Warren Murphy - Market Force

Remo couldn't believe what he was hearing. He turned to his teacher. "Little Father?" he asked. The old man shook his head.

"The emperor has done his best," Chiun said flatly. "You should thank him as I have for taking interest in what is essentially a Sinanju problem."

"Sinanju my ass," Remo said. "He's the psycho pupil of your traitor nephew. They both forfeited the right to claim Sinanju status the first fifty-seven billion times they tried to kill us. And we can't let him just run around loose. Try harder, Smitty."

"I have done all I can," the CURE director said.

"Do more," Remo insisted. "Everybody's gotta be somewhere. I thought you knew how to run those dingwhistle computers of yours."

"Remo, I have exhausted all possibilities," Smith said, straining to inject calm. "Purcell is gone." Remo couldn't believe the older man's attitude. This was big beyond big. Smith should have realized that. And Chiun. Chiun of all people should have known better. But the two of them were just sitting there.

"Well, isn't this just marvey?" Remo snarled sarcastically. "The biggest threat we've ever faced is out roaming the countryside like an albino Frankenstein, and the three of us are sitting out on the terrace drinking mint juleps and waiting for the freaking magnolias to bloom."

Smith pulled off his glasses. With slender fingers he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If it seems as if I am not worried, I assure you, Remo, that's not the case," the CURE director said. "But I have spent the better part of the past day searching for Purcell with no success. He has disappeared completely. I can't send you after him when I don't know where in the world he is. And at the moment Purcell is not our only problem."

"Why?" Remo asked, suddenly suspicious at the older man's grave tone. "What other disaster happened while I was gone?" A thought popped into his head. "Hey, by the way, where's Smitty Jr.? It's halfpast time for him to annoy the piss out of me right about now."

"Mark is-" Smith hesitated. "He has been committed as a patient here at Folcroft."

Remo's brow darkened. "Purcell zap him?"

"No. I am not sure what's wrong. Physically, Mark is fine. It's his mental and emotional state that concerns me at the moment."

"Why? What happened to the kid?" Smith replaced his glasses.

"The doctors aren't certain. At the moment he is being treated for exhaustion. It appears as if he has not slept in days. Master Chiun believes that his condition is the result of some sort of external mental phenomenon, which could explain why he cut Purcell's sedatives."

Remo's eyes went flat. "Hold the phone," he said, voice dead. "Are you telling me Wally Cleaver is the one who let Purcell out of his cage?"

"It would appear to be the case," Smith admitted.

Remo's face steeled. "Fine," he said. "How do you want me to work this? You want him to die in bed here, or do you want me to take him somewhere else and do it?"

Smith shook his head firmly. "I do not want Mark harmed, Remo," he said. "Not until we know all the facts."

"Facts, my ass," Remo said. "You put MacCleary on ice for a lot less than this. Or am I the only one who remembers that?"

Conrad MacCleary had been part of CURE's inner circle in the early days. He was the man responsible for bringing Remo into the organization. MacCleary had also been Harold W. Smith's only real friend. At the mention of his old comrade's name, Smith's spine stiffened.

"MacCleary was a different case," the CURE director said coldly. "He was hospitalized with injuries that would more than likely have killed him anyway. With the medication he was on, there was a risk that he would talk."

"Right. And I suppose you're treating Howard with nothing but happy thoughts and Yoo-Hoos?"

"Mark is under sedation, yes," Smith admitted. "But I have taken precautions. He has been isolated from the rest of Folcroft's population. Master Chiun and I have been monitoring his progress. I have only allowed the medical staff to see him while I am present. It's safe for now."

"It'll be a hell of a lot safer once I pull his spine out through his mouth," Remo said. He spun on his heel.

Before Remo could storm from the room, the Master of Sinanju rose to his feet.

"Hold!" the old man commanded.

Remo stopped, spinning back around. "This is the right thing to do, Little Father," he snapped. "The kid did more than just screw us. He might have signed both our death warrants. Or did you forget Purcell's got an edge on us?"

"The Dutchman's ability to cast hallucinations is not the issue here," Chiun said. "Until we learn the truth of his involvement with Purcell, you will do nothing to harm the Prince Regent."

"Why?" Remo asked in Korean. "Because you think you can soak him for a few shekels once he takes over for Smith? Here's a news flash for you. Your vaunted little prince just stabbed us all in the back. I say we cut bait on him now."

"And I say we do not," Chiun retorted in the same language. "My time as Reigning Master may be growing short, but I am still head of our village and my decrees will be followed by my apprentice. What is more, your emperor has ordered that his lackey not be harmed."

At the door, Remo felt the fight drain out of him. He felt tired. Chiun's attitude lately had been draining enough. Now this. He exhaled angrily.

"I think it's a bad idea," Remo growled.

"Happily, Remo Williams, the rest of us are not as limited in our ideas as you," Chiun said. "I for one could not live in a space so confining. Now be a good boy for once in your disobedient life and do as you are told."

Shoulders slumping, Remo trudged back across the floor.

Behind his desk, Smith seemed relieved.

"For the time being, this is for the best," the CURE director assured Remo. After the past day he seemed pleased to finally change the subject. "Now, what happened with Alex Wycopf?"

"He's toast," Remo said. He thought of Wycopf's face. "Or scrambled eggs," he amended. "Either way he's history. And I sent General Seesaw back to China with a warning. They should pull back for a while. Assuming they believe him. 'Course, if they don't, knowing them he'll be executed, tried and arrested. In that order."

Smith seemed satisfied with Remo's results. Before he could ask another question, the CURE director was distracted by a beep from his computer. He turned his attention to his monitor as Remo and Chiun sat on the carpet.

"Did you tell the Chinaman my grandfather's words?" Chiun asked Remo as Smith began typing at his keyboard.

"Word for word," Remo replied. "I told him to lay off America or 'the Yangtze flows red with their blood.' It worked pretty good. But he really crapped his kimono when he found out I was a Master of Sinanju."

Chiun arched an eyebrow. "Don't you mean the Master of Sinanju?" he asked blandly.

"No," Remo insisted firmly. "Not this time. I promised myself this on my way back here. You're not sucking me into that again. You're the Master of Sinanju, okay? The one, the only. Accept no substitutes."

"I would like to believe that you still respect me, Remo," Chiun said. "But how can I when it is so plain to me that you are ashamed to be seen with me?"

"I'm not ashamed," Remo said. "It's all in your head."

"Ah, now I see. So I am a nuisance and I'm crazed. Clearly, I have become too great a burden to you. How unfortunate for you that Long Island Sound has no convenient ice floes on which to leave me. Perhaps in his infinite kindness Emperor Smith will give me permanent residence in one of the upper floors of Fortress Folcroft. Once you have assumed Reigning Masterhood, I can be hidden up there to sit and gather dust with the other elderly castaways."

"I've been meaning to talk to you both about that," Smith said. He continued to work, eyes trained on his computer screen. "It is too problematic for you to remain here any longer. Given current circumstances, it is time the two of you found alternative lodgings."