Warren Murphy - The End of the Beginning

When he went to hang up his suit in the closet, Remo found a glassy-eyed corpse propped up in the corner.

"Jesum Crow," he said, swallowing his breath mint. He jumped back as the orderly's body dumped out onto the floor.

Remo's startled heart was jumping a mile a minute. Using the breathing techniques he'd been taught, he willed it slower.

He looked down at the body. The last peeking edge of the spoon's bowl was visible in the man's dented forehead.

"Dammit," Remo muttered.

Scowling, he stuffed the body back in the closet. He used the spoon as a hook to hang up his suit jacket. Trading his dress shoes for sneakers, he changed into a white T-shirt and tan slacks before heading upstairs.

The administrative wing was almost as abandoned as it had been that first night a week before. Despite passing a dozen offices, Remo saw only a grand total of five people.

Director Smith's secretary was sitting at her desk. She glanced up as Remo entered the room.

Miss Purvish's professional demeanor seemed to fade before his eyes. A flush came to her cheeks.

Remo was still getting used to this reaction. After a month or two of training, Chiun had told him that some women could sense a man with superior timing and body rhythms. Remo asked him why he was telling him that, since Chiun kept insisting that Remo was an untrainable klutz with a radish for a brain. Chiun said that, given the yardstick of other whites to go by, having a whole radish in his head could make Remo king of the western hemisphere. Women would sense his radish, so watch out. The old man had been right.

"Oh, hello," Miss Purvish said with a too wide smile. "You're Mr. Park's nurse, aren't you?"

She licked her lips. She wasn't unattractive, but she wore too much makeup. Remo thought they could make ten bucks on the weekends if they stuck a rubber ball on the end of her nose and rented her out for kids' parties.

"I prefer the term 'physical-needs specialist.'" Her leering smile told him the physical needs she'd like him to specialize in.

"Dr. Smith told me to send you right in."

As he passed her desk, she followed him with her eyes.

Before he was within ten feet of the door, Remo heard an ungodly shriek from within Smith's office. "Perfidy!" cried a muffled singsong voice.

The door flew open and the Master of Sinanju swirled out into the outer office like a cloud of purple doom. A hand of parchment-covered bone stabbed Remo's chest.

"You have been inhaling tobacco smoke," the aged Korean accused angrily.

"Howdy-do to you, too," Remo said, peeved.

Miss Purvish was frozen in her chair. Her hands were locked to the edge of her desk and her jaw hung open as she stared wide-eyed at the ancient Oriental in the purple-and-gold kimono who had just raged from her employer's office.

Smith sprang through the door a heartbeat after Chiun. Out of breath, his eyes darted to his shocked secretary.

"Er, you've met Mr. Park," Smith explained hastily to her. "The patient is a stickler for issues of health." He turned to Chiun. "I agree, Mr. Park, that your nurse should have more consideration for your concerns. Let's discuss the issue in the privacy of my office, shall we?"

Smith's bloodless lips formed a parody of a reasonable smile as he ushered the two men into his office.

"What's he doing here?" Remo asked after Smith had closed and locked the door on the young woman's baffled face.

"You dare?" Chiun snapped. "You dare question why I, a loyal servant, would be where I belong, at my emperor's side? You who would stick tubes of burning leaves between your blubbery lips? Oh, and after all the hard work I put in trying to get your lungs and body to begin doing some of what they are supposed to do. This is how you repay me?"

"If I recall, I was the one putting in the hard work all those months," Remo droned.

Chiun's voice grew low with menace. "If you think you had it difficult before, just you wait."

"Would you both please keep your voices down?" Smith said tightly.

"I'm sorry-" Remo was going to say more, but stopped. "What do I call you, by the way?"

"Either Doctor Smith or Director Smith will suffice."

Remo clearly wasn't pleased with the choices. "Don't have a first name, huh? Okay, Smitty." Smith let the nickname slide. The only other man who'd ever called him that was Conrad MacCleary. Rather than pick that particular scab, he opted to ignore it. Besides, if he called attention to it, this Remo might make it a habit.

"I'm sure you want to know why I called you back here," the CURE director said. "Other than your apparent inability to remember the simplest of phone codes."

"Does it have something to do with the corpse-in-the-box I found rigged up downstairs?" Remo asked. "That was hilarious, by the way."

"No," Smith said, shooting a glance at the Master of Sinanju. "That is an issue that will have to be dealt with separately. I need clarification of the details of your assignment. Norman Felton is dead, correct?"

"He's toast," Remo said. "I pushed the button myself. He got crushed into a bite-sized cube."

"Do my ears hear true? You used a machine to assassinate?" Chiun gasped. His voice flirted with heretofore undiscovered octaves of horror.

"That is irrelevant, Master Chiun," Smith admonished. "Remo, you removed Felton last night. This morning two United States senators were murdered."

This got Remo's attention. "Murdered? I heard about it on the radio. They didn't say anything about murders."

"The details have not yet been released to the public. It is my belief that they were targeted for assassination by the Viaselli crime syndicate."

He quickly filled Remo in on the details of the senatorial committee on organized crime that was making its way across the country. He finished up with the decapitation death of Senator Dale Bianco.

"I didn't hear about him," Remo said once he was through.

"It happened while you and Chiun were away," Smith said. "That was why I sent MacCleary into the field. There is a pattern to these deaths. It clearly points to someone out to throw the Senate committee, perhaps the nation, into chaos. The latest pair of executions took place after you eliminated Felton, who you claim was the true Viaselli Family enforcer."

"He was," Remo insisted.

"Then someone else is responsible for these new deaths. Perhaps even some of the others, with Felton using his device to destroy the evidence. I have consulted with Master Chiun. Unfortunately, he couldn't place the modus operandi to anyone who travels in the same, er, circles as he."

Neither Remo nor Smith noticed the flat expression that settled on the Master of Sinanju's wrinkled face. Smith continued. "Remo, I need you to find out who is responsible, and I need you to stop them."

"I thought I was supposed to get back to training," Remo said, glancing at the Master of Sinanju. "Not that I was looking forward to it or anything."

"You may come back to Folcroft to resume your training after this situation is resolved."

"I urge you to reconsider, Emperor Smith," the Master of Sinanju interjected. "It is sheer dumb luck that he survived this long. You are taking a grave risk if you send him back out to blunder around some more."

Remo scowled. "You know that bullshit's rude enough when you say it just to me, but it's about a billion times more insulting when you say it about me when I'm standing right next to you in the goddamned room."

"Silence," Chiun hissed. "This is for your own good."

There was something beneath the admonition. Something Remo hadn't ever detected in the old man's voice before. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear it was worry.

"Remo has handled the situation well thus far, Master Chiun," Smith said. "I'm not sure what your objections are."