Profit Motive td-48

by Warren Murphy

  "I am sure Your Excellency will be just," Chiun

  said.

  The sheik pointed to Bull.

  "You. In the cowboy suit. Get up here."

  Bull stepped forward cautiously.

  "You are in charge of that army?"

  "Not me," Bull said. He pointed to Remo. "He was. I didn't want to fight. I never wanted to fight. I'm a salesman who believes in peace. Peace forever. Sheik, I want to talk to you sometime about those swords and spears. I can personally provide you with some modern equipment. The best that money can buy."

  "We have no money," the sheik said.

  "That's ridiculous," Bull said. "This is Hamidi Arabia. Everybody has money."

  "We have none," Fareem said.

  "As an American citizen, I demand my rights. I de-

  mand to be released immediately. Washington will hear of..."

  "Silence," the sheik roared. He mulled something over for a moment, then said, "I order you to leave this area and take those poor excuses of soldiers with you. March them back to Nehmad and never return."

  "I don't plan to," Bull said. "But if you ever get any money and want to talk about..."

  "Be gone," the sheik ordered. As Bull left the tent, Fareem called one of his guards forward and whispered into his ear. Then he leaned over to Chiun and spoke softly to him. Chiun smiled.

  "What'd he say?" Remo asked.

  "He said your general is a man with a great deal of foolish pride. He will remove some of that pride."

  Remo saw Fareem's guard leave the tent, but relaxed when he heard no screams from outside.

  "What happened to Ganulle, anyway?" Remo asked Chiun.

  "He will be set free."

  "He tried to kill the sheik," Remo said.

  "He will be set free," Chiun said. "He is on his way now, under guard, to the place where he will be set free. A hundred miles out into the barren dessert. The sheik has told him that he wanted to be a ruler and now he can. He can rule empty sand, if he wishes, and pray for rain."

  The sheik crooked his finger, and Melody Wakefield was pushed forward. Her typewriter still hung around her neck.

  "What is to be done with this countrywoman of yours?" the sheik asked Remo.

  Remo shrugged. "You can't cut off her hands. Somebody already did that. And she tried to seduce my soldiers. I'm supposed to decide whether she gets stoned or sent into slavery."

  The sheik looked at the woman. "She prostitutes her body as she does the truth. I think she should ..."

  He was interrupted by a sound from the tent opening. Suddenly Zantos pushed her way past the guards

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  and ran up to the sheik's throne. She threw herself on the ground at his feet.

  "Oh, Noble One, I plead for my husband's life," she cried.

  Remo leaned over to Chiun. "She doesn't even like the guy," he said.

  "No, but she is his wife, and it is her obligation to try to keep him alive. Some people live up to their obligations. Other people ignore them. Mostly whites. Whites don't like obligations."

  "Knock it off," Remo growled in Korean.

  "Rise, my daughter," said the sheik. "Your husband . . . my son, is not worth your pleas. He is not worth one tear from your eye."

  "He is my husband, Excellency."

  The sheik nodded, then roared, "Abdul, get up here."

  Hesitantly, the fat man shuffled forward to stand before his father, head bowed.

  "You are no son of mine," Fareem said. "You have no heart, no body, no talent, no courage, no strength."

  "I am..." Abdul stammered.

  "Silence. All you have that is of value is this wife, who is much too good for you. But because I love her, I will heed her pleas and spare your life. Abdul. Zan-tos. Look at me."

  They both raised their faces to him. "You are now to be divorced. As your sheik, I command it. Abdul, perform the ceremony."

  "But..."

  "Do as I say."

  Abdul turned to the beautiful green-eyed woman. "Woman, I do divorce you. Woman, I do divorce you. Woman, I do divorce you." He turned back to the sheik. "Father, it is done."

  "Good. Now, Abdul, you are banished from here. You are banished from my sight. I disinherit, I disown, I disclaim you. You are, in my eyes, dead, and if you are ever in my eyes again, you will be fully dead. Do you understand?"

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  "Yes, Father."

  "You may never call me 'Father' again. There is a parting gift I have for you." He turned toward Melody and said, "Woman with the tongue of snakes, stand by him."

  She moved over uncertainly next to Abdul.

