"Smith will not waste time," said Konracl Blutsturz, hoisting his upper body to a sitting position. His shoulder ached where the implant stressed the bone. "He could be here at any hour. I must be ready for him."
With another effort, he curled the legs, stiff like the forelimbs of a praying mantis, and climbed upright. On his feet, he swayed drunkenly.
"You don't look too steady." Ilsa said doubtfully. "The stabilizers will steady me. Quickly, the blade."
"Here," said Ilsa, carefully carrying the curved sickle with the edge pointed away from her. Konrad Blutsturz held his arm out while she hooked it up.
"I hope it holds," she said.
With his good hand, Konrad Blutsturz forced the blade into the recess of his titanium forearm. It clicked into place. And held.
"Good," he said.
Ilsa looked doubtful. "I still think we could have killed him at Folcroft."
"No. This is better. There is his fear for the safety of his wife. This will be more satisfying. Besides, at Folcroft he had many guards at his command. Here he will have no one."
"Don't you think you should put something on? I mean, your, um, thing is hanging out and everything."
"I am proud of my new body, Ilsa."
"Is it real? I mean, can it-"
"Can it do everything a real one can?" said Konrad Blutsturz. "It is a rubber prosthesis. I can relieve myself standing up now, not sitting like a woman. It is also inflatable,"
"Will it, like, feel like a real one?" Ilsa asked. She couldn't take her eyes off it.
"What difference does it make, my Ilsa?" he asked, advancing on her. "You have never felt a real one inside you."
Ilsa shrank back to the wall of the cabin. The raucous cries of Everglades birds echoed eerily in the swamp outside. The muggy heat filtered in through the windows, which had been sealed for many months.
"Shouldn't we wait?" asked Ilsa in a scared voice. "I mean, I want to and all. You know I do. But right now? You're still weak."
"I have ached for you, Ilsa," said Konrad Blutsturz, crowding her against the wall. "Ever since you were a child, I have ached for you, your smooth skin, your youthful flesh."
"My parents didn't like you."
"They were in my way. Now they are in the past."
"In your way! What do you mean?"
"Foolish girl. They were not murdered by others. I eliminated them. Because I wanted you, because I needed you."
"You!" Ilsa cried, shocked. And even before the tears began, she started to scream and pound her small fists against the bare, scarred chest of the man she had believed in for so many years. "You lied to me! You killed them. Not the Jews, not Smith, you!"
Ilsa stopped screaming when the blue hand took her by the throat and began to squeeze.
When she slipped to the floor, Konrad Blutsturz looked at her still form for a long moment of regret. "Ilsa," he whispered. "I did not mean to hurt you." When she did not answer, he began to inflate himself. Death would not rob him of his prize.
Dr. Harold W. Smith cut power to the airboat. There was an islet ahead, tangled with mangrove growth. The water split in two directions around it. He did not know which way to go.
Smith had rented the boat in Flamingo and sent it across a flat expanse of swamp grass until he had reached the mangrove swamp. The air was heavy, and alligators sunned themselves in the black mire at the edge of the increasing number of islands covered with mangrove and moss-draped trees. Despite the climate, Smith still wore his gray suit, his Dartmouth tie knotted tight at the throat. A briefcase lay at his feet.
Smith chose right and kicked on the great propelling fan which whirred inside a protective cage directly behind the pilot's seat.
A hundred yards ahead, Smith saw the cabin. It looked deserted. Smith cut power and let the flatbottomed boat glide to the hump of an island. An egret flashed by through the close dark trees.
From out of the silent swamp came a voice. A now-familiar voice. Smith tensed.
"There have been four great moments in my life, Dr. Smith," the voice called out.
Smith did not reach for the automatic in his shoulder holster. He did not want to betray the fact that he was armed. Not yet.
"The first great moment was in Berlin, when Hitler himself selected me for the work in America," the voice called.
Smith looked about carefully. The growth was thick. The voice didn't seem to be coming from the cabin. "The second great moment was when I first sat in a wheelchair. You might think, Harold W. Smith, that sitting in a wheelchair is not a moment of celebration, but compared with what I had been through, a wheelchair was glory."
"I prefer to see who I'm speaking to," said Harold Smith.
