"Heh, heh," he said. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything. Heh, heh, heh. This is the room that ordered the duck, right?"
"Right," said Remo.
"Of course," said the bellboy as if it figured. "Boiled with rice, as per your instructions."
"Right," said Remo again. "I'll take it in."
"Of course," the bellboy likewise repeated. "Whatever turns you on." He leered toward Viki and winked at Remo.
Remo pulled the cart into the room, pivoted, and with his hip closed the door on the bellboy's outstretched hand.
"Ow," said the bellboy. "Why'd you do that?"
"It's what turns me on," said Remo.
He wheeled the cart over in between the beds, seeing Chiun's eyes open and a massive wet spot across Viki's Federation torso.
"Did you take a shower with your uniform on?" he asked.
Viki slid her hands across her body, realizing for the first time how much she was perspiring.
"Uh, no," she said, smiling nervously. "It, it was very hot in my room." She hoped her hand did not show or else she would have to play it.
"Well, come and get it," said Remo pleasantly. He lifted the cover and, surprisingly, steam rose to the ceiling. In his hotel experiences, the food usually got to the room ice cold. Except for the iced water, of course, which was warm.
"Smells good," said Chiun, rising from his mat as smoothly as the rising steam.
"It smells bland," said Remo.
"Bland in American means good," Chiun instructed Viki. "It is their way of saying I can eat this without boiling my taste buds, curdling my insides, or blocking my passages. Do you want to know what bad means?"
Viki was not buying. She backed up behind the bed and sat down, crossing her legs to bring her hem up.
"Bad means anything that tastes good," said Remo from the other bed, dishing out the duck, "Bad means spicy, bad means fried, bad is Italian, Jewish, French, Mexican, or Chinese cooking."
"Especially Chinese," said Chiun, taking a full plate from Remo's outstretched hand. "See how easy it is to learn when you listen?"
Remo dished up another hearty portion.
"Here," he said to Viki. "You're a growing girl. Eat." He stuck the plate out to her.
This is it, Viki thought. This is their plan. They had gotten their instructions from the Smith guy. They could not get anything from her so now they were going to kill her just like they killed her mother and her father. But they knew she was too big and too smart to attack directly so they were going to poison her.
Yes, that was it. They were going to knock her out with a drug in the food. Then, when she was helpless, they would use her voluptuous body any way they chose and prepare her for her last place in the branches.
This was it. She was ready. This was it. She would have to play her hand. This was it. She was prepared. This was it.
Viki swung her arm, smacking the plate from Remo's hand, the duck spinning onto the floor and the rice spreading through the air like confetti. Remo watched the plate drop to the rug and Chiun caught the falling portion of duck and put it on his dish.
Viki reached up her dress with her other hand, struggled for a moment, then pulled a snub-nosed .38 revolver from between her legs.
"No," she screamed. "You won't get me. Your plan won't work, Mr. Remo Nichols or whoever you are. Your murder spree is coming to an end right here and now."
She stopped yelling because Remo was not listening to her. He was dishing out another plate of food.
"You hear me?" Viki screamed. "You killed my parents and now I am going to kill you."
"Did not," said Remo from the bed.
"You did. Don't deny it. I know all about your Rye spy ring."
Remo looked up. "All right, kill me. Can I eat first?"
Viki felt as if she was going crazy. Her body began to shake and her skin turned cold. She tried very hard to keep her arms steady.
"No. You can't eat first. You did not let my mother eat before you cut her throat and ripped her skin from her bones and put her up in a tree."
"He would not have done that," Chiun spoke up indignantly. "He would have killed her quickly and left her there."
"Thanks for all your help," said Remo.
"It is nothing," said Chiun.
"Shut up. Both of you." Viki wailed hysterically, her hair flapping against her wet cheeks. "I just wanted you to know that I knew. Now you will die."
Remo shrugged. "If we must, we must." Chiun started to eat.
