Warren Murphy: Angry White Mailmen

Bloopf

Chapter 35

Three days later, Remo and Chiun were in their bell- tower meditation room watching television when the telephone rang.

"I got it," said Remo.

It was Harold Smith. "The autopsy report came in on the Deaf Mullah," he said.

"What'd it say?"

"The FBI pathologist wanted to put down 'cause unknown,' but political pressures forced him to state a definite cause of death. He has it down as 'shaken baby syndrome.'"

"Yeah, before we left the mosque, I took the Deaf Mullah's head in my hand and shook it until his brains pureed like a milk shake."

"It will go down as a consequence of the launching of the Fist of Allah."

"They got it out of the water yet?"

"The Army Corps of Engineers are still working on that. Now that we know it was only a radiological bomb and not a true thermonuclear device, it is not so delicate a task. EPA should be able to contain any ra­diation leakage."

"Still, if it had gone off, it would have been pretty bad." "They could have brought down the World Trade Center, crippling the city, killing thousands and mak­ing lower Manhattan uninhabitable for decades to come. Except for one minor detail."

"What's that?" asked Remo.

"The Fist of Allah has been measured. It was five feet too wide to fit through the Lincoln Tunnel. It would never have made it onto the island."

Remo laughed. When he was done, he asked, "So where did they get Fist of Allah?"

"It was a NASA surplus missile carrier they con­verted for the purpose. I am still attempting to trace the radioactive waste they filled it with, but there are many unscrupulous waste-disposal companies per­fectly willing to allow such materials to fall into ques­tionable hands for a price.

"The FBI roundup appears to have gotten every re­maining Messenger of Muhammad, so that crisis is settled," Smith continued.

"What about the fake Deaf Mullah—the one in solitary?"

"He was willing to serve out the real Deaf Mullah's time for the cause. He will continue to enjoy that privilege."

"Is the mail moving again?"

"Given the current state of the postal service, it may be weeks before anyone can answer that question au­thoritatively," Smith said without sarcasm.

"That pretty much wraps things up, doesn't it?"

"Until the next crisis," Smith said firmly.

"Still smarting from baby-sitting duty?"

"Abeer Ghula should be drowned like an un­wanted kitten," Smith said bitterly.

"Guess you won't be watching her interview to­night."

"Hardly."

"Tamayo Tanaka's going to interview her. Chiun and I are planning to watch because we're the only ones who know who Abeer's blond infidel really is."

"You are welcome to do what you wish," said Harold Smith, hanging up.

After Remo returned to his floor mat, Chiun asked, "Emperor Smith was pleased?"

"Didn't say a word about Osaka."

Chiun nodded. "Then our positions are secure."

"Guess we watch no Woos tonight."

"One night is permissible," allowed Chiun.

"Then it'll be back to the same old Woo."

"The incomparable Woo."

"Somehow I don't think we're talking about the same Woo."

Tamayo Tanaka's heartwas pounding. Her latest chance to go national was only ten minutes away, and the wall clock was ticking like a time bomb. She had an exclusive with Abeer Ghula, and all she had had to do was promise a couple of FBI guards a wild mid­night dance on a queen-size bed at the Helmsley Park Lane Hotel.

Which she never, ever intended to deliver. She had made the promise as Tammy Terrill.

Alone in the New York-affiliate interview studio, she smoothed her jet black wig and checked to see that her oblique eyes matched.

A technician poked his head in. "Ghula's here."

"All set," Tamayo said. This was it. All she had to do was keep that crazy witch from recognizing her voice, and she was home free.

Abeer Ghula swayed into the studio wearing a Nile green floor-length dress that threatened her modesty at three critical points.

Without a word, she sat down and regarded Ta­mayo with her baleful eagle's eyes.

"I'm Tamayo," Tammy said as the technician tried to find a safe place to attach Abeer's lavaliere micro­phone. Her cleavage was threatening to explode free at the slightest disturbance, so he just placed it on her lap while Abeer reached around to pinch his buttocks with her black-nailed fingers.

"Later we will talk about my womanly needs," she told the hastily retreating technician.

Then she noticed Tamayo's outstretched hand.

Coolly she lifted her own, saying, "Have you heard the wonderful news about Um Allaha?"

Tamayo smiled as hard as she could. "I want to hear all about her," she cooed as the director started throwing signals. "But let's save it for on-air."

At that point, Abeer relinquished Tamayo's hand, and suddenly she noticed the black-and-blue bite marks on Tamayo's thumb.

"What is this?" she demanded tightly.

"Caught my thumb in a strange zipper," Tamayo said hastily.

Abruptly, Abeer twisted Tamayo's wrist, bringing the wounded thumb closer.

"Teeth marks! I know these. I set such marks on the helpless tools of both my husbands. Where did you get these? How could you have these upon your body? I have never tasted you. I have never sampled any Jap­anese infidel."

One eye on the threatened cue and the other on the still-dead tally light, Tamayo started to protest when under the hot lights her right eye popped back into its naturally round shape.

This was not lost on Abeer Ghula, who said, "What is wrong with your eye, woman?"

"Oh, damn," said Tamayo, clawing at her face. A brown contact lens dropped into her lap, and this brought Abeer Ghula out of her chair and into Tamayo's hair.

"You have blue eyes! And yellow hair!" Abeer shrieked, whipping the wig away. "You are my infi­del!"

"And I'll be your faithful slave if you just sit still long enough to do this interview," Tamayo said fran­tically just before the hard slap knocked her off her chair.

"Deceiver! Um Allaha will punish you after you are dead!"

When the tally light came on, Abeer Ghula was al­ready out of the studio and in hot pursuit of the pinched technician.

The image broadcastto the nation lasted only ten seconds. But it was long enough for Remo and Chiun to absorb the indelible image of a blond Tamayo Tanaka trying to fumble her black wig onto her head while simultaneously sucking on her thumb.

"That's the biz," laughed Remo as Chiun reached for the remote control.