Encounter Group td-56

by Warren Murphy

  "Here," Pavel said, returning from the kitchen. He had a notepad on which someone had been doodling. In among the doodles were two words, "Broken Arrow."

  Remo read the pad. "Doesn't mean anything to me. Better call Smith."

  "Who's Smith?" Pavel asked.

  The look Remo and Chiun gave him made Pavel wish very, very much that he had not asked that question.

  "I will wait in the next room while you talk," Pavel offered.

  Despite the late hour, Remo got Smith immediately. Remo rattled off the events of the evening as fast as he could. "The only clue we found," he finished, "is a notepad. Someone wrote Broken Arrow on it."

  "Anything else?" Smith asked.

  "No. It's stuck in the middle of some doodles, but they aren't anything."

  "Broken Arrow is a code designation for a serious nuclear accident," Smith said. "The code for a lesser incident is Bent Spear."

  "Then it's just someone scribbling on a notepad," Remo suggested.

  "There's also a town named Broken Arrow in Oklahoma. Near Tulsa, I think."

  "Then we'd better check it out," Remo said.

  "No. You told me you overheard the individual called the World Master issue instructions to place the warhead in Oklahoma City for detonation. You must go there first. Finding that device is everything now, Remo. The newspapers know about the Titan accident now."

  "I thought they already did," Remo said.

  "They had rumors. But I just had information that the New York Times is about to break an eyewitness account of the missile salvage operation. Evidently, a reporter named..." Smith paused and Remo heard a rustle of papers."... Thad Screiber managed to get close to the operation. I don't know where he fits in."

  "He doesn't anymore," Remo said. "He's here. Dead. They killed him."

  "That may be good," Smith decided. "If this whole story gets out, it will galvanize the antinuclear people. They're apt to go overboard and demand we dismantle our defensive missile program."

  "Yeah. Well, that's your worry, Smitty. I'm going to have my hands full finding that warhead and handling Chiun at the same time." Remo lowered his voice and glanced sideways at Chiun, who was peeking into the next room to make sure the Russian wasn't eavesdropping. "Chiun is convinced this World Master had something to do with his ancestors. It's too complicated to explain now, but Chiun wants to be friends with him."

  "Chiun believes this person is what he claims to be?"

  "Yeah. Maybe I do, too. I don't know. But I do know if it comes down to a choice between Oklahoma City and not antagonizing him, I'd get ready to order a new set of wall maps."

  "Hmmm," Smith mused. "Perhaps I'd better recall Chiun to Folcroft. Tell him the sun is setting in the east."

  "Huh? It's not—"

  "That's the code for him to return on his own."

  "Oh," Remo said. "Hey, Chiun, Smith says to tell you that the sun is setting in the east."

  "Tell Emperor Smith he does not have to worry," Chiun called back. "The Master of Sinanju will return when he has finished the Emperor's business."

  "You heard him," Remo told Smith. "He's not budging."

  "Very well," Smith said grimly. "I'm going to count on you, Remo. You must not fail. Locate the warhead and inform me immediately. I'll take care of the rest."

  "What about this Russian?"

  "Did you get his name?"

  "No. Never thought to ask," Remo said. He called into the next room. "Hey, buddy, you got a name?"

  "Ivan Vobla," Pavel called back.

  "His name is Pavel Zarnitsa," Chiun spat. "I heard him called that."

  "Yeah, that's right," Remo said. "This World Master recognized him right off. Called him by name. He can't figure it out himself. He keeps babbling about it."

  "Remo, are you sure?" Smith demanded.

  "Yeah, I am. Why?"

  "I don't know," Smith said slowly. "Let me check my files." There was a pause while Smith called up some information on his computer.

  "Yes, I do have a Pavel Zarnitsa. KGB. Currently stationed in New York City to monitor Russian employees working for Aeroflot. Extremely few people know he is in America..."

  "So what do I do with him?"

