A Pound of Prevention td-121

by Warren Murphy

  L. Vas Deferens was proud to be white.

  L. Vas Deferens hated anyone who was not white. And yet the world mocked him by forcing him to throw in with one of the most famous black faces on the planet.

  No matter. Deferens had just made a deal that would guarantee insulation from nonwhites for the rest of his natural days. And Bachsburg would be a smoking crater. A final stab at the mookas who had led his nation to ruin.

  A soft smile brushed Deferens's perfect white face as he headed down the hallway to his private office.

  In the small lobby, his white secretary informed him that there had been an urgent call while he was away. When Deferens picked up the note, he found that it was from one of the scientists working on his special project.

  Frowning, he carried the scrap of paper into his office. The soundproofed door clicked shut on all the noisy activity outside. Deferens bolted it securely.

  He crossed to his desk. The minister was just sinking into his seat when the door popped open again. When he looked up, the door was closing gently once more.

  Remo Williams stood before the East African defense minister, a thin smile on his cruel features. He wore a clean set of clothes.

  "Remo?" Deferens said, masking his surprise. "I was not informed you were on your way up." He looked beyond his guest, to the door he was certain he'd locked.

  Remo seemed to enjoy the minister's thin discomfort. "Didn't check in at the front desk," he explained. As he crossed the room, his feet made not a sound.

  "I see." Deferens sat up more straightly. He placed his secretary's note carefully on his desk. He was getting a strange sensation from this man-something Deferens himself had been accused of giving everyone all his life. An icy chill ran up his rigid spine.

  "I trust Batubizee is dead," he ventured.

  Remo shook his head as he sat on the edge of the desk. "You're too trusting," he said. "Now me, on the other hand? The only thing I trust in is man's limitless capacity to be a two-timing asshole to his fellow man. So far, Elvis, I haven't been disappointed."

  A cloud crossed the defense minister's face. "What is the meaning of this disrespect, Remo?" he asked, feeling the first stirrings of fear in his chest. "I hired you because you led me to believe you were competent. Now you break into my office-yes, break-and tell me that Batubizee is still alive. On top of that, your rudeness is inexcusable. Get off my desk," he ordered.

  Remo didn't move.

  "Gee, I hope I don't have to give up my job as East Africa's official assassin," Remo mused. "I already ordered the stationery. Course, I could always get a job as a sewer worker. You gotta watch your step down there, though, what with all the alligators and thermonuclear warheads people flush these days. But I hear the benefits are good."

  When the grin broke full on Remo's face, Deferens was already diving in his desk drawer. A delicate hand wrapped around the butt of an automatic.

  The gun turned to brittle ice, shattering into a hundred metal shards. When he looked up, Remo stood above him. Panic spread wide across Deferens's face.

  He grabbed for the phone. It seemed to explode on contact with his flesh. Shards of black plastic scattered across his spotless desk surface. When he tried to bolt from the room, a strong hand pressed against his chest.

  Coaxing the East African official back into his well-oiled chair, Remo leaned against the edge of the desk.

  "Okay, all the nukes weren't dismantled when they were supposed to be," Remo ventured. "That's pretty clear. So I'm guessing you and Mandobar planted one of them beneath the city for what, blackmail? Because if it's just to unclog some backed-up pipes, you're really overcompensating." Deferens stiffened in his chair. Screwing his mouth tightly shut, he stared defiantly at the wall.

  His defiance lasted only until the pain began. Remo pressed but two fingers into his shoulder. To Deferens, it was as if someone were pouring molten metal into the joint. He gasped in pain. "No," he breathed. The pain was too great for him to shout. "I brokered a deal with Camorra to destroy Bachsburg. Mandobar doesn't know." Remo eased back the pressure, a puzzled look on his face. "Isn't Camorra that big turtle that's always trashing Tokyo? Shoots fire from his ass?" Deferens shook his head. His green eyes watered. "It is a rival of the Mafia. Based in Naples, not Sicily."

  "Never heard of them," Remo said.

  "Few have in this century," Deferens said. "That is why they wished to destroy Bachsburg. World crime will be crippled at midnight tonight when the bombs go off. Afterward, Camorra will dominate the global scene."

