Warren Murphy: The Sky is Falling

Now here was Smith not even bothering to set up a cover meeting to protect the organization, walking right into the one sort of situation that could blow it all, walking very publicly up to the hotel suite of his secret killer arm, and making himself vulnerable to questioning by the droves of police roaming the halls on a matter of triple murder.

"It doesn't matter," said Smith, entering the apartment.

"I thought you would have phoned to have me meet you someplace," said Remo, closing the door on the sea of blue uniforms. "Something. Anything. Those cops are going to be questioning the cockroaches before they're through."

"It doesn't matter," repeated Smith:

"Hail, O Emperor Smith. Thy graciousness brings sunlight to darkness, glory to the mud of daily life. Our day is enhanced by your imperial presence. Name but the deed, and we fly to avenge wrongs done to your glorious name." Chiun had said hello.

"Yes," said Smith, clearing his throat. He had said hello. Then he sat down.

"Peasants in this very hotel have been defaming your glorious name during the time of transcendence itself. Lo, I heard them this very morning, loud as machines," said Chiun.

In Korean, Remo told Chiun: "I don't think he cares about the three bodies, Little Father."

Chiun's delicate fingers fluttered in the still air, his silk brocaded kimono rustling as he gave greetings. The Masters of Sinanju never bowed, but they did acknowledge others with a tipping of the body which resembled a bow. Remo knew what it was, but Smith couldn't tell the difference and always waited patiently until it was over. Smith had found he could no more stop this than he could convince Chiun that he was not an emperor and was never intended to be. Several times Smith had thought he'd explained the workings of America's constitutional government to the Master of Sinanju, and Chiun had exclaimed that he understood perfectly, even commenting on some of the passages Smith had read him. But always Remo would later tell him that Chiun thought the Constitution merely contained some beautiful sentiments that had little to do with daily life, like prayers or love poems. He was still puzzled as to why America should be afraid to violate its constitutions when any reasonable emperor would flaunt his power to have his enemies assassinated.

"Gentlemen," began Smith. "What do you know about fluorocarbons?"

"They are evil, O gracious Emperor, and were probably behind the desecrators of your glorious name, this very morning sent to their righteous doom," said Chiun.

"They're the things in spray cans, aren't they?" Remo asked. "They make them work:"

Smith nodded. "Fluorocarbons are a manmade chemical propellant. Their industrial use was severely restricted almost ten years ago."

"He who would make noise during transcendence," observed Chiun, "would make a fluorocarbon that the whole world despises for its ugliness."

"High in the stratosphere lies a layer of ozone gas. It's only about an eighth of an inch thick, but it performs the critical ecological function of filtering harmful solar radiation so it doesn't strike the planet's surface. Unfortunately, these fluorocarbons rose to the stratosphere and began to eat away at the ozone layer faster than new ozone was being produced up there."

"Our gracious ozone," said Chiun. "The swine." And to Remo, in Korean:

"What is this man ranting about? Is he afraid of hair sprays?"

"Will you listen to him, Little Father? The man's talking," Remo whispered back in the Korean dialect of the northwest province in which the village of Sinanju, Chiun's village, was located.

"Hair sprays today, poems about people's rights yesterday. What will it be tomorrow? I say now, as I have said before, let us leave this lunatic's service. The world has never had more despots and tyrants, rulers who would not only pay more, but would properly honor a professional assassin with correct employment." This from Chiun, also in Korean.

"Will you listen?" said Remo.

"Yes," continued Smith. "It is a major problem once more because someone, some lunatic, is shooting holes in the ozone layer on purpose."

"What can you expect from violators of transcendence?" said Chiun. Remo gave him a dirty look. Chiun ignored it. If Remo had a flaw, Chiun knew that it was his lack of expertise in dealing with emperors. Remo followed this Smith, still not realizing that emperors came and went, but the House of Sinanju, of which he was now a part, went on forever. To avoid being an emperor's tool, one should never let him know that he, the emperor, was the tool. One did this by pretending loyalty beyond loyalty.

Smith, who had never looked excessively healthy, appeared even more haggard now. His words were heavy as he spoke, almost as if he had given up hope. And Remo did not know why.

"We have not determined who is doing this, but NASA satellites have detected a stream of concentrated fluorocarbons, obviously manmade, collecting through the atmosphere above the Atlantic Ocean. This stream appeared to open an ozone window above central Russia. We are not sure where it originated but we believe it came from somewhere on this side of the Atlantic. Maybe North America. Maybe South America. In any case it opened up that window."

"Of course," cried Chiun. "This is your chance to destroy your archenemy. Find the wicked fluorocarbons, place them in righteous hands, and then conquer the world. Your wisdom transcends Genghis Khan, O Emperor. They will sing of you as they have sung of the great Attila. Praise be that we are at the birthing of this glorious day. 'Sack Moscow!' is the people's cry."

Smith cleared his throat before continuing. "There are two reasons we must locate that fluorocarbon source. One, it may ultimately rupture the ozone shield. Ground radiation levels under the Russian window indicate that the shield closed itself off in less than a day. Provided that atmospheric ozone levels haven't been seriousiy strained, it will probably be replenished."

Chuin raised a single finger to his wisp of a white beard and nodded sagely. Remo wondered what he was thinking about.

"The second reason is that when we offered to help the Soviets analyze the damage to the ozone over their country, they acted like nothing had happened. And then we picked up the strangest sort of activity. The building of an entire separate missile command. These missiles are unlike anything we have seen before. And we are afraid these new missiles have only one purpose. A first strike."

"How do you know? I mean, how can you tell what's going on in their minds?" asked Remo.

"Our satellites have photographed the new missile bases, so we know they exist. But we haven't picked up any trace of a response mechanism. That's a system that has several layers of checks and counterchecks built into it, so that the missiles are fired only after certain preconditions are met, including a determination that the country has been attacked. It's fairly easy to read from outer space. All we have to do is pick up the electronic signals created by the response mechanism. But this new command doesn't have any of that. They have one phone line and a backup. It's what we call a raw button."

"A what?"

"The only thing you can do with those damned missiles is launch them. There is no waiting for confirmation, no protection against incoming missiles, no launch codes. Nothing. They are already aimed and await the press of a single button. All they need to start World War III is one phone call, and dammit, the way their phones work, a thunderstorm could set off that call."

"We burn either slow from the sun or fast from the Russians," said Remo.

"Exactly," said Smith.

"So what do we do? Where do you want us to go?"

"You wait. Both of you. The entire world is watching the skies for those crazies to try streaming fluorocarbons again. If they do, we'll get a fix on them, and then you two move in. No holds barred. Don't wait for anything. There aren't two people I would rather have between the human race and extinction than you. The President feels the same way. I just hope another incident won't set the Russians off. I never have understood them, and I understand them even less now."