Warren Murphy - Waste Not, Want Not

"I guess they just don't make gods like they used to," Remo announced as he climbed into the passenger seat.

As seagull squawks echoed loud and shrill across the valley behind them, the Jeep turned lazily around. They headed back down the rutted ravine path.

Chapter 33

They had no choice but to release him.

Ever since Nikolai Garbegtrov had been trundled through the high gates of the Russian embassy in New Briton, his Green Earth followers had been gathering outside. They set up tents, lit candles, carried signs, sang protest songs.

The mob was growing, and it was getting ugly. They were demanding the release of the former premier.

The Russians had planned to spirit their traitorous former leader back home to a prison cell and a lengthy sentence. But this was a new era. And with cameras lined up beyond the gates, the entire world was watching.

They couldn't let the world see them dragging the screeching Garbegtrov from the building, couldn't risk a riot breaking out. In the end the Russians caved to the pressure of the protesters.

When Nikolai Garbegtrov stepped out the front gate in the company of two Green Earth elders, a cheer rose up.

The former Russian leader was wearing a white cap with the green Green Earth emblem on the front.

The men with him wore identical caps. So did many in the crowd. The caps were made from 100% recycled material. Garbegtrov loved recycling. Garbegtrov loved Mother Earth.

The ex-premier raised his hands in victory. "Hello, friends!" Garbegtrov yelled to the crowd. The crowd yelled back. There was love in Garbegtrov's eyes. There was love right back at him in the eyes of the protesters, his people. Everyone loved everyone.

Garbegtrov was about to speak of his confinement. To tell those gathered about the hardships and horrors he had endured during his day of captivity. Hours during which he had been warm and fed, unlike the people who had suffered years in freezing hunger in gulags while he had presided, fat and uncaring, over old Soviet Russia.

He was going to say many things, but something strange suddenly happened.

Garbegtrov saw something small and slow flying toward him from the direction of the street. So slow was it that he could clearly see that it was a small pebble.

It was an odd thing to see a pebble fly. Odder still when it seemed to abruptly pick up speed and bank upward.

The instant the pebble disappeared, the former Soviet premier felt the warm sun on his head. But that wasn't right. Sunlight had not touched his scalp in many months. It could only be doing so now if...

With sudden shock, he felt for his hat. His hand touched skin. He turned, horrified, to the crowd.

They had seen it. So had the cameras. From Europe to America, all around the world, everyone saw the tattoo emblazoned across his bald head. U.S.A. #1.

From the crowd there came a collective gasp of disbelief. It turned into a full-throated roar of rage. The America-haters of the Green Earth movement were not alone. Garbegtrov's former supporters in the media who shared their opinions screamed outrage.

Placards and cameras fell. Microphones and candles were trampled underfoot. As one, the crowd charged.

Garbegtrov tried running for the gates, but the Russians had locked them behind him.

The former dictator of the Soviet Union fell whimpering to his pudgy knees, shielding the hateful slogan across his scalp even as the enraged crowd fell upon him.

NO ONE NOTICED the thin man with the thick wrists who stood across the street bouncing pebbles in his hand.

As the crowd tore former Soviet Premier Nikolai Garbegtrov to shreds, Remo Williams let the stones slip from his hand, one by one. When he walked away he was whistling.

Chapter 34

Two days later Remo was sitting on the kitchen counter of the Connecticut duplex he and Chiun shared. There was a dictionary on the counter next to him. It was open to the Em. Remo was on the phone with Smith.

"The situation is under control," the CURE director was saying. "The authorities are investigating the matter. The good news is that all world leaders have departed Mayana safely."

"Whoopie-ding," Remo said. "After seeing those guys in action up close, I think most of the world would send us a thank-you bouquet if we'd let them get turned inside out. So does all this mean we have to go to war with Nishitsu again?"

"It does not look that way," Smith replied. "While the Nishitsu Corporation did have men in Mayana, according to the information I have uncovered, they were there as saboteurs. They wanted to protect the technology that was, after all, developed by them before it was stolen by the Russians."

"Chiun will be disappointed. I think he was psyching himself up for the annual Japanese head harvest."

"About the Vaporizer. The device is being dismantled. Teams have been dispatched to the old Jamestown site to search for any more bodies among the trash."

"I still want to know how they got their hands on the Nishitsu technology," Remo said.

"Blame Alexei Aliyev," Smith replied.

Remo frowned. "Who?"

"He is a Russian who was kept at the site in the guise of a janitor. Dr. Sears took instructions from Aliyev. He was shot sometime during the confusion. You did not know?"

"No," Remo said.

"Perhaps he offended Jack James in some way. In any event Aliyev worked on the vibration-suit project years ago. When the project was canceled, he was out of a job. He offered his technical know-how to the highest bidder, which wound up being the Mayanan government. He adapted the old technology to the Vaporizer. As I explained to you before, it is basically the same way the krahseevah could travel through phone lines, albeit on a much grander scale."

"I'll say. You should have seen the size of that dump, Smitty. They'll be cleaning it for years."

"Perhaps," Smith said. "Or perhaps they will just leave it as is and close down the area. An abandoned garbage dump would be a fitting monument to Jack James."

"I still can't get over that one," Remo said. "I'm amazed he got as far as he did."

"It is not so surprising," Smith said. "While insane, James was always a charismatic individual. That quality would not have been altered by plastic surgery. The world thought he was dead so no one would think to look for him among the living. And he emerged back in the public eye enough years after his false death that memory had faded."

"I guess," Remo said. "The harder thing for me to figure out is why the Russians let that Aloha guy get away."

"Actually that has been a serious problem ever since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Many former government scientists have decided to offer their services to the highest bidder. This is a real threat to the world as far as biological, chemical and nuclear weapons are concerned. Unfortunately Aliyev is just one of many."

"As usual you're a regular Little Mary Sunshine, Smitty. If there isn't anything else, let's end on that happy note."

Remo hung up the phone.

Hopping down from the counter, he snatched up the dictionary. Book in hand, he went out into the living room.

Chiun sat in front of the big-screen TV. The old Korean was watching the news.

"I looked that thing up," Remo announced.

Chiun didn't turn. "What are you braying about now?"

"That thing you said you want to be called. Reigning Master Emeritus. I looked it up." He read from the dictionary. "Emeritus. It means 'holding after retirement an honorary title corresponding to that held last during active service.'" Snapping the book shut, he glanced at his teacher, a look of triumphant expectation on his face.

"You move your lips when you read," Chiun said blandly.

"Honorary shmonorary, this means you're still Reigning Master, doesn't it?" Remo accused. "Even while I'm the Master of Sinanju you're the Master of Sinanju, too. And not a Master or retired Master or former Master, but the Master."