A Pound of Prevention td-121

by Warren Murphy

  Chapter 33

  The temperature in the sewer had risen as the day's hot sun baked the asphalt above. The goggles of Nunzio Spumoni's gas mask were fogged from humidity and anxiety. He had to pull the mask up to the top of his head to speak. His cell phone was slick in his palm.

  "I don't know, Don Vincenzo," Nunzio said worriedly. "I have tried him, but he has not returned my calls."

  The Camorra agent had explained all of this already.

  Minister Deferens had disappeared. Not even his office knew his whereabouts.

  The bombs were still set to go off at midnight. After Deferens vanished, Nunzio had come down here to check. Except now none of the men who were supposed to be caught in the blast were in Bachsburg. They were all at that damn parry of Nellie Mandobar's.

  Over the phone, Nunzio could hear the muffled roar of the raucous gathering. When he spoke, Don Vincenzo's voice was a rasping echo. The head of Camorra had been forced to place his call from the men's room.

  "I am not pleased, Nunzio," Don Vincenzo said menacingly. It was the tenth time he'd said so that evening.

  His tone gave Nunzio a rare shiver.

  "Don't worry, Don Vincenzo," he promised. "I'm certain he will call."

  "Whether he does or does not, I am leaving this party by eight o'clock," the old don snarled. "My head is already pounding from this noise."

  "You are not returning to Bachsburg?" Nunzio asked, trying to ingratiate himself by showing his great concern.

  "Do you want me to die?" Vincenzo snapped. "Has that been your wish all along? Of course I am not, fool. I am flying to Victoria to rendezvous with my jet. Dammit, I should not even be here. That anitra cervello Giovani was dancing with a whore a moment ago." Low menace flooded his tone. "For your sake, he had better not be alive tomorrow."

  Nunzio gulped. "We will make alternative plans," he vowed, his voice a croak. "We will reset the bombs for tomorrow, when Giovani and the rest have come back to the city."

  "If your Minister Deferens ever contacts you," Don Vincenzo said, sneering. "I am very, very disappointed in you, Nunzio." With that, he broke the connection.

  Shivering visibly, Nunzio snapped the phone shut.

  Where was Deferens?

  Don Vincenzo was already planning to leave the country. If L. Vas Deferens didn't call soon, Nunzio Spumoni wouldn't be far behind.

  In the underground tunnel, the Camorra man pulled his protective mask back on. So nervous was he, Nunzio had hardly noticed the stench.

  Like Don Vincenzo, Nunzio had his own doomsday plan. If Deferens didn't arrive by 8:30 p.m. sharp, he would drive like hell to the airport and take a nine-o'clock flight out of East Africa. It didn't matter where he flew to. Just as long as he wasn't in Bachsburg for the explosions.

  He would worry about the personal fallout later. Nunzio paced back and forth on the slimy catwalk, his arms crossed, phone in hand. His suit was drenched with sweat.

  He had left more than two dozen urgent messages with Deferens's office. There were Camorra men with cell phones stationed at every bomb site. If the defense minister showed up at any one of them, his men would call.

  Nunzio and a handful of men were waiting at the primary site, beneath the Bachsburg hotel district. Most of the crime lords, as well as much of the city, would be taken out with this one bomb.

  Six bombs. Six timers counting down to zero. Nunzio checked his watch. Barely five-thirty. Still, midnight was looming large for Nunzio Spumoni. As he dropped his hand to his side, he froze. A sound. Coming up the distant tunnel.

  "What was that?" Nunzio hissed hopefully.

  He waved frantically at the four men he had brought down into the sewers with him to come forward. They came to him, guns drawn. All five men peered down the dimly lit tunnel.

  And as Nunzio Spumoni strained to hear, the first sounds of argument carried to his ears.

  "Don't bellyache to me. I told you to watch where you were going."

  "He pushed me," insisted the voice that Nunzio knew could belong to none other than L. Vas Deferens. The East African sounded strangely cowed.

  "Oh, I am to be blamed for your clumsy clubbed feet?" sniffed a third, singsongy voice.

  "You did push him, Little Father."

  "Surprise me one day, Remo, and take my side for once."

