Waste Not, Want Not td-130

by Warren Murphy

  "That got it," Sears said. "Lock it down and get back up here. We've got company."

  On the security camera he saw Deputy Minister Jiminez's bus coming through the front gate.

  The bus was loaded with thirty more scientists. Thirty more chances that Sears's secret might become known.

  "Play it cool, Mike," he muttered to himself. Leaving the booth, he went down the fence-lined path to the parking lot. The visitors were already getting off the bus. Two men had gotten off first-a young Caucasian and a very old Asian. The rest seemed to be avoiding these two. They stumbled off almost desperately, forming a fearful group away from the first pair.

  George Jiminez was the last one off.

  "Ah, Dr. Sears," the deputy finance minister said. "Are you ready to dazzle your latest guests?"

  "Of course," Mike Sears said, a nervous smile plastered across his face. He turned to the group of scientists. "Welcome to the future, gentlemen. I'm sure your governments will be fascinated by your reports. If you'll come this way." He and Jiminez began herding the scientists into the Vaporizer compound.

  Remo and Chiun brought up the rear. Remo was sniffing the air. "It stinks worse here than it did back in the city," he complained. "You'd think they'd figure out a way to zap the stink when they zap the garbage."

  When he got no reply, he glanced at his teacher. Chiun was still studying the Asian man he had singled out on the bus. The man was Japanese. His name tag identified him as Dr. Hiro Taki. Dr. Taki seemed nervous and jumpy. Remo assumed it had to do with first being assaulted on the bus, then drawing the exclusive attention of his assaulter.

  "Remember, the war's over, Chiun," Remo warned.

  "I am not an American who thinks it is highminded to turn a blind eye to human nature," the old Korean replied. "That man is up to no good."

  "Could be," Remo said. "Or it could be he senses he's being targeted by a known Japanese basher."

  "Is it bashing to point out that all Japanese are liars and thieves?"

  "Yes," Remo said. "Especially when there's actual bashing involved, which there most times is. And while we're at it, wasn't the guy who founded Sinanju Japanese?"

  Chiun tore his eyes from Hiro Taki's back. "Why do I even talk to you?"

  Quickening his pace, he shuffled ahead of his pupil.

  A hurricane fence surrounded the area. Beyond was the exterior wall of the Vaporizer.

  Special reusable boots were issued to the group from a large bin inside the fence.

  "These will keep you from losing your footing inside," Mike Sears explained, forcing a smile as the men slipped the boots over their shoes. "I doubt any of you want to fall in."

  Wearing the protective boots, the group stepped through the gap in the outer wall and out onto the deck of the Vaporizer. The black pit yawned before them.

  "You'll notice that the walls around us are of the same material as the Vaporizer itself," Sears said. "This upper level will eventually be part of the unit, almost doubling capacity. For tests until now we have dumped single loads into the device. That's good for demonstration and experimentation, but isn't cost-effective. When we settle into daily use, the main pit and upper level will be filled to capacity before the unit is activated. Hundreds of tons of waste will be removed in the wink of an eye."

  Some members of the group were touching the walls. Their faces grew surprised. Remo and Chiun tried it, as well.

  There was barely any sense of anything at all. The strange coating seemed to dissipate Remo's touch across the surface. It was almost like touching air.

  "It's a kind of rubberized tile," Sears explained. "We use some of the same principles used by defense departments, NASA, the computer industry. The walls were tricky. We had to design them so that the process itself didn't swallow up the unit. If we got it wrong, when we switched it on, it would theoretically destroy itself along with most of the hill we're standing on."

  Some of the braver men edged toward the fence that surrounded the pit. The capped nozzles in the black walls glinted in the sunlight.

  Workmen were in the Vaporizer pit. An Asian scientist was just climbing out. His face glistened sweat. Other men drew up the scaffolding he had been working from.

  "Dr. Yakamoto was just making some minor adjustments," Mike Sears explained. "I think he's all set now."

  Yakamoto nodded.

  "Great," Sears said. "Maybe you'd like to see a demonstration before we get into Q and A. Please come this way."