"The third great moment was achieved when I stood erect for the first time in forty years," the voice of Konrad Blutsturz went on. "But you will see what you have wrought soon enough, Smith."
"Where is my wife?" Smith demanded. He kept his voice under control. But he did not feel under control. He felt rage. "You offered me the chance to say goodbye to her. I claim that right."
"And the fourth great moment lies just before me. It is the instant when I take your throat in my hard left hand and squeeze the life from it. I hope it is a long moment for I have waited very long for it."
A figure emerged from the growth. Smith saw Konrad Blutsturz. His left arm gleamed unnaturally, and as Smith watched, a curved blade of metal snapped out; its glittering blade ran along the back of the blue-colored hand, protruding in a wicked point past the pointed metal fingertips.
Cyborg, thought Smith. Was it possible?
Konra, Blutsturz crushed his way to the mossy bank, and Smith watched the shiny artificial legs sink into the spongy earth almost up to the ankles. And he knew. Somehow, it all linked together, Blutsturz, the nebulizer and Remo and Chiun.
But there was no time for Smith's logical mind to connect all the pieces together, because suddenly Konrad Blutsturz was growing.
Tiny whirrings came from the man-machine's bionic knees. They spun, cranking out unfolding panels of titanium and pushing the leg sections upward.
When Konrad Blutsturz had gained two feet of height, he stepped into the still waters and advanced on Smith's boat like a metallic travesty of a stork.
"My wife," Smith said.
"You will never see her again," said Konrad Blutsturz. And he bared his teeth. It was not a grin. It was something that mixed pleasure and pain.
Smith switched the big fan to life and sent the boat surging at the ungainly wading thing.
"Idiot!" Blutsturz yelled, throwing his arms before his face.
Smith jumped from the boat before it struck.
Konrad Blutsturz wobbled slightly--only slightly-and sickled off a corner of the boat's flat snout. The craft took on water and began to sink.
Smith, scrambling up the mushy bank, plunged toward the cabin.
"Where are you?" he called.
Behind him, the croaking voice of Konrad Blutsturz laughed mockingly.
The body was nude below the waist. Someone had shoved the pants down about the ankles.
Smith saw that it was Ilsa, the blond nurse he had met at Folcroft. She was dead. His heart in his mouth, he ran from room to room. He found nothing, no one. The cabin was empty.
"Where is she?" he said to himself. "My God, where is she?"
Remo came to the fork in the swamp creek and asked Chiun, "Right or left?"
"Left," said Chiun firmly.
Remo sent the airboat skimming down the left-band channel. The Master of Sinanju stood at the head of the craft like a bizarre figurehead. He wore a Hawaiian shirt over duck pants, because everyone in the Everglades settlements wore them.
"I still think we should be helping Smith instead of running around like this," Remo complained.
"Smith told you he did not wish our help," said Chiun. "He is the emperor. His word is law."
"If this place is empty, I vote we turn back for Folcroft."
"You turn back
," said Chiun. "I will remain to await the coming of the man-machine, Bloodsucker, should he return."
The left channel ended in an empty cul-de-sac. "You were wrong," Remo pointed out.
"I was not wrong," said Chiun huffily. "I simply was not absolutely right."
"Same difference," said Remo, turning the boat around.
"Listen!" Chiun said suddenly. "I hear something." Remo shut off the motor and heard a voice filter through the sun-dappled trees.
"Smith! Harold W. Smith!" the voice screeched.
"It is him," said Chiun. "Bloodsucker."
"Through those trees," said Remo, sending the craft piling onto a bank. They jumped out and flashed through the undergrowth as if they had machetes attached to their bodies.
On the other side of the bank, they found the right hand channel. Standing in it, the deep water not even reaching his hips, was Konrad Blutsturz.
"Smith." Blutsturz called.
"Hold, abomination!" cried the Master of Sinanju. Konrad Blutsturz heard the voice and half-turned. One leg lifted and moved. storklike, and he pivoted to face the new threat.
"So," he said. "You have found me."
Remo started into the water. Chiun pulled him back. "Wait. Let him come to us."
"Okay, Little Father. You call it," said Remo. He shifted off to one side so that he and Chiun presented separate targets.