  When the men broke into view at the end of the tunnel, Nunzio didn't know whether to be relieved or even more concerned. Defense Minister Deferens was flanked by an old Asian and a young white man. The East African's trademark white suit was dripping wet and stained gray.

  Nunzio remembered the white as the man who had caught Deferens's attention at the Bachsburg restaurant.

  "This isn't about choosing sides," Remo griped. "It's about me having to fish Himmler here out of Shit Creek."

  "I think I am going to be ill," Deferens offered.

  "Shut up," said Remo and Chiun.

  Nunzio was stunned when Deferens actually fell silent. He merely trudged along, his hands clutching his belly, a queasy expression on his sagging model's face.

  "Is everything all right, Vas?" Nunzio ventured as the men closed in. "I tried to call...."

  When Deferens and his companions stopped before Nunzio and his Camorra entourage, Remo's face was a scowl. He appraised Nunzio's reed-thin frame.

  "Who's the praying mantis?" he asked Deferens. "An agent of Camorra," Deferens said, defeated. Nunzio's eyes grew wide beyond his steamed-up goggles.

  "Deferens, what is the meaning of this?" Nunzio demanded, taking a cautious step back. He was comforted by the appearance on both sides of his armed men.

  "Do we need him?" Remo asked, ignoring Nunzio.

  "What? Deferens-"

  "No," the minister said glumly, interrupting the Camorra agent.

  Remo turned to Nunzio. "Wanna see something I saw in a really bad movie once?" he asked. Nunzio's eyes didn't have time to register confusion before Remo's hand shot forward, index and middle fingers extended.

  The plastic of his right goggles lens surrendered to the stiffened fingers. Cracked plastic shards shot back through Nunzio's shocked eye, burying themselves deep in his brain.

  Nunzio Spumoni's legs buckled, and he fell, slipping over the side of the platform. The body struck water with a mighty splash.

  Before the first ripples from Nunzio's bobbing corpse reached the stone walls, the four remaining men opened fire.

  Deferens dropped to his knees, frantically cradling his head in both hands.

  Near the gunmen, Remo launched a toe into the groin of the closest. His pelvis cracked in a sideways smile straight up to his navel. As entrails splattered to stone, Remo shouted to Chiun.

  "Get him out of the way!" he called over his shoulder.

  Deferens only knew that he was the "him" being referred to when he felt a bony hand latch on to the back of his neck. In the next instant, he was airborne. He landed in a spray of filthy water next to Nunzio Spumoni's lifeless body.

  "I hope you are happy," Chiun complained, whirling up beside Remo. He had to avoid a dozen fat automatic slugs. "I had to touch that disgusting creature."

  The flat sole of one sandal lashed out, catching one of the gunmen square in the chest.

  It was as if the thug were struck by a speeding car.

  The man's feet left his shoes, and he rocketed back into the mossy wall of the tunnel, pounding stone with bone-crushing ferocity. When he slid to the floor, a perfect outline of his body was visible in the stone.

  "Don't complain to me," Remo warned.

  "You're the one who pushed him in in the first place."

  Remo brought his hand across the face of one of the two remaining men in a sharp sideways slap. With a tearing pop, the man's jaw sprang free. It skipped across sewer water a half-dozen times before sinking from sight.

  The Camorra agent was all panicked eyes and flapping tongue. Remo finished him with a knuckle to the nose. Bone splinters found brain, and the man fell to the catwalk.

  Realizing th
at the battle was lost, the fourth and final man tried to run past the Master of Sinanju. His body managed to run a few yards along the platform. His head, however, hit the water just below Chiun with a brain-dead splash.

  When Remo turned, the old Korean was flicking a single dollop of blood from one long fingernail. He kept his hands away from his silken robes.

  "We must find a place where I can wash my hands as soon as possible," the old man insisted.

  "First things first," Remo said tightly. "Let's go see if our brown fish floats."

  He hurried past Chiun to the edge of the platform. The current was stronger than it had been that morning, the water deeper. Nunzio Spumoni's body had become wedged on a rusted run-off pipe. Deferens was clinging to the body like a flotation device as filthy water splashed all around him.

