Warren Murphy - The Ultimate Death

"This place is a commune?" Remo asked, surprised.

Mary Melissa winced. "Such an old-fashioned term. We do have sleeping facilities on the premises for those who wish to stay here, but most of our staff have families just like everyone else. They punch out and go home at five."

They were strolling along one of the many glass-lined hallways of the Three-G, Inc. complex. The place was a labyrinth of spotlessly clean windows. It looked modern enough to have a jump on the twenty-first century.

Remo sensed a living creature cringing in a corner. He turned, and stooped to pick it up.

"Yours?" he asked, stroking the back of an emaciated tiger-striped cat.

He held the creature out to her, but suddenly it began to spit. Fangs bared, it began to claw the air in front of Mary Melissa Mercy. She retreated, her hands going to her mirror sunglasses.

"I withdraw the question," Remo said.

"Sometimes I have that effect on animals," Mary said by way of explanation. Remo raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it belongs to one of the workers," she added quickly. "She's feeding it a strict no-meat diet."

"That explains the mange," Remo said, turning the animal loose. It scurried down the hallway, nearly tripping an approaching figure just rounding the corner.

Remo saw the new arrival's legs were smooth and flawless, escaping upward into an agonizingly short skirt. Her body was rounded and curved to beautiful perfection, her neck slender and long.

Her face, on the other hand, looked like she had spent the past twenty years pounding it on a flat rock.

"Ms. McGlone," Mary Melissa said, acknowledging the other woman, who thrust out a thick slab of computer printouts.

"Here are the storyboards the ad people came up with for us." The woman's voice was a bray, and her teeth jutted from her mouth at bizarre angles, Remo noticed.

"We're gearing up production on our new Bran-licious Chunk Bar," Mary Melissa explained to Remo. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, how rude of me. Elvira McGlone, Remo . . ."

"MacLeavy," Remo said.

"Elvira is in charge of marketing."

As they exchanged indifferent nods, Remo noticed McGlone's ten pointed fingernails. They had been painted a deep red, like broad hypodermic needles charged with blood.

She didn't give Remo a second glance. "I have everything set up for you in my office."

"Fine," said Mary Melissa, curtly. "We'll discuss it when I have a free minute."

"But I'm ready for you now. The ad people are anxious to get this campaign started."

"Later," said Mary Melissa Mercy. There was just a hint of steel in her voice.

Remo was surprised that a battle-ax like Elvira McGlone could be cowed so easily. But she lowered her head like a scolded child and stopped her arguing in mid-whine. She flung a halfhearted "pleased to meet you" at Remo before skulking down the hall.

After she had gone, Mary Melissa Mercy turned to Remo. "Elvira wants to make an enormous splash in the media. It's something Three-G has never done before," she whispered. "I think she expects the Bran-licious Chunk Bar to push us from the health stores into the mainstream. I can't really blame her. It is the creation of Mr. Gideon himself."

"He the owner?" Remo asked.

"Was the owner," Mary Melissa said, her voice sad. "He passed away recently."

"Too bad," Remo said. He had begun peering past her through the inner windows, where flies buzzed amid a profusion of greenery. Remo caught a flash of silver and blue. Chiun. Looking for poison in the garden. This could take all day.

"Three-G has been taken over by a simply delightful old gentleman with wonderful Old World ideas," Mary Melissa was saying. "I'd love for you to meet him."

"Some other time," Remo said. He was debating whether or not to tap on the glass. They had to get out of here and back on the trail.

"Please?"

"Sorry."

"But he's just like your friend."

"All the more reason to avoid him."

"Here," said Mary Melissa helpfully, "if you're looking for your friend, I can call downstairs and have him paged for you. My office is just around the corner."

Remo turned away from the window and shrugged. "Lead the way."

Mary Melissa Mercy's office was large and richly furnished. One entire wall was a window that opened to the lush garden beyond.

Mary Melissa crossed to her desk, leaned her rear against its gleaming top, and stabbed out a three-digit number on her phone. After issuing a brief command, she replaced the receiver.

"They'll let us know when they find him," Mary Melissa assured Remo. "In the meantime, it appears we have a little time to kill . . . ." She uncrossed her legs. In the briefest flash, Remo could see that she wore nothing under her skirt. "What do you think we should do?"

It was clearly an invitation.

Remo knew what he should be doing. He knew he should be collaring Chiun and getting out of this dead end. But as usual Chiun had some weird ideas of his own, and besides, there was something about Mary Melissa Mercy that Remo was finding strangely fascinating.

He wondered what color her eyes were.

The Master of Sinanju wandered aimlessly. Eventually, he would rejoin Remo and report that somehow the trail to the poisoners led to some other distant point. Tokyo, possibly. Remo would certainly believe that the Japanese were poisoning American ducks without further explanation. It would fit Remo's perception of the Japanese, as fostered by the Master of Sinanju's sage instruction.

Perhaps he could even entice him to Sinanju, eventually.

There, they would bide their time and draw strength until they were in a better position to strike back at the gyonshi menace. For now, it was too soon.

The Master of Sinanju's meanderings through the Three-G complex brought him to the very heart of the building. He had been drawn to this place by a scent.

It was most curious. At first he had thought his senses were playing tricks on him, but then he realized how ludicrous a thought that was. The rotten odor was pouring down the brightly lit hallways, drawing him to this place. Along with the numerous flies.

It was a garden as rich in beauty as any of ancient times.

It nestled in the center of the building, surrounded on three sides by walls of glass. Some of the trees were too large to have been planted here since the building's construction. The builders must have taken care to stack their sheets of glass around the existing plant life.

The flowers, plants, and herbs were glorious and gigantic. The colors were lush and lovely. The smell was nearly overwhelming.

The Master of Sinanju walked past rows of giant sunflowers, hanging orchids, clinging vines, and leaves so thick and full they reminded him of a tropical rain forest.

He peered up to the top of the Three-G building, and at the afternoon sky above it. Chiun stroked his wisp of a beard appreciatively. The structure, while ugly in the way that most Western architecture was ugly, did at least serve some function. The cunning design of the reflective walls made this place a most effective atrium.

Even in his state of discomfiture, Chiun was pleasantly surprised to find something of such rare beauty in such a barbaric land.

His pace livened, as he followed a gravelly path through a copse of gnarled birch trees to a cluster of blooming lilacs.

The massive shell of a dead oak tree slouched at the end of the path. It was black, but speckled with a million crawling red ants. Great sheets of bark had peeled away and littered the ground in decaying heaps. Its thick, barren branches clawed longingly at the sunlight.

Near the tree, Chiun bent at the waist to take in the beautiful aroma of the flowering shrubs. He pulled it deep into the pit of his stomach and released. He was about to inhale a second time when he noticed it.