  Sears and Jiminez began to herd the crowd back to the door. Dr. Hiro Taki lagged at the back of the group, as did Dr. Yakamoto. The men didn't seem to know each other. In fact, they seemed to make a point of not knowing each other. It was a subtle nuance that would have gone unnoticed by anyone other than Remo and Chiun.

  Remo didn't know how he knew the men were acquainted. It was something instinctive. His suspicions were confirmed when the men just for a moment-locked eyes. Dr. Taki offered a single nod. Yakamoto's face showed a flash of horror before turning away.

  "See?" Chiun said. "Do you see why my father always said never trust a son of Nippon?"

  "Was he trying out for the role of Korean Archie Bunker?" Remo said dryly.

  Unseen by the Mayanans, Remo had kicked off one shoe to test the surface underfoot. It was as frictionless as the walls. Without their special boots, even he and Chiun might have fallen. He slipped his loafer with its boot back on.

  When he glanced up he saw that Chiun had padded farther ahead. The old man had caught up to Toshimi Yakamoto. Leaning in, he whispered something to the Japanese scientist.

  Yakamoto responded with shock. The color drained from his sweating face. He hustled away from the wizened Korean, forcing his way through the group of visitors and out the gate.

  "Do I want to know?" Remo asked once he caught up to his teacher.

  "It was nothing that you do not already know," Chiun replied. "I told him that the Japanese as a people cannot be trusted and that I know he is up to no good. And look, see how he runs like a frightened rabbit when confronted by the truth. Pitiful. The one thing these Japanese had was pigheaded bravery, and Western subversion has robbed them even of that. I blame the French."

  Leaving his pupil on the Vaporizer deck, he flounced out of the gate to remove the special boots from his sandals.

  Remo tipped his head, considering. "Now, there's some racism I can finally support," he said, nodding. He followed the others out the gate.

  Chapter 10

  Toshimi Yakamoto ran.

  Fear slowed his legs. His lungs burned, his brain sang a symphony of panic.

  The old man knew. Somehow he knew.

  He hadn't been specific. But those penetrating hazel eyes said all that was unspoken. He knew the truth.

  The Korean had spoken Japanese. It was unlikely that anyone would have understood had they even heard, but the fact was, Yakamoto had been found out.

  It was no wonder.

  Toshimi Yakamoto had no business being here. He was a scientist, not a spy. But he was a scientist who had been there at the start. The real start, not this bastardized Mayanan version of it. He understood the nuts and bolts of what needed to be done and so-despite his protestations-had been drafted kicking and screaming into this project.

  But now it was done. He had been found out. Mind swirling, he ran out of the Vaporizer compound and through the hurricane fence.

  He passed colleagues whom he had worked with for nearly a year, as well as other workmen from the project. He ignored all their smiles and hellos, shoving through them.

  Another tour bus was coming up the road from New Briton. The driver had to lay on the horn as Yakamoto darted out in front of it. The bumper nearly nicked him. He felt the exhaust breeze as he made it to the other side of the road.

  Passengers watched the little man in the white lab coat running like a maniac from the Vaporizer site. The bus continued up toward the cluster of buildings as Yakamoto ran down into the lower parking lot.

  He fou
nd his Toyota, fumbling his keys from his pocket. He dropped them to the gravel drive, knocked them behind a tire and scraped his palm clawing them back out. Keys rattling, he unlocked his car and fell inside.

  He hunkered down in the back seat. His injured hand found his cell phone in his coat pocket. With shaking hands he pressed out the special number.

  The phone was answered on the first half ring. "What is it?" the deep voice demanded in Japanese. A demon's voice, rumbling up from some low circle of Hell.

  "I have been discovered!" Yakamoto blurted. As he spoke, he glanced in fright around the parking area. There was no one else there. He expected them to come any moment. He sank farther in on himself, trying to melt into the seat.

  "Explain," demanded the man on the phone.

  In a voice bordering on hysterical, Yakamoto whimpered out the details of his brief confrontation with the visiting Korean scientist.

  "What exactly did he say?" the man on the phone demanded once Toshimi Yakamoto was finished. "He said I was untrustworthy and that I was up to no good," Yakamoto pleaded.