Viki stared at them in horror, as if she were just beginning to realize that the man seated before her was just seconds away from becoming a torn and bloody hunk of meat. That, seconds from now, she would put a bullet through his body that would tear through his skin and rip out his organs. That blood would spurt out, soaking into the carpet. That his sphincters would open all at once, staining his clothes and filling the lysol-protected room with a nauseating thick smell.
Viki pushed the gun in front of her body with both hands, centering it on Remo's collarbone and pulled the trigger.
A huge, clapping boom filled the room, then, automatically, as her father had taught her, she swung the gun to the next target. She centered the gun on the tiny Oriental's stomach and again pulled the trigger.
The two booms of air, rushing back down the barrel after the lead projectile, traveling faster than sound, moved out, overlapped. Viki shivered and waited until her eyes cleared.
"She did that very well," said Remo, munching on the duck.
"Yes," Chiun replied, also eating. "She is a very clever girl. Did you notice that when she could not divide us, she decided to kill us together at a time of natural weakness?"
Viki stood rooted to the spot. Her gun stayed out before her as she stared at Remo who was now hunched on the bed's pillow, and Chiun who sat six inches back from where he had been a moment ago.
On the end of the bed the cover had been scarred by an ugly black powder burn. Between Chiun's crossed legs and his plate was a small, smoking hole.
It was not possible, Viki thought. I had them pegged. They could not have gotten out of the way of a bullet fired point blank.
Automatically Viki swung to where Remo was now sitting, centered her sights between his eyes and pulled the trigger twice. Without waiting, she swung back to Chiun, blasted at his chest, then, just to be on the safe side, moved her sights up to where the top of his head should have been. She fired again.
"Her stance is solid, her aim is good, and she holds the gun so it will offer the least bucking," said Remo from the room's writing desk. "But she's holding it out instead of down at the hip. She's the second with that problem, today."
"She is not perfect," said Chiun, still sitting, still eating. "Or else why should she be using a gun? However, she shows great promise."
Viki looked at the back of the bed. Two bullet holes had splintered the wood where Remo's head should have been. Where his head was was at the writing desk, shyly smiling.
Chiun was now back to his original position. The only damage Viki could see was the spider web of cracked glass in the window beyond. But she had little doubt that just behind the Korean was another smoking bullet hole.
Slowly, in an unbelieving daze, Viki backed up. She was ready to bolt, expecting the two to charge her any second.
When they did not, she slowly let the empty gun drop from her fingers, turned, and calmly walked out the door.
Remo turned to Chiun. "I had better go get her."
"Let her be," said Chiun. "She will soon realize that we were with her at the time of her mother's death. She will return. Come, eat the duck. It is less bad than usual."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Viki did not return. She did not return for the rest of that night or the rest of that morning or even for the rest of the next afternoon.
Remo trotted around Houston twice but found neither hide nor hair of her. No one else he talked to had seen her either. And how many beautiful brunettes in Star Trek uniforms were there in Hou
ston?
When he returned to the hotel room Chiun was standing with his back to the door, looking out on the city through the bullet-shattered window.
As Remo took off his shoes, Chiun said: "It is truly wondrous what man has wrought in the short time that is his history."
"Is that the first line of your daytime drama?" Remo asked irritably. "Remo Williams, Remo Williams?"
"They have created toys to kill for them," Chiun continued. "Machines that destroy countries for centuries as in the Land of Herod. Living things smaller than one strand of a fly's wing that can kill an entire army as in your laboratories."
"You mean nuclear weapons and germ warfare?"
Chiun turned. "All toys to keep from learning oneself."
"Great, little father. Thank you. History lecture over now?"
"You are upset, my son."
"And you're depressing."
"You did not find the clever girl?"
"No. She may have taken a bus. Though for the life of me, I don't know where she kept her money in that outfit."
"Or perhaps she walked into the desert."
"Yeah. Or maybe she hitched a ride into Mexico."