  Squatting at the river's edge, Remo frowned. "You gonna fish him out?" he asked the Master of Sinanju.

  "I fished him out last time," Chiun sniffed.

  "I fished him out last time. And besides, you pushed him in last time."

  "Do not bother me with technicalities," Chiun said.

  Deferens heard them bickering. He looked up helplessly, his pale face now ashen. "Save me!" he cried. He retched as a crashing wave filled his open mouth.

  "I'm sick of always having to do all the heavy lifting around here," Remo griped under his breath. He was about to climb down and grab Deferens when he was struck by a flash of inspiration. Jogging to one of the dead gunmen, he stripped off the man's suit jacket. Trotting back down to where Chiun waited above Deferens, Remo dangled one sleeve in front of the defense minister.

  "Grab on tight," Remo called down. "Because I am not coming in after you."

  Blinking greasy water from his eyes, Deferens latched onto the jacket with both hands. Remo hauled him up, depositing him to the catwalk. He was careful to stay out of dripping range.

  As soon as he was safe, Deferens fell to the platform and started vomiting.

  "Bombs or no bombs," Remo said to the Master of Sinanju, ignoring the retching minister. "Next time he goes in the drink, you're pulling him out." He dropped the jacket into the dirty water.

  "I make no promises," Chiun said blandly.

  On the floor, Deferens made a violent puking sound.

  "Oh, knock it off," Remo complained, kicking the defense minister in the side of the head with the heel of one loafer. "You're an East African government official. You should be used to swimming in shit."

  Still retching, Deferens pulled himself to his feet. Clutching his belly with sick fingers, Deferens led the two Sinanju Masters down the tunnel.

  For Remo, the area was becoming more familiar. Both he and the Master of Sinanju detected the radiation in the air even before they came to the entrance of the tunnel down which Remo and Bubu had discovered the first nuclear device.

  The bomb casing had been leaking throughout the day. There was not enough for a lethal dose, yet neither man wished to risk it. Remo and Chiun paused at the mouth of the tunnel as Deferens ducked down it.

  Alone, Deferens hurried to the bomb. The first reckless signs of hope were thudding in his chest. These two men had displayed remarkable abilities, yet something about this bomb was keeping them back.

  His queasiness was fading, rapidly being replaced by calculation. With shaking hands, he popped open the plastic panel on the side of the casing. The LED counter was still ticking remorselessly down to 12:00 midnight.

  They wanted him to shut it down, but they were far enough away that they couldn't see exactly what he was doing.

  Without even touching the panel, Deferens moved his fingers, making a show of disarming the bomb. While he pantomimed, the display continued to race to zero.

  He blinked excitedly, swallowing a rank clump of bile-fueled saliva.

  He would leave this one armed. If he could somehow get away from these two, he might yet be able to flee the city. Thank God that Don Vincenzo had insisted on more than one bomb. At the time, Deferens had thought it foolish, but now...

  Any thought of salvaging his original plan was gone. Nellie Mandobar had inadvertently taken all of his targets to safety. But this was no longer about mere money or power or racial insulation. It was about revenge.

  Maybe he could escape-maybe not. But in the end, it would be L. Vas Deferens who would have the last laugh. For though these two had displayed amazing abilities, Deferens doubted either of them could withstand a nuclear explosion.

  And if he did manage to escape, abandoning these two to the city-leveling blast, Deferens intended to pay Nellie Mandobar a visit. He would teach that mooka bitch a final lesson for ruining his brilliant scheme.

  As he pretended to work, visions of a dead Mrs. Mandobar dancing in his fevered brain, L. Vas Deferens suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of the head.

  He toppled sideways to the floor, blinking bright stars from his eyes. When he pulled himself to his knees, feeling at the sticky blood in his hair, he glanced down the tunnel.

  Remo was still standing next to Chiun, another small rock clutched impatiently in his hand.

  "We know what you're doing, crap-bag, so quit jerking us around and get to work," Remo said threateningly.

  Hope drained away; despair flooded in behind it. Deferens turned woodenly back to the bomb. Soul gutted, he began dutifully punching in the proper disarm code.

