Warren Murphy - Hostile Takeover

"Grab his hands!" Remo said. "He's cutting them to ribbons. "

A spurt of blood went past Chiun's wrinkled face. It came from Plum's punctured wrists.

"He is doing this deliberately," Chiun said, reaching for a flailing wrist.

"I got him," Remo said. He captured Plum around the waist in a bear hug. Plum went limp. His head still hung out the window. Remo pulled, and felt a stubborn resistance.

"I thought you had his hands," Remo complained.

"I do," Chiun insisted.

"Then what's he holding on with-his teeth?"

"I will look."

Chiun leaned his head out to see Plum's face.

He came back solemn-faced.

"You may let go."

"Why?"

"Because this man is dead," Chiun explained quietly. "He has impaled his throat on a glass tooth."

"Damn," Remo said, letting go. He put his head out the window.

Clive Plum was staring out at the Hong Kong skyline. He had the same glassy-eyed stare that Ian had had on his face. The main difference was that Ian was tight-upped in death. Plum's mouth was open. That was because the glass shard that had punctured his throat had also impaled his tongue and forced itself all the way to the roof of his mouth.

Blood was filling his mouth, reddening his teeth-a thick blood-and-saliva river that started to overflow at the corners of Plum's mouth.

Remo came back into the room.

"Great. Now they're both dead."

"You are not doing well today."

"Me? You're not exactly Johnny-on-the-spot with help." "I am only the interpreter," Chiun sniffed.

"Let's see what we can salvage out of this debacle," Remo said. Off in one corner, two computer technicians cowered. Remo crooked a finger in their direction. They looked at one another.

"Both of you," Remo called.

Obediently they approached, trembling like beaten dogs. "I take it all the Reuters bulletins go through this room," Remo said.

"That is correct, sir."

"Who was in charge of it?"

"Ian."

"Is he the dead guy?"

"That is correct."

"Know anything about the rumor that rocked the market earlier today?"

"Yesterday. It was yesterday, our time."

"Just answer the question."

"No. Neither of us does. That was Ian's province."

"Who does he take his orders from?"

"Mr. Plum, sir.

"Who's Plum's boss?

"The home office."

"Where's that?"

"London, sir. "

"The London stock market took a big beating too, didn't it?"

"The entire global market is in a sorry condition. As you know. "

Remo turned to Chiun. "What do you think?"

"I think we have accomplished little enough here," Chiun said. "We must go elsewhere for our answers."

"Sure, but where?"

"Smith will tell us."

"Just as long as you handle Smith," Remo said in disgust. "I'm sick of him, invalid or not."

Chapter 7

Dr. Harold W. Smith didn't consciously hear his intercom buzz. His face frowned when the buzz came again, but it still didn't intrude upon his concentration as he watched the lines of green data scroll up on his computer terminal.

The third time did.

"What is it?" Smith snapped into the intercom.

"They're here to see you, Dr. Smith," Mrs. Mikulka said imperturbably.

"Who is?" Smith asked, not taking his eyes from the screen.

His secretary's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "You know. Those two."

"Show them in," Smith said curtly. He knew exactly whom his secretary meant, and so he was not surprised when the Master of Sinanju breezed into the room. Remo followed him, lugging a red-and-gold-lacquered trunk. Smith recognized it as one of Chiun's traveling trunks and for a moment feared that he was about to lose the Master of Sinanju.

"Greetings, Emperor Smith!" Chiun proclaimed. "I come bearing the solution to all your worries."

"You found something in Hong Kong?" Smith said hopefully.

"That's the bad news," Remo said sourly, dropping the trunk onto the bare floor. "No."

"What happened?" Smith asked anxiously.

"A minor setback," Chiun said, casting a sharp glance in Remo's direction.

"The guy in charge of Reuters' computers was skewered by his boss. Obviously a cover-up."

"My God. Then it is a plot. What happened to the murderer?"

"He committed suicide."

Smith's eyes went sick. "This is bigger than I thought. They have plants in Reuters."

"How do you know this isn't a Reuters plot?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Remo. Reuters is a renowned and respected international news service."

"And Wall Street is an American institution," Remo said acidly. "And it almost went belly-up because of a wild rumor. "

Chiun clapped his hands sharply. "Enough of this trivia. It is time to speak of important things."

"What could be more important than the threat to the world's economy?" Smith asked, blank-faced.

"Nostrum, Inc.," Chiun said loftily. "I wish to take possession of it." Chiun drifted up to Smith's desk, one hand held palm-up. "The keys, please."

"Keys?"

"You do have the keys?"

"You don't need keys to enter the building."

"What! You have left my precious corporation unguarded!" "No, of course not. Trusted employees take care of security matters."

"We will see how trustworthy they are after I have met them," Chiun said harshly.

"The door to Nostrum is open to you at any time," Smith assured the Master of Sinanju. "You have only to walk in the front door."

Chiun frowned.

"In fact, I would like you to take possession of Nostrum immediately."

"You would?" Chiun said suspiciously.

"Sounds too easy, Chiun," Remo called out mischievously. "I'd be careful if I were you. Could be a trap."

"Nonsense," Chiun said. "Do not listen to him, Emperor. He does not speak for me."

"And never has," Remo muttered, sitting on the trunk.

"While you were in Hong Kong," Smith said, " I have been monitoring the fallout from the meltdown. As you know, it began with rumors regarding Global Communications Conglomerate, the largest multimedia group in the world."

"Don't they own that cable network?" Remo asked. "The one that's all-news?"

Smith nodded. "The Global News Network, as well as a movie arm and several newsmagazines. They own some newspapers involved in an FCC effort to force divestiture."

"I do not understand any of this," Chiun sniffed.

"It does not matter," Smith told him. "What does matter is the redistribution of Global stock. It has been concentrated into the hands of a small group of corporations and investment houses, including our own company, Nostrum."

"My own company," Chiun corrected.

"Ahem. Yes," Smith went on. "Putting aside the small amounts of stock that appear to have been snapped up by bottom-fishers, five investors now own large blocks of Global. Aside from Nostrum, there are P. M. Looncraft's brokerage firm, his financial adviser, the Lippincott Mercantile Bank, DeGoone Slickens, the corporate raider, and an offshore company I have never before heard of, Crown Acquisitions, Limited. Each one of these investors has been heavily involved in the troubling hostile-takeover and junkbond mania of the last decade. It's probable that one of these people, at the very least, is after Global, and the others are simply grabbing up stock because they have inside information that Global is a takeover target. Clearly something is in the wind, because Looncraft and Slickens are bitter business enemies."

Chiun looked to Remo in perplexity. Remo just shrugged, as if to say: It's Greek to me too.

"It stands to reason that since Global was the primary target of this rumor, and of the market-meltdown accidental fallout from the maneuver, then one of these companies is responsible for the plot."

"Then Remo will descend upon them and shake the truth from these devious curs," Chiun shouted.