  "And you swear Mandobar doesn't know?"

  "No," Deferens insisted. "The plan is the result of lengthy negotiations between myself and Don Vincenzo."

  Remo's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Elvis wouldn't lie to me?" he cautioned.

  The pain was excruciating. "No!" Deferens gasped.

  He was telling the truth. When Remo's hand retreated to his side, there was a thoughtful look on his face.

  In his seat, Deferens rubbed at his aching shoulder.

  "I suppose you're some sort of American agent," he snarled.

  Remo shook his head. "Actually, I consider myself more of a conscientious world citizen," he replied. "Aside from me and Ted Turner, we're a dying breed."

  The pain was rapidly becoming a distant memory. Already the gears were turning as Deferens tried to figure a way out of this. If he could just get Remo outside, he could signal the guards. Yet, he realized, Remo had apparently gotten in here without anyone seeing him.

  "I suppose you wish to deactivate the bombs," Deferens suggested.

  "Bombs?" Remo asked. "There's more than one?"

  Deferens nodded. "And since I am the only person who knows the precise location of all of them, I will have to lead you to them. If you will allow me to summon my driver, we may begin deactivating them."

  When he called his bodyguard driver, a prearranged signal would flood the office with palace guards.

  Deferens stood. Remo shoved him back in his chair.

  "Gimme a minute," Remo said. "I'm thinking." In his entire life, the defense minister of East Africa had not once perspired. But as Remo stared off into space above him, the first prickly hint of a rash began to form beneath Deferens's white shirt collar.

  The East African dropped his voice low. "Remo, I can see you are having difficulty with this," he said. "Perhaps I can make things easier. I will double your retainer if you come to work exclusively for me. One million dollars per year." His eyes were crafty.

  That got Remo's attention. He glanced down at the defense minister. "Three million," he countered.

  A hopeful smile twitched the corners of Deferens's lips. "Done," he nodded.

  "Too quick," Remo said. "I want six million. In gold. Up front."

  The smile tightened to a flat line. "That would be more difficult," Deferens said.

  "Nonnegotiable," Remo insisted. "I know you've got it, and I'm sick of being yanked by everyone all the time. Six million in gold or no dice."

  Deferens considered deeply. His Camorra position in East African after the destruction of Bachsburg would net him much, much more than that. And given the abilities he had displayed, Remo would make a powerful ally when Deferens made his inevitable move against Don Vincenzo.

  At last, the minister nodded. "Agreed," he said crisply.

  Remo snuled tightly. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just wanted to prove I wasn't as big a schlemiel at negotiating as some people think. Besides, you look like an even bigger fusspot than the guy I work for now." He hopped down from the desk.

  Deferens recoiled. The back of his chair struck the wall. When Remo reached out a thick-wristed hand, Deferens shrank fearfully.

  "Think this through, Remo," he warned, sweat trickling down his back. "There is no way to deactivate all the bombs without my help."

  And Remo's smile was as icy cold as Deferens's own black heart. "Who said I wanted to deactivate them?" he asked.

  Deferens didn't have time to consider R
emo's surprising words. Before he even knew what was happening, Remo had reached out and tapped a spot in the perfect center of L. Vas Deferens's pale white forehead.

  For the shocked East African defense minister, all thoughts of his bombs or this madman in his midst dissolved in an instant. The entire world of L. Vas Deferens collapsed into a single bright white dot that vanished into a sea of inky blackness.

  Chapter 25

  Chiun sat in a lotus position on the floor of Chief Batubizee's hut, the hems of his pale orchid kimono tucked neatly around his bony knees. The steamer trunks he had brought from Castle Sinanju were stacked against one wall, a colorful contrast to the washed-out surroundings.

  On the hills around the village, sentries scanned both plain and sky. So far, the anticipated attack from Bachsburg had not yet materialized. Chiun assumed that this would change once the failure of Remo's expedition was learned. Until that time, all the Master of Sinanju could do was wait.

  Although he had not let it show, the news of Remo's visions had disturbed the old Korean. They betokened a future that, in truth, Chiun had hoped was far away.

