Warren Murphy: Last Call

The premier seemed oblivious to the chase. His neck was craned and he was looking out across the broad network of runways and hangers at the scores of commercial jetliners. His wife, though, saw the two following cars. She looked toward Karbenko.

"Are they your men, Vassily?" she asked.

"No."

The two cars had pulled up even with Karbenko now. The occupants looked like Americans, Remo thought. The cars started to pull ahead.

"They're going to nose in and nip you between them," Remo said.

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"I know," said Karbenko.

The car on the right had its driver's window open.

Remo rolled down his window.

"Vassily," he said. "You stomp on that gas pedal and swerve in close to this car."

"What for?"

"Just do it," Remo said. "When I tell you." Remo raised himself up in the seat, and put his left .hand on the door of his car. The car was about two feet in front of them.

"Now," Remo yelled. Karbenko pressed down heavy on the accelerator. The big powerful car surged forward and as it came alongside the car on the right, Karbenko swung the wheel so that only a few inches separated the two cars. At that moment, Remo leaned out his open window. His hands flashed into the car alongside them. Karbenko heard a cracking noise. He glanced to his right, in time to see Remo sinking back into his seat, the steering wheel from the other car in his hands. Beyond Remo, the driver of the other car looked as if he had gone into shock. His face was contorted and his hands waved futilely as he sought some way to steer the car, ripping along the runway at almost 80 miles an hour.

"Get out of here," Remo said. Karbenko powered the Chevrolet forward, just as the driver of the car to their right hit the brakes. But his wheels were not straight and the sudden braking action spun the car sideways and its 80-mile-an-hour forward momentum turned the car over on its side. As Karbenko watched in the rearview mirror, he saw the car roll over three times and

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then, upside down, skid into the second chase car, knocking it out of control and into a flat grassy field next to the runway, where the driver finally muscled it to a stop.

The four men got out of the car and were running back to free the occupants of the overturned car, when Karbenko pulled onto a narrow gravel road, slowed down, and turned sharply into the line of afternoon traffic.

"Vassily," the premier said. "Don't drive so fast. It makes me nervous."

"No, sir," Karbenko said. He grinned at Remo, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Any idea who that was?" Remo asked.

"Yes," Karbenko said. "I know who it was."

Karbenko had rented three rooms in the name of the Earp family at an eight-dollar-a-night budget motel outside Washington. He left the premier and his wife in the car while he went inside and inspected the three adjoining rooms.

"Is this where visiting officials always stay?" the premier asked Remo.

"Only heads of state," Remo said. "We've got a tent in one of the town parks for everybody else."

"Oh," the premier said. "I do not think I would enjoy sleeping in a tent."

Nina asked Remo, "Have you been a friend of Vassily's for a long time?"

"Not really," said Remo. "It's been a short but intense relationship."

"Why is everybody talking to him?" Chiun asked from his rear seat next to Nina. "I am real-

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ly much more interesting than this thing. If you like, I will tell you about my screenplay."

"What is a screenplay?" asked Nina.

"It is a story for a motion picture," Chiun said. "In your country, they are about tractors and farmers."

"Tell me your story," Nina said.

"You'll be sorry," Remo said.

"Quiet," said Chiun, "or I will write you out of the picture."

"Yes," said the premier. "Tell us this wonderful story."

Chiun was describing the quiet, gentle, peace-loving, handsome, noble, virtuous, and strong main character of the film when Karbenko came back and ushered the premier and his wife into the central of the three motel rooms.

As they unpacked, Chiun was getting around to the fact that this beautiful soul was not appreciated by those around him, particularly those upon whom he had squandered the gift of knowledge only to find them incapable of receiving it.

Karbenko took Remo aside.

"Those were Stantington's men at the airport. I want to go talk to him."

"I'll go with you," Remo said.

"The premier-" Karbenko began.

"He'll be safe," Remo said. "I've heard this screenplay before. It's got four more hours to run. Chiun will never let anything happen to his audience until he's done with the story. We'll be back by then."

"He is very old. Can he protect them?" Karbenko asked.

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"If he can't," said Remo, "no one in the world can. Don't write that off as a typical American exaggeration. That's a fact. No one in the world, if he can't."

Chiun had decided that the premier and his wife would probably appreciate the story more if it was told in Russian. He began to tell it in Russian. He started again at the beginning.

Riding up in the elevator toward Stantington's office, Remo asked, "Any ideas on the assassin?"

"None," said Karbenko. "But thank god, he's back in Russia. Let the KGB there find out who he is."

"If they're like our CIA, you're going to have a long wait," Remo said.

"Ain't it the truth, pardner ?"

Remo's special director's office pass got them through the guards to Stantington's office complex and the secretary's memory of Remo got them inside Stantington's private office.

"What are you doing here?" Stantington said when he came out of his bathroom. He was staring at Remo.

"He drove me here to make sure I didn't get in an automobile accident," Karbenko said. Stantington glared at him angrily.

"You know that the premier has arrived?" Karbenko said.

Stantington nodded.

"He is staying at the Colony Astor," Karbenko said, naming one of Washington's poshest and oldest hotels. "Can I count on you to assign men there to assist us in protecting him?"

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"I have been ordered not to get involved," Stantington said.

"But I'm requesting your help," Karbenko said. "I think that changes the situation."

Stantington sat down behind his desk. "Yes, I suppose it does," he said. "And are you staying at the Colony Astor, too ?"

Karbenko nodded. "The premier and his wife are in Room 1902. My men and I are in 1900 and 1904, on both sides of them. I'd like to have some of your men spotted around the hotel, the lobby, the public rooms. Just to watch out for anybody suspicious."

"All right," Stantington said. "I'll have them there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," Karbenko said. "An unusual thing happened at the airport by the way."

"Oh? What was that?"

"Our car was chased by two carloads of men. Fortunately, they had an accident and we got away."

"Lucky for you," Stantington said.

"Yes, wasn't it? I wonder why they were there?"

Stantington shrugged. "Perhaps they thought the premier was in some danger?"

"Perhaps," Karbenko said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Admiral."

Riding back down in the elevator, Remo asked Karbenko, "Why'd you let him off the hook, if you know those were his guys at the airport?"

"There was no need to push it. I know and he knows I know. I just wanted to be sure what he was up to."

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"What is he up to?"

"He thinks I'm the assassin," Karbenko said.

"Are you?"

"If it was me, buddy, he'd be dead by now," the Russian spy said.

"Why'd you give him the song and dance about the Colony Astor Hotel ?"

"If he put men out searching for us, they might get lucky and find us," Karbenko said. "This way, he can tie up his men at the other hotel and they won't bother us."