  There was a pause. "And?" the voice asked. Yakamoto felt his breathing coming under control. His head was clearing. Somehow actually repeating the words of his accuser out loud made them sound not quite so damning.

  "He said Japanese eyes were funny," Yakamoto said.

  "In other words, he said nothing specific except to insult your nationality?"

  Yakamoto was thinking much more clearly now. His brow furrowed deeply. "I suppose not. No, he did not."

  "You became panicked for nothing," the man on the phone said. "This Korean merely saw a Japanese and automatically became envious. It is not uncommon. After all, Koreans spring from a pool of envy. It is in their nature, for they all wish they were Japanese. Who can blame them?"

  Yakamoto was feeling much better. He wiped some sweat from his face with the cuff of his white lab coat. "Do you really think so?" he asked hopefully.

  "Of course. From what you say, he did not accuse you of anything specific, nor did he speak to your supervisor. He did not even threaten to do so or to go to the Mayanan government. You misinterpreted this Korean. That is easy enough to do. Their mouths form words funny."

  Dr. Yakamoto didn't mention that the old Korean spoke flawless Japanese. He was just relieved that the man on the phone was not yelling at him for wasting his time.

  "I am sorry to have panicked," Yakamoto apologized.

  "Never mind," the deep voice said. "This is not your field. As long as you have called, have you spoken with Dr. Taki yet? We have gotten him in as consultant to the prime minister. It was the best way to get him into Mayana without arousing suspicion. He should be in New Briton by now."

  "No," Yakamoto admitted. "He must have just arrived. He was in the group that just came up from the airport. The same group with the old Korean."

  A sharp intake of angry air. "What do you mean, the group that just came from the airport? Your confrontation with this Korean, when did all this happen?"

  Yakamoto felt the fear rising again. Different now than the fear of discovery. It was fear of a man who held the power to hire and fire.

  "Less than five minutes ago," he admitted guiltily.

  The low voice rumbled deeper. "You are not calling from a secure location?" the man demanded. This was one of the most important security details that had been drilled into Toshimi Yakamoto. He was to find call-in sites where he was least likely to be monitored. Public places were not perfect but were preferable. Parks and the rest rooms of restaurants and bars were good. Not his car and not his apartment, since they could be bugged. And the one place over all others where he was never, ever to call from was the Vaporizer site itself.

  "I am... that is- The Korean frightened me."

  "Tell me, Toshimi Yakamoto, that you are not at the site of the Wayanan device," the deep voice said.

  "There is no one else around," Yakamoto blurted. "The parking lot is empty. And the people who saw me run down here did not know why I was running." There came a few seconds of angry snorting on the other end of the line, like a bull getting ready to charge. When the voice spoke once more, it was a growl of barely controlled fury.

  "Get back to work," the man snarled. "If anyone asks, tell them you were running because you thought you left the lights on in your car. Have your scheduled meeting with Dr. Taki in the city. You said you required help. He will help you. And when you call to report this evening, Toshimi Yakamoto, you had better do so from a secure location. If not, I will personally wring your idiot neck."

  The phone went dead in Yakamoto's hand. Clicking it shut, he slipped it back into his pocket. He had never heard his employer so angry. Far more frightening than his trademark outbursts of temper was this quiet, controlled rage.

  Yakamoto had made a mistake. It was not his fault, since this was not his field of expertise, but that obviously didn't matter. It was clear that this incident would not be forgotten. One more misstep like this one and he would be out of a job. His only hope now was to impress the higher-ups by completing this mission successfully.

  It was humid in the car. Yakamoto mopped the sweat from his glistening face with the tails of his lab coat before opening the door.

  He thought he had left the lights on. A plausible excuse. He came in early enough in the morning that he might have had them on. People would believe that.

  He climbed out of the car, careful to lock it up tight.

  Yes, the lights. They hadn't been on, of course, he would say. But he was afraid he might have left them on.

  "I left my lights on, I left my lights on, I left my lights on...." He repeated it many times just to be sure.

  The perfect excuse.