  Chapter 34

  The lone sentry patrolled the edge of the dusty bungalow village, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Savannah had been chopped back a dozen yards from the last straggling houses, the better to see approaching enemies. While this worked well in daylight, when the inky darkness of night drew its shroud over Africa, all the world was consumed by menacing shadows.

  The moon was a cloud-masked memory as the guard made his careful way along the well-worn perimeter path.

  Weak spotlights illuminated the distant main street of the village. Insects danced merrily in the glow.

  The sounds of revelry from the far end of the street carried back on the humid air.

  The last of the helicopters had landed nearly three hours ago. Everyone who was supposed to be at Nellie Mandobar's party was already there. As the evening progressed, a few of the guests had retired with hired women to the small houses behind which the guard now walked.

  To break the tedium as he walked the circuit around the bungalows, he had been listening for the sounds of lovemaking. Near the house where he was certain he'd seen Trollop Seasoning enter with three of the caterers, the guard heard the sudden sharp sound of a twig snapping.

  He froze.

  Lifting his boot, he looked down and saw the small brittle branch he'd felt crack beneath his thick sole.

  Of course the sound had come from him. Only Luzus ventured this far out into the wilds of East Africa these days. And even they were miles away.

  When the guard looked back up, his eyes barely registered the flash of metal from out of the night. Somewhere behind it, shadows on a painted face.

  The blade struck his neck, and the world turned briefly upside down before growing completely and eternally black.

  As the guard's body joined his severed head on the dusty African ground, Bubu slipped forward, machete in hand. He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue.

  More armed Luzu natives appeared from the darkness, dressed in the simple loincloths of their ancestors. Among them was Chief Batubizee, his broad face drawn in somber lines.

  No words were spoken.

  On swift silent feet, the Luzu war party moved stealthily into the village, away from Nellie Mandobar's headless guard.

  In the distance, the party roared on.

  Chapter 35

  Their tour of the Bachsburg sewer system at last brought them less than half a city block from the presidential palace. Many of the defense minister's minions still toiled above, oblivious to this particular aspect of their employer's plan.

  Remo and Chiun had met resistance at the first three bomb sites. But as the clock
crawled closer to the midnight deadline, the Camorra men assigned by Nunzio Spumoni to keep watch for the defense minister had bolted. By the last bomb, the two Masters of Sinanju found themselves racing down an empty tunnel.

  Deferens had been finding it impossible to keep up. As a result, Remo and Chiun had clamped onto his arms-one on each side. As they whisked him through the tunnel, the stone walls a blur, Deferens held his breath in fear.

  "I'm gonna have to boil my hands for a month after this," Remo griped as he ran. He held Deferens as far from his own body as possible.

  "Must I remind you that we would not need to rush had you not frittered away much of the day?"

  Chiun replied tightly. His kimono skirts billowed as his pumping legs kept perfect time with his pupil's. Remo held his tongue.

  His internal clock told him that it was past eleven-thirty. Thanks to the unexpected resistance they'd encountered at the other sites, they were half an hour later than expected by the time they reached the last bomb.

  Brackish water pooled in the secluded dead end. Remo and Chiun dumped Deferens in front of the rusted gate through which peeked the stainless-steel bomb casing.

  Deferens didn't need to be told what to do. Grabbing the corroded grate, he pulled it free, leaning it against the stone wall. He squatted in front of the bomb.

  "I hope those Luzu buddies of yours don't jump the gun," Remo commented as the East African worked.

  "The Luzu are a patient people," Chiun replied. "They lived one hundred years in desperation before invoking the contract of Nuk."

  "Maybe," Remo said. "All I know is they had itchy machete fingers yesterday. And if there's a buffet at that party, Batubizee'll lead the charge with a knife and fork."

  "They will wait," Chiun insisted knowingly. "It seems all they are suited for these days." Hunching on the floor, Deferens punched out the disarm code on the touch pad as the two men spoke. Though the East African was shivering, it was not due to cold. Deferens was ill. It had been three bombs since the last time either Remo or Chiun had thrown him in the water, yet he had been growing sicker as the night drew on. His soiled clothes were damp.

  Over soon. All of it.