  "I don't know where he fits in, but hold on to him. Better yet, tell Chiun that he is responsible for Zarnitsa. That may keep him from interfering with your movements."

  Remo looked over and saw Chiun and the Russian giving each other looks of mutual dislike.

  "I'm sure they're both going to be very happy with your decision," Remo said before he hung up.

  ?Chapter Fifteen

  Amanda Bull was beginning to wonder. She had had questions before, but the World Master had always answered them, and the answers had always dispelled her worries. She had had doubts before, but they were little doubts, and they always went away when she stopped thinking of them.

  They didn't go away this time.

  All during the ride back to Oklahoma City, she had questions and doubts. She could understand that there might be a reason for the World Master's spacecraft to suddenly disintegrate. A malfunction, for instance. Unavoidable, perhaps. She could understand the need to evacuate everyone. There was the danger from Remo, and then the strange man with the gun and the thick accent. Who had he been? And why did the World Master shout that he had ruined everything? There were probably answers to those questions, too. Good, sensible, logical answers. Of that, Amanda had little doubt.

  What really disturbed Amanda did not strike her until after she and the rest of the Preparation Group had been led from the burning barn by the World Master himself. He had seemingly materialized out of the sparks and flames and smoke to take Amanda's hand and lead her out of the blaze through a hole between two boards. The others had followed while Remo and the Oriental were trying to escape themselves. It had been dark, and no one could see very clearly. Except the World Master. It had been he who made them all link hands and who led them to the waiting van. It had been he who had ordered the others to take the van, while pushing himself and Amanda into that reporter's car, which was parked nearby, and instructed them all to drive as fast as possible to Oklahoma City. All that made sense, and so Amanda followed orders as she always did.

  But what was strange, and what did not hit home until they were on the road and clearly going to escape pursuit, was that the World Master seemed to have no trouble breathing in the Earth's atmosphere.

  Amanda looked into the rearview mirror for the sixth time. Even in the darkness of a country road she could see that the individual who occupied the rear seat of the car was not wearing a helmet of any kind. He didn't have a breathing mask, either. That was clear. As for the face of the World Master, it had frightened Amanda horribly the first time she had looked into the mirror, and she almost lost control of the car. But, as if she were at a freak show, she couldn't resist another look, and then still another, until the shadowy face hovering behind her in the dark seemed like an image out of a horror movie— scary, but familiar.

  "Can— can you breathe okay?" Amanda asked.

  The voice that answered was no longer thin and high, but a sinister baritone. It said:

  "Be silent, stupid woman. You have failed miserably."

  "But... I tried," Amanda wailed.

  "And failed. There is no excuse. I should not have entrusted such responsibility to a mere woman."

  "Mere... But you said that—"

  "I said be silent!"

  And Amanda began to cry.

  * * *

  "Stop this vehicle, Remo," the Master of Sinanju demanded.

  "Now? Chiun, we've got to catch these people before they get to the city."

  "I no longer wish to sit back here with this Russian pervert," Chiun spat.

  "Then climb over the seat."

  "I will not climb over the seat like a child. Stop this car so that one may change his seat with dignity."

  Remo braked the car. Chiun, gathering his robes about him, stepped out of the back and took the se
at next to Remo, who got going again.

  "Oklahoma City is about to be blown to chalk dust, and you have to change seats," Remo complained.

  Chiun sniffed. "Emperor Smith may have entrusted this Russian prisoner to my keeping, but that does not mean I am forced to listen to a recitation of his filthy habits."

  "What filthy habits?" Remo asked, eyeing Pavel Zarnitsa in the rearview mirror. Zarnitsa looked sheepish sitting all by himself.

  "His filthy eating habits," Chiun told him.

  Pavel, hearing this, leaned forward eagerly and protested. "I have not filthy habits," he insisted. "I was simply discussing my appreciation for that wonderful American delicacy, the taco."

  Chiun made a disgusted noise.

  "Tacos?" Remo said in surprise.

  "Yes, they are some horrible food made with meat and spices," Chiun explained to Remo.