  Straightening his shoulders, the little scientist pressed his black hair back carefully with both hands. With a deep breath, he marched back up to the Vaporizer site.

  Above, the parking lot security camera recorded his every move. And, unknown to Toshimi Yakamoto, in the coil of a spring under the front passenger seat of his Toyota, a hidden listening device had picked up his every word.

  "I LIGHTS my left on," Toshimi Yakamoto announced with great confidence to the roomful of men.

  No one paid the Japanese scientist any attention when he marched into the control booth. The tour group-which included the old Korean and his young associate-was at the window. Below them was the Vaporizer. Deputy Minister Jiminez was nowhere to be seen.

  "I mean, I left my left on. My lights. On. But lights were not on, were off. But I was afraid lights were on."

  The Japanese scientist's babbling finally drew someone's attention.

  "Oh, Toshimi, you're here," Mike Sears said. "Can you give me a hand setting up this test?"

  "I did not leave lights on in car," Yakamoto promised.

  Mike Sears was no longer paying attention. He was fussing at a computer keyboard.

  Yakamoto felt a wash of great relief. It was clear he had barely been missed. His employer-his true employer-had been correct. And Dr. Taki was not looking his way. He was staring out the window, back rigid.

  Things were fine. He had panicked for nothing. Careful to keep out of the way of the envious old Korean who wished he was Japanese, Toshimi Yakamoto hurried over to assist Mike Sears.

  At the window, Remo glanced back at Yakamoto. The Japanese scientist's confrontation with Chiun was already forgotten. Yakamoto was engrossed in his work.

  "I'm surprised he came back," Remo commented to Chiun in Korean. "The way you spooked him out, I figured he'd be dog-paddling back to Tokyo."

  "Doubtless he remembered there were more rolls of toilet paper to steal from the lavatory," Chiun droned. He didn't turn to watch Yakamoto working. The old man's button nose was pressed against the window.

  Two trucks piled high with teetering stacks of garbage had been lined up on ramps at the edge of the Vaporizer pit.

  "Probably just an industrial spy," Remo said. "The Japanese'll steal the design of this thing and start crank
ing them out like toasters. Still, whatever you said to him, it probably wasn't very nice. You know, Little Father, it wouldn't hurt to tone down the racist stuff."

  "Bah," Chiun grunted. "I am not racist. The aberration of you as Reigning Master notwithstanding, true Masters of Sinanju have always been Korean for a reason. The only good race is Korean. In fact, to accuse me of racism is to slander the most perfect specimen of Koreanness. Me. I refuse to speak to one who is so racist."

  Eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits, he stared out the window.

  Mike Sears talked the group through the process. It was exactly as Remo had seen it on television. The nozzle tips buried in the black walls of the deep pit glowed a brilliant white. The trucks tipped their loads into the pit, and the trash winked out of existence in star flashes, piece by piece.

  Remo tried to track some individual pieces of garbage. In the microsecond before they disappeared, they seemed to elongate. No human eye save those of the two Masters of Sinanju could have seen it. The trash stretched, then seemed to explode in bursts of brilliant white.

  With flashbulb pops that were blinding in their speed, the two loads of trash vanished, absorbed back into the ether as scattering molecules.

  "So much for Smith's doubts," Remo said.

  He glanced at his teacher. Chiun had been looking for a trick. Anything that might have gone unnoticed by the rest of the world. But, like Remo, he saw none.

  Bearing witness to such new, powerful technology, the former Reigning Master of Sinanju's face became a mask of stony silence.

  George Jiminez had slipped into the room for the end of the test. The deputy finance minister had been out greeting the next bus of guests.

  "If you'd like to come to our visitors' center, Dr. Sears will answer your questions now," Jiminez announced.

  While the group filed out, Sears gave instructions to Yakamoto to check another misaligned nozzle before the next test. Grateful for the opportunity to keep busy, Yakamoto hurried downstairs. The American scientist left the room, as well, making a detour down to the Vaporizer deck.

  "We better skip out on the spiel, Chiun," Remo whispered. "It's getting late and I want to get a decent night's sleep before I check out those sunk scows tomorrow."