  "I now pronounce you wed. This woman is your wife, Abdul. She is your responsibility. She has the body and mind of a prostitute, and you are a prostitute of the spirit. You belong with each other." He laughed bitterly. "The happy couple may now leave."

  They stumbled toward the entrance to the tent, and Remo heard Melody say, "Wow, a prince for a husband. I wish Grandpapa could have lived to see this. And he always thought I'd need tits to get a husband. Glory to Islam."

  Fareem touched Zantos's arm. "You are free, child," he said. "No shame attaches to you."

  "Thank you, sire," she said. She bowed, and as she raised her head to turn away, she glanced toward Remo and winked.

  "And now, if your son will leave us . . ." Fareem told Chiun.

  "Be gone, Remo," said Chiun.

  "Just like that? Be gone?"

  "Yes. Be gone," Chiun said.

  Remo walked outside. As he pased Reva Bleem, she said, "You stink as a soldier." Once out in the sand, Remo understood how Sheik Fareem had decided to punish General Bull's false pride, because the general was now leading the hundred remaining soldiers of the Hamidi army back toward Nehmad. They were on foot, and except for shoes, they were all naked. The sheik's men had stripped them bare.

  Remo chuckled to himself, then looked up toward the road and saw Oscar leaning against the parked Rolls Royce.

  And he wondered why the sheik hadn't brought Oscar in along with everybody else. Why did Oscar always stay by the car? Remo decided to find out.

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  Behind him, he could hear the faint buzz of voices as Reva talked with the sheik and with Chiun. Remo strolled off, away from the oasis, toward the Rolls Royce. Oscar looked up when he saw Remo approaching.

  "How'd you escape?" Remo asked. Oscar shrugged, and Remo realized he had never heard the man talk.

  "No, really," Remo said. "Why didn't the sheik bring you in with everybody else?"

  "I don't know. Go away. Miz Bleem doesn't like people hanging around her car." "Why not? I bet she's got lots of cars." "Listen you, you going to get out of here or not?" "No."

  "I don't know why you're supposed to be so special. You don't look special to me," Oscar said.

  "You know what I think? I think that maybe you hang around this car 'cause there's something here worth hanging around for."

  "I don't care what you think," Oscar said. "I just want you out of here." "So let's take a look," Remo said. Oscar reached out his arm as Remo pulled open the front passenger door. Remo brushed the arm aside as if it were a blade of grass. He leaned into the car and opened the wood-fronted glove compartment.

  Oscar came up behind him and wrapped his big arms around Remo's chest. He jerked upward to lift Remo off his feet and toss him off into the sand.

  But Remo did not move. Instead Oscar's grip loosened with the force of his jerk, and he stumbled backward. He lost his balance and wound up sitting in the sand himself.

  "But that'd be stupid," Remo said. "You wouldn't be hiding anything in the glove compartment. I've been riding in this car for a couple of days. I might have looked. Where are the trunk keys?"

  He turned around and saw Oscar sitting on the ground.

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  "What are you doing there?" he said. "Give me the trunk keys."

  Oscar scrambled to his feet, brushed himself off, and said, "Not a chance." He assumed a fighting position, te
gs spread, hands balled iato fists, arms raised in front of Mm. He waited for Remo to attack.

  "Come on, fella, give me the keys. I hate to mess up a Rolls Royce."

  "You better get ost of kere before I get mad," Oscar said.

  Remo shrugged. "Have it your own way." He walked to the trunk of the car, grabbed the old-fashioned turn handle, and yanked upward.

  The trunk lid squealed, and there was a snapping sound as the heavy-duty steel lock gave way and the lid flew open. Remo leaned into the trunk.

  Oscar charged and let fly two powerful blows to the middle of Remo's back.

  Remo said, "Now let's see what we've got in here."

  Oscar took a stance behind Remo and set himself up as if he were ready to strike a punch-o-meter machine in an amusement park. Putting all 250 pounds of his body behind his blow, he crashed his fist into Remo's right kidney.

  He felt his knuckles break.

  Remo still stood there, leaning into the truck, rooting around. AU he saw were the styrofoam-wrapped cartons of liquor that Reva Bleem had insisted upon bringing to Hamidi Arabia.