  "I know what they are," Remo said. "I just never heard anyone call them a delicacy before."

  "Well, they are not. And if this Russian's description is accurate, they are not even food." Chiun lowered his voice. "He told me that when he eats one, his nose runs and his stomach burns. He told me those were the reasons he likes to eat them," Chiun confided.

  "I am hungry," Pavel complained. "If we find the warhead soon, could we stop for tacos?"

  "I will kill this Russian before I will allow myself to be a witness to his perverted acts," Chiun said loudly enough for Pavel to hear.

  The sun began to rise, flooding the eastern sky with hot red light. It was a pretty sight, but it made Remo think of a nuclear explosion in slow motion, so he drove faster.

  * * *

  The truck with the warhead was where it was supposed to be. Parked in front of FOES headquarters, it might have been any unmarked delivery van except for the black blots on each side where the nuclear radiation symbols had been painted out.

  The two people who had driven the weapon-carrying van jumped out of the truck with relief when Amanda and the others joined them.

  "We've got trouble," Amanda told them both in a grim voice. "The World Master says to ditch the FOES van somewhere. Anywhere. It's known."

  The driver nodded and took the van down the street, and came back on foot several minutes later.

  "Good," Amanda said. "Now everyone get inside and wait in the office."

  Amanda got back into the car, biting her lip. It was growing light now, and the air had that early morning coolness that Amanda loved as a child but hardly ever experienced anymore.

  "They still accept your orders. Good," the World Master said.

  Amanda did not face him. Instead, she spoke with her face averted, as if to deny his existence at the same time that she held a conversation with him.

  "That Remo will be following us," Amanda said.

  "Yes. He is dangerous. Very dangerous. The old Oriental is not. He believes whatever I tell him. But we must deal with this Remo for our plan to succeed."

  "You— you still intend to detonate the warhead," Amanda said flatly.

  "It is the only way now. For the American people to be made to call for the removal of all nuclear weapons, it will take an unforgettable demonstration. This will take time. I cannot activate the warhead without time and tools."

  "Broken Arrow?" Amanda asked, holding back tears.

  "Yes, the location I have told you about. It is fortunate that I had prepared this place for an emergency such as this. You know where it will be found from the description I gave you. Order the others to drive the warhead to that location."

  "What— what about me?"

  "You will remain here, waiting. This Remo will arrive soon. It will be your job to let him locate you. Once that is done, you will convince him that the warhead is in this city and that you will lead him to it. When he is off his guard, you will kill him. Are these instructions clear to you, Preparation Group Leader Bull?"

  The voice, so different from the one Amanda had been used to taking orders from, sounded macabre and cynical asking that question. But Amanda answered as she always had.

  "Yes, I understand that part. What about the Oriental?"

  "Kill him, too."

  "That man who said he was claiming your ship for his government— the one with the accent. What about him?" Amanda asked woodenly.

  The World Master paused for so long before he answered that Amanda was about to repeat the question.

  "If Pavel Zarnitsa is with them, then he must die, too. For he may have ruined everything."

  ?Chapter Sixteen

  It was all up to her now, Amanda told herself as she stared out the window of FOES headquarters and watched the van carrying the warhead disappear from sight. She felt ill, and the illness was nothing less than a raw fear, but she steeled herself. There were doubts and questions in her mind. There were things that didn't add up anymore, and seemed as if they could never add up. It was possible that the World Master had lied to her about certain things— lied to them all, in fact. There was no escaping that.

  But he was still the World Master, Amanda believed. He was still the emissary of a wonderful civilization from far beyond the stars, come to bring peace to this war-torn planet. If he had lied at times, or if his methods seemed harsh, then it was only because his goal was so important. It was justifiable, Amanda told herself. Yes, when it came to saving the Earth from self-destruction, then the end truly justified the means.

  Even if that meant obliterating Oklahoma City when the time came.