"Or found a friendly sanctuary."
"Or an unfriendly sanctuary."
"Or is even now returning here."
"No matter," said Remo. "I'll just sic Smitty onto her. If anybody can find her, he can."
Remo went into the bathroom. The phone rang.
Remo came out of the bathroom and answered it, face dripping.
"Hello?"
"If you want to see Victoria Angus again," said a grating voice. "Listen carefully."
"Good timing," said Remo. "Who says I want to see her again?"
There was a short pause then the grating voice continued.
"If you care about Victoria Angus, you'll listen."
"Who says I care? She wasn't very nice to me last night."
"Are you going to listen or are we going to kill her?"
"You mean I have a choice?"
"If you don't listen, she's a dead girl."
"So I don't have a choice after all," Remo said.
"You come to Texas Solly's Vine Square slaughterhouse in half an hour and we'll talk. Come alone or the broad's dead."
"I wasn't planning to bring a date."
The connection was broken. Remo pressed down the receiver button and touch-toned the number of the Folcroft Sanitarium in Rye, New York. There were another eight rings and Smith answered.
"Hello, Smitty. I just got a call."
"So did I. What was your call about?"
"Probably the poisoners. They have Viki Angus and want me to walk into a trap to save her. What was your call about?"
"We think we traced the source of the poison in the meat," said Smith.
"Oh?"
"Yes. We went over Angus' last report and it's apparent now the toughness of the meat around the USDA stamp was caused by the poison."
Remo whistled. "So all I have to do is wipe out the Department of Agriculture, right?"
"There's a government inspector at every packing plant," Smith said. "It wouldn't be hard to run in a ringer."
"And at slaughterhouses too?" Remo asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"Never mind. I'll be in touch." Remo hung up.
"Little father, I have some business to attend to."
"Remo," said Chiun, unmoving. "I know, I know. You don't want me to go, right? These vampires will be there and they'll cut my hand again and stick in a straw and suck out my soul like a McDonald's shake, right?"
"No," said Chiun wearily.
"Oh. So you want to come too? You want to help your poor, uneducated pale piece of a pig's ear through his time of crisis?"
"No."
"No?" Remo was surprised. "No?" Remo was amazed, slightly worried and a little bit hurt.
"No," repeated Chiun. "Go with peace, my son. Remember what I have taught you. You are ready. Represent Sinanju."
Chiun turned back to the window. His head was bowed as if in silent prayer. Suddenly he looked small in the big Hilton hotel room and the bright gray mass of Houston stretching beyond.
Remo did not like him looking that way. "Hey, Little Father. There's nothing to worry about."
And when Chiun did not answer; Remo asked:
"Is there?"
"Nothing, my son," came the small, dead Oriental voice. "It is day, so beware the shimmering mists. When night falls, beware the darkest shadows. Go, my son."
Remo nodded slowly to the old man's back, then moved toward the door. Perhaps Chiun would feel better when Remo got back with Viki.
"Remo."
Remo turned to see Chiun facing him. "I have no doubt of you," Chiun said. Remo nodded. "Don't have any doubts, Little Father. And when I get back, then we'll figure out how we're going to take the television world by storm with your new daytime drama."
"I have no doubt of you," Chiun repeated. The door closed behind Remo and he drifted down the hall, not hearing Chiun continue speaking to himself.
"But I have doubt of us. It is their secret that they divide to kill. Yet if we do not divide, we run the chance of both dying. Here, if one dies, the other may yet live and learn enough from that dying to wash this evil away from the earth forever. Be careful, my son."
Gluck sat across the street in a second-floor sequin-wholesaler's shop with a closed sign on the outside hall door. A pair of heavy binoculars were stuck on his eyes and a large, dull green cannister was between his legs.
"What if he goes out the back way?" asked Yat-Sen.
"Charlie said he'd come out the front way," said Gluck.
"Why are you using those stupid binoculars? You can see the entrance from here," said Yat-Sen.