  "I wonder," Remo said. Oscar had recoiled, holding his broken right hand in his left hand. Remo started to open the tops of the gray metal liquor boxes. The first three held Lazzaroni Amaretto. But the fourth had no liquor. Instead it held another small styrofoam box. Remo opened it and pulled out a test tube stoppered with a cork; the junction between cork and bottle was sealed with wax.

  He turned toward Oscar.

  "What have we here?" Remo said.

  "Give me that," said Oscar. With his left hand he

  grabbed for the test tube, but Remo snatched it back out of his reach. He replaced it in the small styrofoam container and put the lid back on.

  "You've had this all along, haven't you?" Remo said. Oscar didn't answer. "But why the hell didn't sweet little Reva just give it to the sheik? Why all the crap about waiting for it to arrive? Why'd she tell me that if the sheik got it, it was going to ruin her? Why'd she bring it here? Why didn't she just bury it if she wanted to keep it away from the sheik? And if she didn't want to keep it away from him, why didn't she just give it to him? Are you going to talk, or are you just going to stand there holding your hand?"

  "Miz Bleem doesn't tell me what she's thinking," Oscar said.

  "She'll tell me," Remo said. He walked away, holding the container of rapid-breeder bacteria under his arm. "You better get that hand checked," he called back to Oscar. "It looks broken to me."

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  Chapter Twelve

  "The rapid-breeder bacterium has arrived," Reva Bleem said.

  "Where is it?" asked Sheik Fareem.

  "In my car."

  "Bring it and we will use it," Fareem said. "If we needed an illustration of how low the Hamidis have fallen because of oil, we certainly received one today."

  Reva nodded. "But the American?" she said.

  "What about him?" Fareem asked.

  She turned to Chiun. "Will you let him live?"

  "Why not?" Chiun said. "His prowess as leader of an army threatens no one."

  "But he could be a danger to our plan to use the bacteria," she said.

  "He lives," Chiun said.

  Reva shook her head. "After what he said about you too."

  "What did he say?" Chiun asked.

  "He said that he was going to kill you. That you were too old to matter anymore and that he was going to kill you to teach you a lesson. He said he didn't like Orientals anyway."

  "This is very serious," Fareem said, glancing at Chiun.

  The old Korean nodded. "Yes, it is. I will take care of him."

  "When?" asked Reva.

  "Now," said Chiun.

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  They were met outside Fareem's tent by Oscar, who was still holding his battered hand. "He took it away from me, Miz Bleem. He took it away."

  Chiun led them to Remo's tent, on the far side of the oasis. Remo heard them coming. He was lying on his sleeping mat.

  "Remo," he heard Chiun call.

  "What do you want?" he yelled back.

  "Where is it?" Chiun called.

  "Safe. Where nobody can touch it," Remo said.

  "You have it in there with you, don't you?" Chiun called.

  "No, I hid it," Remo said.

  He crossed his arms on his chest and chuckled to himself. Let Chiun look. Let him try to find the tube of bacteria under the sand where Remo had stashed it. Thousands of square miles of sand. Let Chiun look. His side may have won the battle, but Remo had won the war. The bacterium was safe, out of the reach of Chiun and Fareem.

  "Heh, heh, heh, heh," Remo muttered, loud enough for Chiun to hear. Let him look. "Heh, heh, heh, heh."

  It would be impossible to find. Remo had been careful. Exactly fifteen paces away from the corner of his tent, due west, and buried under two feet of sand, then smoothed over. Not a trace for anybody. Not even Chiun.

  Remo decided to nap for a while. It felt good to win something every so often, particularly against Chiun. Let Chiun look. Not even the Master of Sinanju could find that test tube where he had hidden it. It would stay there until he was ready to go back and deliver it to Smith. He had saved the Western world. He had. Remo Williams. He wished the nuns at the orphanage in Newark could see him now. They had always thought he wouldn't amount to anything, and here he had saved the world. And no one could stop him now. Not even Chiun.

  Of course, he couldn't. Not even Chiun.

  No, he couldn't do a thing about it.

  Not even Chiun.

  Remo couldn't sleep. He got up and walked to the entrance to his tent.

