Warren Murphy: Return Engagement

"Peekaboo," said a squeaky voice behind him. He turned. It was the Oriental.

"Come and get me," taunted Chiun.

Konrad Blutsturz did not come and get Chiun. He stepped back. And felt both legs lock. He strained, but something kept his legs from moving. Something in the water. Of course, the young one. Remo.

"I can have him tip you into the water," said Chiun. "He has you by both legs. If you fall, as heavy as you are, you will drown."

"No!" screamed Konrad Blutsturz. "I will not be cheated. Not after forty years. Smith! Smith! Call them off, Smith. Face me like a man. I dare you to face me, Smith,"

Harold Smith emerged from the cabin. He was struggling with the nebulizer. Its wheels kept sinking into the muddy ground.

"Don't kill him," Smith called. "He's the only one who knows where my wife is."

The sound of Smith's voice carried underwater, where Remo held Konrad Blutsturz' stiff legs in place. He climbed to the surface like a man climbing two poles, without releasing either titanium leg.

When he cleared the water, Remo asked, "What do I do, Little Father?"

"Do not listen to Smith," said Chiun in Korean. "We have Bloodsucker where we want him now." Blutsturz swung at Remo, but his arm was too short. He raged inarticulately. Remo shook the legs violently in annoyance. Blutsturz groaned.

"But you heard Smith," Remo said. "This guy knows where Mrs. Smith is."

"Emperors' wives can be replaced," retorted Chiun. "This thing must be extinguished now before he causes more harm."

"I thought you always taught me to obey an emperor," Remo reminded him.

"You obey your emperor," said Chiun, "after you obey your Master."

''Maybe I can do both," Remo said, yanking hard. Konrad Blutsturz felt himself twisting, tipping. He fell hard, his upper body crashing into the mangrove growth. He clawed at the solid ground, retracting his legs behind him.

Remo and Chiun climbed up after him, but Blutsturz was already on his feet when they reached him.

"It will be harder now," Chinn snapped at Remo.

"Smith wants him alive," Remo said. "He gets him alive. "

Konrad Blutsturz flailed wildly at both men with his titanium blade. They ducked his blows, twin blurs of unstoppable motion. Each time he swung, the swing passed right through them. Or seemed to. He knew they were not human. But then, neither was he anymore.

And each time he missed, they would send a tormenting blow to his naked torso, where he was vulnerable, "He is weakening," said Chiun in Korean.

"I have an idea," said Remo. "Try kicking a leg out from under him."

"It will do no good," said Chiun, aiming for the right leg. The leg gave before his lightning blew. For a half-second Konrad Blutsturz was poised on one long leg; then the other found its footing, controlled by computerized internal stabilizers.

"See?" said Clriun.

"Try again," said Remo, circling behind the towering, sweating figure.

Chiun struck again. This time Remo also kicked. Both kicks moved with the striking power of a piston. Both aimed at the precise same point-the leg section below the collapsible knee joint.

The leg, touched by the kick of the Master of Sinanju, retreated with microprocessor speed.

And collided into Remo's striking toe.

Titanium parts collapsed, spitting off in all directions. Konrad Blutsturz staggered, his maimed leg waving crazily, seeking footing and stability.

Like a fantastic living tree, Konrad Blutsturz fell, raving, to the ground.

"Smith!" he yelled. "I will not be cheated! We are not done yet!"

And he wasn't. Konrad Blutsturz threshed like the machine he was, chewing up plants and sending clods of swamp muck into the air.

"Stay back, Little Father. He's still dangerous."

"I know," said the Master of Sinanju.

"Remo! Chiun! Stand clear," Harold Smith called from the cabin door.

"What?" shouted Remo.

"I said stand clear." When they moved out of the way, Smith triggered the nebulizer.

On the ground, the churning mechanical limbs of Konrad Blutsturz began to waver and blur. What had been hard metallic joints threw off globs of cold slag, melted, and ran.

In a matter of an instant, the dried husk that was the human part of Konrad Blutsturz flopped in a liquid puddle that was dribbling down the bank and into the water.

With a savage cry, Blatsturz pushed free of the pool of titanium and scrambled at Harold Smith. He hopped on the stumps of his legs in a horrible mockery of human locomotion, keeping his body upright with his one arm.

Harold Smith saw the thing bearing down on him, and it was like being attacked in a nightmare. What was now Konrad Blutsturz was less than three feet tall, but over and over again he cried one word in a voice that sent the alligators plunging into the safety of the water for miles around. "Smith! Smith! Smith!"

And Harold W. Smith, shaken by the hatred that animated the thing creeping toward him, was forced to shoot.

He pumped two bullets into Blutsturz' hobbling form, but even that did not stop him.

The third bullet did. It slammed Blutsturz into a low somersault.

Smith drew close to the bleeding body that was a head and a torso and not much more, his automatic shaking in his fist-the same automatic he had carried in Tokyo.

"My wife," Smith demanded. "Where is she?"

"Dead," croaked Konrad Blutsturz. "Dead. I am revenged in that at least. Revenged."

And Smith, horror riding his features, fired a last bullet into Blutsturz' head.

"I'm sorry, Smitty," Remo told him.

Smith stood with a stupid expression on his face. "Dead," he said weakly. "She's dead."

"We will scour these Everglades," cried Chiun. "We will recover the body of the emperor's wife so that she may be buried with honor." And he kicked the corpse in spite.

"No," said Harold Smith. "No. Just . . . just take me back to Folcroft. Please."

Chapter 30

Dr. Harold W. Smith walked stiffly into his office. It was late at night, and outside the picture window a heavy snow was falling.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Remo asked gently. "Wouldn't you rather be home?"

"There is nothing there for me anymore," Smith said dully, dropping into his age-cracked leather chair. "Folcroft is my home now."

Smith got out the red phone and waited while the line automatically rang an identical phone in the bedroom of the President of the United States.

After a moment, Smith spoke.

"My report, Mr. President. I regret to inform you that Ferris D'Orr is dead. Murdered by kidnappers.... Yes, it is regrettable. My person did all he could. However, the nebulizer is secure and we have eliminated the persons responsible. There will be no more difficulty from that quarter."

Smith paused, listening. Finally he said, "Thank you for understanding, Mr. President," and hung up.

"I don't get you, Smitty," said Remo. He had been wanting to ask him a question, but during the flight back, Smith had insisted, for security reasons, on not sitting with them on the plane. "That was your wife we left back there. Why wouldn't you let us hunt for the body?"

"And how would I have reported her death?" asked Smith bitterly. "Any police inquiry would automatically include questioning me. They would ask for my whereabouts on the day of the murder. They would place me in Florida and then what would I tell them? CURE's security would have been jeopardized."

"Is the organization so important that you couldn't take the risk?" Remo asked.

"CURE is all I have now," Smith said tonelessly.

"How will you explain away her disappearance?" wondered Remo.

"I'll think of something."

"Where's Chiun?" asked Remo suddenly. "I thought he was right behind me."

"I saw him talking to a guard on the way in. Why don't you go to him, Remo? I would prefer to be alone just now."