"Charlie said that we had better not miss him," said Gluck.
"Charlie said, Charlie said," said Yat-Sen in disgust.
Gluck laughed and Yat-Sen joined him.
"Now cut that out," hooted Gluck, still holding the binoculars to his eyes. "We have to make sure we don't miss him."
"What do you mean we, Kimosabe?" said Yat-Sen. "I don't know about you, but I'm going back to that pretty little bookkeeper."
Gluck lowered the field glasses and turned, saying irritably: "I thought I told you to kill her. We can't have any witnesses."
"I will, I will," said Yat-Sen. "But she helps me pass the time. She jumps so high when I touch her there." He giggled.
"You, killed the other one though, right?" asked Gluck, turning back to the window.
"Sure. He's back there with her now. You want to check?"
"Naw," said Gluck, bringing the binoculars back up to his eyes. "Have fun."
"Sure," repeated Yat-Sen who moved across the wood floor in the wood-paneled sequin supply store. He moved through beautiful multicolored designs strung from the ceiling, hung on the walls and bags of sequins stacked on the floor until he reached the door for the back room.
Gluck turned quickly when he heard the knob creak and saw the back of a bloody gray head on the floor and a blonde girl strapped to a wooden chair with leather belts and knee socks. Her rose-colored shirt was open to the waist, her denim skirt was pulled up around her hips, and her stockings were rammed deep down her throat.
Gluck heard a dim, muffled sobbing and choking before Yat-Sen closed the door behind him. Gluck shook his head in amazement at what some people found kicky, then went back to his stake-out.
Five minutes later he saw a tall, thin man in a black T-shirt and blue slacks come out the main entrance and talk to the bell captain.
The bell captain replied silently, then pointed west. In the direction of Texas Solly's Vine Square Slaughterhouse. The bell captain began to call up a taxi but the man in the black T-shirt held up his hand and began to lope in a western direction.
Gluck put the binoculars down, stood up, and slowly closed the window.
"That's it," he shouted.
As he moved toward the back room, he heard the faucet
running behind the closed door. Then Yat-Sen came out, drying his hands on his pants. Before he closed the door behind him Gluck saw that the chair was empty. He just glimpsed the back of a shapely leg behind the bloody gray head before the door closed.
"Took a fancy to her, did you?" asked Gluck, smiling.
"Naw," said Yat-Sen. "She choked to death before I even started."
"Too bad," said Gluck. "Let's go."
Yat-Sen collected the thin rubber hose while Gluck retrieved the green cannister with the spigot on top.
"Do we have to wear the red costumes this time?" whined Yat-Sen, who was disappointed that he had to have sex with a dead girl instead of one who fought and he could beat up.
"Why bother?" said Gluck. "Charlie and Mary don't care anymore. Who's going to tell them we didn't? Let's just go up there, do it and peel him. I don't want to miss the action at the slaughterhouse."
The two ran, laughing, across the street, ignoring the traffic, and going through the hotel's swinging doors marked, "Please use revolving doors. Emergency use only."
They ignored the bell captain, the bellboys and the rest of the people in the lobby. They walked to the elevators, carrying the green cannister and the rubber hose past the registration desk, the information desk, and the reservation desk. The registration man, the information lady, and the reservation couple did not think to question them.
The elevator operator did. "What's that, guys?" he queried.
"For the air conditioning," said Gluck.
"Twelfth floor," said Yat-Sen.
The elevator operator did not question them further.
Chiun sat on his mat in the middle of the 12th-floor hotel room, seeking solace from his ancestors.
His thoughts went back and back and back and back until he was visiting a deep part of his mind where he rarely went. His childhood. The time, the very short time in childhood he had before he took the role of Master from his father.
His father had been tall and strong and handsome and brave. His hazel eyes had been clear until the very day of his departure from this world. His hands and feet and body were faster than had ever been known. Faster than Remo. Faster even than his own son, Chiun.
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