Warren Murphy - Air Raid

"Must be the office Halloween party," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, Smitty," Remo said, putting the photo down. "I don't know what the what is here right now, but I searched the place and came up empty. That Dilbert guy flew the coop. I need you to track him down."

He heard the sound of Smith typing rapidly at his computer. "There is an executive committee that oversees the CCS," the CURE director explained as he worked. "While the current director is Dr. St. Clair, he is answerable to the rest of the leadership. They could be involved." The typing stopped. "The CCS owns a home for St. Clair's use when he is in Geneva," Smith said. He gave Remo the address.

"Thanks, Smitty." He started to hang up.

"Remo," the CURE director said. "Are you certain all the trees were destroyed?"

Remo snapped his fingers. "Thanks for reminding me," he said. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a tiny object.

It was as big as a pea. This was what had caught his eye in the greenhouse when the lightning struck. Remo held up the blue seed for inspection.

"Is something else wrong?" Smith asked after the dead air had gone on between them too long.

"Maybe," Remo said. "Although it could just be the end of the world. I'll get back to you." Slipping the lone C. dioxa seed back into his pocket, he hung up the phone.

Chapter 8

"Where are all the seeds?" Remo announced when he rejoined Amanda and Chiun in one of the CCS labs.

He had brought a framed photograph with him from Amanda's office.

The Master of Sinanju was sitting cross-legged near a big picture window that offered a breathtaking view of the snowcapped Alps. He had removed a handful of his special gold-and-silver envelopes and a stack of writing paper from his kimono folds. The old man was ignoring the scenic view, concentrating on composing another of his mysterious letters.

Amanda was laying out a dress shirt and a pair of pants she'd scavenged from the CCS offices. "What?" she asked, looking up.

When Amanda saw the picture Remo was carrying, she frowned. It was the photo of the C. dioxa that had been hanging on her office wall. The same one Remo had asked about when she first brought them to her office.

"What are you doing with that?" Amanda demanded.

"The seeds," Remo pointed out. He held up the photo in one hand; in the other was the seed he'd found in the greenhouse. "These seeds. You said this was a picture of the latest trees. Well, in the picture they've got seeds. The ones that were chopped down in that nutcase greenhouse of yours didn't have any. So where did they go?"

Near the window the Master of Sinanju paused in his writing. When he lifted his head, his hazel eyes caught a good, hard look at the Alps.

"I don't like Switzerland," the old Korean announced.

Scowling, he returned to his writing.

"The seeds must have been there," Amanda said to Remo. "Hubert had the trees destroyed. It wouldn't make sense for him to do that without destroying the seeds, too."

"I don't know if you missed all the fun back there, Chesty LaRue, but Hubert was that weird-looking little troll who just tried to turn you into a silicone puddle."

Amanda's pretty face puckered in annoyance. She tried pushing her shoulders forward to cave in her chest.

"I don't appreciate sarcasm or insults from the help," she said unhappily. "And I've been thinking about all this. Something's wrong here, I know it. But I just can't believe that Hubert St. Clair is behind it."

"Believe what you want," Remo said. "But you need to get those things checked. Your reception's way off."

Remo picked up the dress shirt, shrugging it on. He rotated his shoulders. "This doesn't feel right," he said.

"Well, it was the best I could do," Amanda said, trying to pretend she wasn't watching him dress. "That was Dr. Riviera's. He died a month ago in a snorkling accident in the Bahamas."

"Your boss probably stuffed shark-nip down his skivvies, and tapped a cork in his pipe," Remo said. He wasn't used to long sleeves. And the shirt was too tight at the wrists. He'd have to pick up a new T-shirt.

"The Swiss are forever professing their neutrality," the Master of Sinanju proclaimed near the window. "Tell me, Remo, what use is there for an assassin in a land where everyone is afraid to choose sides?"

"No use at all, Little Father."

Chiun nodded. "And their mountains are ugly," he said.

"A blight on the land. We should bulldoze them flat and make the whole damned country a parking lot for Germany."

A thin smile touched the old Korean's wrinkled lips. "Sometimes, Remo, you are almost not a disappointment to me," Chiun said.

"I like you, too, Little Father," Remo said. "Care to tell me what all those letters are for?"

"Still none of your business," Chiun replied ominously. He offered Remo the top of his bald head.

"I have a feeling they are," Remo muttered. He grabbed up the pants Amanda had found for him and ducked behind the open door of the lab.

"Maybe Hubert-I don't know-bumped the controls with his elbow on his way out the door," Amanda said. "It could happen. He doesn't like to touch buttons or switches. Maybe he doesn't even know what almost happened." Her face grew suddenly concerned. "Oh, or maybe they got to him, too!"

"Fine with me," Remo said, zipping his fly as he came out from behind the door. He tossed his old pants onto a table. "Someone doing my job for me for a change. I'm sick of always doing all the grunt work. We're going, Chiun."

The Master of Sinanju swept up his writing material.

Cradling an elbow in one hand, Amanda was chewing on the back of her thumbnail. "You're absolutely sure there weren't any seeds on the trees?" she asked, her voice very even.

"Picked clean," Remo said certainly. "My guess is we'll find Hubert Appleseed wearing a tin pot on his head and spreading doomsday seeds from the back of his electric car. That is, assuming we don't all asphyxiate first."

With that, Remo and Chiun left the lab. Amanda's face had grown pale. Assuming Remo was right, with the rest of the C. dioxa team gone, she alone in all the world knew the truth of his words. When she pulled the lab door closed a moment later, Dr. Amanda Lifton's hands were shaking.

Chapter 9

Remo and Chiun had taken a cab from the airport to the Congress of Concerned Scientists complex. Since they were without transportation, Amanda offered to drive to Hubert St. Clair's Geneva retreat.

"This is your car?" Remo asked when she led them to her economical Citroen.

Some of the color had returned to her cheeks. She fumbled in her purse for the keys.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"For starters, where's the rest of it?"

"There's nothing wrong with economy," Amanda insisted. "Who needs a big Detroit gas-guzzler with a TV, a bar and a chauffeur anyway?" Her eyes welled at the memory of better days. "Not me. Excuse me, I've got something in my eye."

She turned, blowing her nose on her sleeve before turning back to unlock the car.

Chiun sat in the front next to Amanda. Remo had to cram himself in the back on a pile of stuffed toys and with an umbrella stabbing him in the side.

Amanda Lifton drove like someone who was used to giving orders from behind a martini glass in the back seat. When she had taken one too many corners on two wheels, Remo finally snapped the umbrella in two and threw it out the window.

"What did you do that for?" Amanda demanded.

"I'm not getting paid to be shish kebabbed," he said.

"Umbrellas aren't free, you know," she said. "I'm telling Daddy you owe me a new one."

"Take it out of your stuffed-animal budget," Remo grumbled, knocking around the pile of toys. "What are you, five?"

"He's not very nice at all," Amanda said to Chiun.

"No, he is not," Chiun agreed. "And since he is by nature a not-nice person, it is making it all the more difficult for him to do one nice thing for another person as is required by our traditions."