"Smith," cried Konrad Blutsturz as he advanced. "Harold Smith. Come out and see the vengeance I mete out to my enemies."
"Is he referring to our Smith?" asked Chiun.
"I don't think so," said Remo, who changed his mind when a familiar figure in gray stuck his head out of the nearby cabin.
"Smitty," Remo called. "What are you doing here?"
"That thing kidnapped my wife."
"You know each other?" said Konrad Blutsturz, surprise filling his bloodless face.
"Don't you know?" said Remo coolly. "We work for him. We've been onto you from the start."
"For Smith? All along?" Blutsturz turned to face Smith. "I have been stalking you and you sent these two after me? Amazing. You are more resourceful than I expected, Harold Smith."
"Forget Smith," said Remo. "You have to deal with us first."
Chiun called to Smith, "Look in the cabin, Emperor Smith. The device we seek may be in there."
Smith disappeared inside.
"He is out of the way, good," said Chiun. "Let us show this nearly dead thing how Sinanju deals with its enemies."
"I'll see what I can do, Little Father," Remo said as Konrad Blutsturz reached their moss bank. Blutsturz lifted a leg. It broke through a chunk of earth and slipped back into the tea-colored water.
"What?" wondered Konrad Blutsturz, dumbfounded. "He cannot leave the water," Chiun told Remo. "Too heavy. "
"Now," said Remo.
Remo took the left, coming in on an inside line-the traditional Sinanju path for close-quarters fighting-and the flashing blade rose to meet him. Chiun cut in on the right, taking the outside-line approach.
"I will kill you," howled Konrad Blutsturz, and chopped down with the wicked blade.
Remo twisted out from under it and jabbed a stiff fingered blow at, not the metal arm, but the flesh of the stump above it.
Konrad Blutsturz let out a scream of deep agony. He duck-walked back from the bank as if his legs were being pulled by invisible strings.
Chiun kicked out a sandaled toe and caught one metal leg as Blutsturz hopped back. The leg buckled, then recovered mechanically. Blutsturz' torso twisted like a scoop of ice cream on top of a tipping sugar cone.
"The leg machines move on their own," Chiun called to Remo in Korean.
"Gotcha," said Remo. He plunged into the water. Chiun followed him in.
Konrad Blutsturz, holding his bleeding stump of a shoulder, stepped back, circling on one leg like a giant compass drawing a circle. He peered into the brown water. He saw nothing. He looked for air bubbles, but oddly, there were none. Did these two not breathe air? Then one of his legs quivered from a blow-the right. Yelling, Konrad Blutsturz lashed out, kicking. Water splashed furiously. He was like a wader who suddenly discovers a poisonous jellfish between his knees. He kicked. He howled. But his titanium legs connected with nothing.
"Peekaboo," said a squeaky voice behind him. He turned. It was the Oriental.
"Come and get me," taunted Chiun.
Konrad Blutsturz did not come and get Chiun. He stepped back. And felt both legs lock. He strained, but something kept his legs from moving. Something in the water. Of course, the young one. Remo.
"I can have him tip you into the water," said Chiun. "He has you by both legs. If you fall, as heavy as you are, you will drown."
"No!" screamed Konrad Blutsturz. "I will not be cheated. Not after forty years. Smith! Smith! Call them off, Smith. Face me like a man. I dare you to face me, Smith,"
Harold Smith emerged from the cabin. He was struggling with the nebulizer. Its wheels kept sinking into the muddy ground.
"Don't kill him," Smith called. "He's the only one who knows where my wife is."
The sound of Smith's voice carried underwater, where Remo held Konrad Blutsturz' stiff legs in place. He climbed to the surface like a man climbing two poles, without releasing either titanium leg.
When he cleared the water, Remo asked, "What do I do, Little Father?"
"Do not listen to Smith," said Chiun in Korean. "We have Bloodsucker where we want him now." Blutsturz swung at Remo, but his arm was too short. He raged inarticulately. Remo shook the legs violently in annoyance. Blutsturz groaned.
"But you heard Smith," Remo said. "This guy knows where Mrs. Smith is."
"Emperors' wives can be replaced," retorted Chiun. "This thing must be extinguished now before he causes more harm."