  And there, striding across the sand, holding the white styrofoam box under his arm, was Chiun. Walking behind him were Reva and the sheik. Remo started after them.

  "Chiun," he called out.

  "What?" Chiun asked without turning.

  "How'd you find it?"

  "I looked where you put it."

  "How'd you know where that was?"

  "You left your big hoofprints all over the sand," Chiun said. "It was not difficult."

  Remo caught up with them as Chiun, Fareem, and Reva passed one of the small springs in the oasis. He looked at Chiun across the small bright, sparkling pool.

  "Chiun, you've got to give that back. We've got to take it home with us."

  "No," said Fareem. "It is our chance to make our country free again."

  "I am sorry, Remo," said Chiun. "But it is my obligation."

  As he spoke, Chiun opened the top of the foam box and pulled out the test tube. He looked at it and dropped the halves of the box onto the sand. With a sudden wrench, he snapped the cork from the tube.

  "Chiun, no!" Remo yelled. He started around the small pond of water.

  But he was too late. Chiun had dropped the tube into the small drinking pool.

  "It is all an underground system, Remo," he said. "From here, this anaerobic will find its way to the underground oil, and from there it will do its work."

  Remo stopped and looked down at the crystal waters of the pool. As he watched, he saw tiny churnings in the water and then, before his eyes,-a lump of white wax was formed that looked as if it had been broken off the base of a thick, half-burned candle. The white blob just floated on top of the pond.

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  Remo reached down and picked it up. It lay cold and motionless in his hand. He looked up at Chiun, then squeezed the white glob in his hand, and it cracked into pieces and fell back into the pond. It floated there, not moving, not expanding, still as death.

  "Water kills it," Remo said. "Water kills it."

  Chiun squatted by the side of the pool and let some of the water sift through his fingers.

  "That island was surrounded by water," he said. "Why did that not kill it and stop its spread?"

  "I don't know," Remo said.

  Chiun raised his fingers to his mouth and tasted of them. "It is nothing," he said. "It is only water."

  Remo tasted the water too
.

  "Chiun, that's it. That's exactly it. It's pure water. The island was surrounded by salt water. But this is pure water. Pure. That's what kills it."

  He stood up, as did Chiun, and they looked at each other across the six-foot-wide pond.

  "You have caused me to fail in my mission," Chiun said solemnly.

  "My pleasure," Remo said.

  "This cannot be allowed to exist between us," Chiun said.

  "If you say so."

  "We will meet in battle to settle all," Chiun said.

  "What?" asked Remo.

  "Tonight. At sundown. Over there." He pointed back into the oasis. "Under that large tree."

  "Are you kidding?" Remo said, but the look on Chiun's face was grim.

  "Be there," Chiun said. "Do not make me come to get you."

  He turned away and strode off into the trees of the

  oasis.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  The oasis had been cleared. At Chiun's order, no one was allowed there to witness the battle.

  The sun was just disappearing below the sand hüls to the west when Remo stepped into a cool, tree-surrounded glade in the center of the oasis. Far off, through the trees, he could see people standing, straining to see what was going on. He saw the sheik and, next to him, Reva Bleem.

  But where was Chiun?

  "I am here, Remo," a voice said softly.

  Remo spun. Chiun stood behind him, wearing a midnight-blue brocaded kimono with ornamental bead-work over the shoulders.

  "Are we really going through with this?" Remo said.

  "Of course not," Chiun said. "Quick. Kick at me."

  Remo leaped into the air and pushed a kick out at Chiun, but the small Oriental swirled away from under the kick and was behind Remo as Remo came down.

  They circled each other warily.

  "What are we doing here?" Remo asked.

  "Don't you know anything? We are trying to find out who is behind that anaerobic."

  Chiun spun high into the air, twirling like a top. His robe spread out around his slim form, shielding the outline of his legs and arms from the sight of a potential victim. Then he lashed out with a hand. Remo slid back from the deadly fingertips, and Chiun's hand smashed into the side of a foot-thick palm. The tree

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  cracked. Remo heard it creaking and then dropping down behind him.

  "I think the woman is an assassin sent by our enemy," Chiun said. They continued to circle.