  Deep in meditation, he was attempting to seek the guidance of his ancestors when he became aware of an urgent conversation beyond the thin walls of the hut.

  He had not detected the engines that would bring more men from Bachsburg. Only the sound of Batubizee's own truck returning a few moments before.

  Since no one called to him, Chiun remained seated. Eyes closed, he continued meditating.

  His concentration was shattered a minute later by the anxious appearance of Chief Batubizee and Bubu.

  Eyes flitting open, Chiun crinkled his nose in displeasure at the odor that clung to the young native's soiled clothes.

  "Master Chiun, I bring grave news," Bubu said excitedly.

  Chiun resisted the urge to pinch his nose between his fingers. "Have the invaders arrived?" he asked. Batubizee shook his head.

  "It is far more serious than an attempt on my life," he intoned. "Bubu and your son found one of the men who slew my warriors in the Bachsburg sewers. The young Master of Sinanju dispatched the villain."

  A puff of pride swelled Chiun's silken kimono. "He is a good and faithful son." The old man nodded. "True to his House and our traditions." He suddenly noted the bandage tied over Bubu's sleeve. "You are injured." He frowned.

  "Master Remo saved my life," Bubu offered. The chest of his kimono expanded further. "He is an ally of both the present and future Luzu Empire." Chiun smiled.

  "I am not so certain," Batubizee intoned seriously.

  Chiun allowed the air to slip slowly from his lungs. "What do you mean?" the Master of Sinanju asked, praying Remo hadn't done anything more stupid than usual. He was stunned when the truth was far worse than he could have imagined.

  Bubu quickly related all that had occurred in Bachsburg. The story ended with the discovery of the nuclear device.

  "You are certain this is what it was?" Chiun asked thinly once the breathless native was finished.

  "I cannot say," Bubu replied, shaking his head. "I can only tell you that which Master Remo claims to be true."

  "And what did my son do about this device?" Bubu glanced anxiously at Batubizee.

  "Nothing, Master," he admitted to Chiun with some reluctance. "He merely laughed and left it where it sat." Frowning deeply, Chiun said nothing.

  "This is terrible if true," Batubizee interjected. "I know well of these devices. When one explodes, death rains down many miles away. Luzuland would not be spared."

  "I cannot believe that Master Remo would allow that to happen," Bubu insisted.

  But on the floor, Chiun slowly shook his head. "You do not know him as I do," he said quietly.

  "Then he would do this?" Batubizee demanded.

  "I cannot say," the old Korean replied. "Remo's emotions are not his own. There is no telling what he might allow at this fragile state." He rose to his feet. "I must leave your side and hie to Bachsburg," he told Batubizee. "For to protect your land, I must see to it that this device of wicked consequence is destroyed." He marched to the door.

  Bubu hurried after him. "I will take you," he insisted.

  As the three men left the hut, Batubizee and Bubu hoped there was time enough for the ancient Master of Sinanju to stop the bomb.

  For his part, Chiun hoped there was time enough before they left for the eager young native to bathe.

  Chapter 26

  Plastic fruit adorned the brim of the big straw hat. Strawberries, grapes, an orange and two bananas nestled neatly on the crown. As a dark-faced assistant opened the door, Mandobar stopped beside the overly muscled young man, first checking the hat's reflection in the shiny glass panes at the front of the huge auditorium.

  Perfect. Almost.

  Mandobar tipped the brim of the plastic-fruitcovered hat ever so slightly.

  Now it was perfect.

  "All right, all right!" Mandobar snapped. A fat hand waved angrily.

  The man dutifully drew the door open fully. Mandobar breezed inside.

  The great foyer with its crystal chandeliers and rich imported tapestries was chilled to an icy sixtyfive degrees. A great change from the hundred-degree weather outside.

  Feeling gooseflesh rise across exposed arms, Mandobar hurried to a rear office.

  As Mandobar settled into a wide chair, a fat finger stabbed in the speed-dial number for the office of the defense minister. It rang several times before the voice of a male secretary finally answered. "Minister Deferens's office. How may I direct your call?"

  Mandobar leaned forward. The farthest rounded end of a well-fed belly brushed the edge of the desk. "Get me Deferens."