"I thought you always taught me to obey an emperor," Remo reminded him.
"You obey your emperor," said Chiun, "after you obey your Master."
''Maybe I can do both," Remo said, yanking hard. Konrad Blutsturz felt himself twisting, tipping. He fell hard, his upper body crashing into the mangrove growth. He clawed at the solid ground, retracting his legs behind him.
Remo and Chiun climbed up after him, but Blutsturz was already on his feet when they reached him.
"It will be harder now," Chinn snapped at Remo.
"Smith wants him alive," Remo said. "He gets him alive. "
Konrad Blutsturz flailed wildly at both men with his titanium blade. They ducked his blows, twin blurs of unstoppable motion. Each time he swung, the swing passed right through them. Or seemed to. He knew they were not human. But then, neither was he anymore.
And each time he missed, they would send a tormenting blow to his naked torso, where he was vulnerable, "He is weakening," said Chiun in Korean.
"I have an idea," said Remo. "Try kicking a leg out from under him."
"It will do no good," said Chiun, aiming for the right leg. The leg gave before his lightning blew. For a half-second Konrad Blutsturz was poised on one long leg; then the other found its footing, controlled by computerized internal stabilizers.
"See?" said Clriun.
"Try again," said Remo, circling behind the towering, sweating figure.
Chiun struck again. This time Remo also kicked. Both kicks moved with the striking power of a piston. Both aimed at the precise same point-the leg section below the collapsible knee joint.
The leg, touched by the kick of the Master of Sinanju, retreated with microprocessor speed.
And collided into Remo's striking toe.
Titanium parts collapsed, spitting off in all directions. Konrad Blutsturz staggered, his maimed leg waving crazily, seeking footing and stability.
Like a fantastic living tree, Konrad Blutsturz fell, raving, to the ground.
"Smith!" he yelled. "I will not be cheated! We are not done yet!"
And he wasn't. Konrad Blutsturz threshed like the machine he was, chewing up plants and sending clods of swamp muck into the air.
&nbs
p; "Stay back, Little Father. He's still dangerous."
"I know," said the Master of Sinanju.
"Remo! Chiun! Stand clear," Harold Smith called from the cabin door.
"What?" shouted Remo.
"I said stand clear." When they moved out of the way, Smith triggered the nebulizer.
On the ground, the churning mechanical limbs of Konrad Blutsturz began to waver and blur. What had been hard metallic joints threw off globs of cold slag, melted, and ran.
In a matter of an instant, the dried husk that was the human part of Konrad Blutsturz flopped in a liquid puddle that was dribbling down the bank and into the water.
With a savage cry, Blatsturz pushed free of the pool of titanium and scrambled at Harold Smith. He hopped on the stumps of his legs in a horrible mockery of human locomotion, keeping his body upright with his one arm.
Harold Smith saw the thing bearing down on him, and it was like being attacked in a nightmare. What was now Konrad Blutsturz was less than three feet tall, but over and over again he cried one word in a voice that sent the alligators plunging into the safety of the water for miles around. "Smith! Smith! Smith!"
And Harold W. Smith, shaken by the hatred that animated the thing creeping toward him, was forced to shoot.
He pumped two bullets into Blutsturz' hobbling form, but even that did not stop him.
The third bullet did. It slammed Blutsturz into a low somersault.
Smith drew close to the bleeding body that was a head and a torso and not much more, his automatic shaking in his fist-the same automatic he had carried in Tokyo.
"My wife," Smith demanded. "Where is she?"
"Dead," croaked Konrad Blutsturz. "Dead. I am revenged in that at least. Revenged."
And Smith, horror riding his features, fired a last bullet into Blutsturz' head.
"I'm sorry, Smitty," Remo told him.
Smith stood with a stupid expression on his face. "Dead," he said weakly. "She's dead."
"We will scour these Everglades," cried Chiun. "We will recover the body of the emperor's wife so that she may be buried with honor." And he kicked the corpse in spite.
"No," said Harold Smith. "No. Just . . . just take me back to Folcroft. Please."
Chapter 30
Dr. Harold W. Smith walked stiffly into his office. It was late at night, and outside the picture window a heavy snow was falling.
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