee, not the biter. Doing the biting-listen to these verb endings carefully now-is a rather venomous tropical spider salted into the California wilderness. Mercifully, they're all dead now, thanks to me and Mother Nature."
"Mother Nature!" said Remo. "Where does he get that?"
"You've heard me tell you," boomed Thrush Limburger, "that the California drought is no end-of-the-world catastrophe, but a mere inevitable cycle of nature, serving some useful but as yet unfathomable purpose in the great scheme of things. Well, I'm here to tell you, that purpose revealed itself. Yes, it did. Because if we hadn't had that drought, and if those northern California grasses hadn't been so crackly dry, and a careless match had not been dropped, we'd still have a jumping spider infestation out there on the coast and we'd still be here talking about Human Environmental Liability Paradox, the virus that does not, and never did exist. Investigated, unmasked, and eradicated by Yours Truly. Thrush Limburger."
A musical chime began ringing, signaling the close of another broadcast.
And without warning, the Master of Sinanju brought his hand crashing down on the radio.
"What'd he say to tick you off?" Remo demanded.
"It is not what he said, it is what he did not say."
"Which is?"
"He did not give proper credit where proper credit is due."
"He can't give us any credit. He doesn't even know who we are."
"He could have dropped a hint. I would have settled for a hint. Eve
n a niggling one."
"You wouldn't have settled for anything less than a guest spot on his show and you know it."
"He does not have guests," Chiun spat. "He is an air hog. It is bad enough that he is a credit hog, but he is an air hog too."
"Forget him. I cooked you some of your favorite rice."
"I am not hungry. Instead, fetch me my scrolls. If that loud, fat white will not give Sinanju proper credit, at least I will record the truth for future generations. Taking care to correctly spell Flush Hamburger's name, of course."
And Remo laughed. After Nirvana West, it was good to be home again-such as it was.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 180abe30-2899-4b9c-a638-9cf5e2a43e83
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 24 September 2010
Created using: calibre - 0.7.18, FictionBook Editor Release 2.5 software
Document authors :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
Feeding Frenzy td-94 Page 21