Warren Murphy: Bamboo Dragon

"Ceratosaurus," Remo said, correcting him. "I did some reading on the plane. It's a Jurassic meat eater, assuming that it's still alive. I guess it didn't read about the great extinction in the papers."

"Most amusing." There was clearly something on Smith's mind. "I understand that Dr. Stockwell is convinced there may be… well… "

"More dinosaurs," said Remo, finishing the sentence for him.

"Yes."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for us, specifically," Smith said. "I mean, it's hardly national-security material. Unless… "

"Don't tell me."

"If he's right, it stands to reason someone may go looking for them. I mean, it's hardly something that the scientific world could manage to ignore."

"If anyone was listening," said Remo. "I was told you had the situation under wraps."

"Our end," said Dr. Smith. "Professor Stockwell will be spending several weeks with us at Folcroft, working through his little problem. In the end, I'm confident he'll realize that he was subject to delusions. All that stress, the loss of valued colleagues, jungle fever—it was only natural that he should lose touch with reality."

"You'll have a problem holding him," said Remo. "He's an egghead with a following in Washington, you may recall."

"Georgetown enjoys the bounty of substantial federal grants," Smith said, recovering a portion of his jaundiced smile. "They're telling anyone who asks that Dr. Stockwell is recuperating from his trip in private, holding off on any monographs and statements for a while."

"So, what's the problem?" Remo asked.

"Well, as I said, that's only our end of the pipeline. There were other witnesses, Malaysians, who could spill the beans."

"I've taken care of that," said Remo.

"Oh? How so?" asked Dr. Smith.

"I had a word with Stockwell's baby-sitter," Remo said. "Chiun helped. Between us, we persuaded him that any mention of a living dinosaur would cause more problems for his country than it solved."

"He bought that?" Dr. Smith was clearly skeptical. "I would imagine they're already printing tickets for a new exhibit at the zoo."

"Not quite. They're anxious to avoid discussing how one of their crack commando squads wiped out the last survivors of a previously undiscovered tribe and let the dinosaur escape. Bad ink in that, you know? I would imagine they could catch some heavy flak from the United Nations, not to mention various environmental groups. You mention genocide in certain circles these days, and you're talking automatic tourist boycotts."

"It's something to consider, I suppose," Smith said. "Still, news like this is difficult to bury. Even if it only leaks out through the tabloid press… "

"Forget it," Remo said. "I can't see any redneck housewives flying to Malaysia for a dinosaur hunt."

Smith frowned and shook his head. "My point is that eventually someone's bound to spill the beans, you see? And when that happens, there will be investigations."

"Maybe so. I'm betting we're retired by then."

"Retirement's looking better all the time," Smith said. "Have you considered what could happen if a living specimen wound up in other hands?"

Smith spoke the last two words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. The strained expression on his face made Remo smile, despite an effort to restrain himself.

"Can't say I've given it much thought."

"We could be faced," Smith told him sternly, "with a dinosaur gap!"

"You're sending someone," Remo said. It didn't come out sounding like a question.

"No," Smith said. "Not yet, I mean. We'll have to think about it. Wait and see."

"Chiun won't be happy."

"Chiun?"

"He wanted me to give you some advice," said Remo, rattling off a burst of rapid-fire Korean with the accent of a native.

"May I ask what that's supposed to mean?"

"Let sleeping dragons lie," said Remo, "or they just might turn around and bite you on the ass."