  "I am sorry," the secretary replied. "Minister Deferens is unavailable at the moment."

  It was already a risk to be speaking to someone other than Deferens directly. Mandobar's voice was recognizable.

  Hoping that the five syllables already spoken would not be enough to alert the secretary to the caller's identity, Mandobar broke the connection. A chubby hand continued to rest on the phone long after it was back in its cradle.

  Where was Deferens? This was the most crucial phase of the operation. Nearly all of the dignitaries would be in Bachsburg now. Deferens should have been coordinating with them from his palace office. Those had been Mandobar's instructions.

  After a long time, the hand finally left the phone. Mandobar would have an underling at the village make the necessary calls to Bachsburg. The criminal leaders still needed to be told when and where to come. The men who had been brought here so far were always blindfolded. Even Deferens didn't know about the village. He had always been too busy with his work to ask or care where Mandobar's secret meetings were being held.

  Of course, there would be no risk of exposure by having someone else call. After all, everyone here in the bungalow village already knew who their employer was. Not that this knowledge would do them any good. Unlike the coordinators in Bachsburg, all of the people in the village would be dead by tomorrow.

  Mandobar stood. The fruit hat reflected smartly in a glass picture frame on the opposite wall. Beneath the mound of fruit, a plump face scowled back at Mandobar.

  One thing was certain. If an AWOL Deferens ended up torpedoing this deal so late in the game, Mandobar would make certain his death would not come as painlessly as those in the bungalow village. After all, there were still plenty of tires lying unused around East Africa.

  Gaily colored burnoose trails swirling wildly behind an ample derriere, Mandobar stormed from the office.

  Chapter 27

  When he pulled open his hotel-room door, Remo found the Master of Sinanju waiting inside. The old man was fuming.

  "Is this where it ends for us?" Chiun accused hotly. "You fleeing with your wretched life while you leave your father in spirit to the mercy of radioactive booms and toadstool clouds?"

  "Do I look like I'm fleeing?" Remo asked, perturbed, as he closed the door.

  "Worse," Chi
un snapped. "You would make yourself a martyr to a cause no one but you understands."

  "Nope," Remo said. "Not in the martyr biz. Actually, I was just gonna go get you. I'm glad you're here. You saved me another trip out to that dump."

  Chiun's face hardened. "Do not dare speak ill of Luzuland, American. Yes, American," he stressed, as if employing the most vile of curses. "Those simple people have something you will never have."

  "Cholera?" Remo suggested.

  The tiny Korean stomped his feet in anger. "Respect for their elders," he hissed. "Bubu would never abandon his chief to an idiotic boom device."

  "There's more than one bomb, Little Father."

  "Worse still," Chiun accused. The anger seemed to drain from him all at once. "Oh, Remo," he lamented. "Have these visitations so hardened your heart? Do you now covet the title of Reigning Master so greatly that you would not even give me time to at least make peace with my ancestors?"

  It was an accusation Remo had endured before. This time, however, it took on special meaning. "Don't say that, Chiun," he said quietly. "And I was coming to get you. The bombs aren't due to go off until midnight. We'll get out of here in plenty of time."

  He headed for the bathroom. Chiun trailed him inside.

  "We are not going anywhere," Chiun insisted. "Well, we're sure as hell not staying at ground zero," Remo replied. Running water in the basin, he splashed some on his face.

  As he stood in the door, Chiun saw Remo's sewer clothes stuffed in the toilet. Some water had spilled over onto the tile floor. His nose rebelled at the stench.

  "What is this?" he demanded.

  "Didn't Bubu tell you?" Remo asked, drying his hands.

  "He mentioned some misadventure the two of you shared in a cesspool. I assumed you were on yet another quest to root out other ancestors of yours who are not of Sinanju."

  "Lay off," Remo griped.

  Flinging down the towel, he left the room. Chiun followed him into the living area of the suite. "Very well," the Master of Sinanju replied. "I will not speak ill of your mongrel heritage or your quixotic search for the ragpickers who hatched you, but if I am going to be that nice to you, you must give something to me in return. The location of the boom devices."