  She had been foolish to doubt the World Master. Why, hadn't he told her that he would be leaving for his Broken Arrow headquarters by himself? Through a method of travel that didn't involve cars or any other vehicles? Yes, that was what he had said. And there on the street below sat the car in which Amanda had left him sitting. See? He didn't need it to get where he was going.

  "Teleportation," Amanda said aloud. "I'll bet he's going by teleportation. Sure! If they can do it on 'Star Trek,' they can do it on—"

  Amanda's voice choked off. Below, the huddled figure of the World Master surreptitiously left the back of the car and slipped into the driver's seat.

  The car left the curb, dragging a long worm of exhaust in its trail.

  * * *

  "If you don't know where to look," Pavel Zarnitsa was saying, "how are you going to find the nuclear device before it goes off?"

  "I know where to look," Remo said, as they drove through the streets of Oklahoma City. "It's somewhere in this town."

  "This is not a small place," Pavel pointed out.

  "We'll find it," Remo insisted.

  "How?" Chiun whispered to him. "We'll find it," Remo repeated unconvincingly.

  "Try the ENEMIES office," Chiun suggested.

  "FOES. Not ENEMIES. FOES."

  Chiun shrugged. "There is a difference?"

  Remo parked in front of the Stigman Building, where the offices of the Flying Object Evaluation Center were. He was tired of visiting the place, and it was probably a waste of time, but he had no other logical place to look for a warhead. As the Russian had rightly said, Oklahoma City was a big place.

  "You stay here with him, Chiun," Remo said, indicating the Russian.

  "Yes," Chiun agreed. "I will protect this vehicle. With his taste, this one may attempt to eat the seats."

  Remo went up the steps to the office. Before he opened the door, his sensitive nostrils detected an odor familiar to him. A human odor that was a distinctive blend of soap and shampoo mingled with perspiration, which itself was distinctive because it was the product of an individual's unique physiological makeup and dietary habits.

  The blonde. Amanda Bull.

  Remo eased the door open. The room beyond was empty. With a supple grace, he worked his way through the crack in the door and closed it soundlessly. The door leading to the inner office was ajar. Remo made for it. He might have been a wisp of cigarette smoke floating through the room for all the sound he made.

  Amanda Bull was waiting for him.

  "Oh," she s
aid. "You surprised me." Her voice sounded odd. Remo couldn't tell why at first, then it came to him. She wasn't using her I'm-the-boss-here-and-you-better-know-it voice. She was acting.

  "Yeah, I do that a lot," Remo told her, looking for weapons. Her hands were empty, but she stood with her right hand against her hip and slightly back. It was not calm, nor did it exhibit any of the expected nervous habits people showed with their hands. It hovered. There was a weapon at the small of her back.

  "Well, I guess you got me," Amanda said.

  "Guess so." Remo got to within a few paces of her.

  "Uh... I suppose you want to know where it is?" Amanda said.

  "That's right," Remo said quietly.

  "It's here— in Oklahoma City, that is. Hidden where no one can find it."

  "Except you?" Remo suggested.

  "Yes, except me. I guess I'll have to take you to it."

  "Good idea," Remo said. "Why don't you lead the way?"

  Amanda began to lead Remo to the door, but Remo caught her elbow and, using his own body as a pivot, swept her half around and pushed her back against the desk. She hit the edge of the desk with the small of her back and said, "Oof," when the impact forced the air from her lungs.

  Remo was against her body before she could react, his left arm catching her right, and his right hand found the gun holstered at the small of her back. He felt it, threw the safety to the "on" position but left it there.

  "What... what are you doing?" Amanda demanded hotly.

  Remo didn't answer. His deep eyes gazed into her gray ones, and Amanda felt a shiver course through her body that was less one of fear than it was a sexual reflex. She had never felt anything like the electricity that seemed to jump from Remo's finger to her body. Involuntarily, her breathing increased.

  Remo's lips found hers before she could protest— if in fact she intended to protest. His tongue darted out and, closing her eyes, Amanda's mouth yielded, tasted, and replied in kind.