Warren Murphy: Chained Reaction

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"Well, perhaps," said Smith. "But there's one thing left."

Remo's face was grim as he leaned toward Smith.

"As long as I've known you, Smitty, there's always been just one more thing."

"Listen to the emperor, Remo," said Chiun, "who knows but that this one more thing may yet bring glory to your dull life. Tell him, Emperor, tell him. What is this one more wondrous thing?"

Smith cleared his throat. "Yes, well. You know that we can operate only in secrecy. Without secrecy, CURE goes under."

"I've heard that and heard it and heard it," Remo said.

"Our secrecy has been breached. Shattered, I guess, is more accurate."

"Good. Then go out of business. Open a dry goods store someplace up in New Hampshire. Cheat the locals before they cheat you. I know a good real estate agent. If you like houses without roofs."

Chiun looked stern. "Remo, since you have been on television, you have lost all your manners. Is that what being a star has done to you? Show respect for the little people."

"Who are the little people, Chiun?"

"Everybody but me."

"All right, Smitty, I'll hear you out before I laugh in your face. Who breached security this time? And so what?"

"Ruby Gonzalez," Smith said. "And you've got to dispose of her."

Smith watched closely. Remo's face showed no emotion. He simply stood back from Smith's

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chair and looked out a window. "Why don't we talk English, Smitty? You don't mean dispose of her, you mean kill her, don't you ?"

"All right, kill her."

"Stuff it. You forgot that I quit."

"Just this one more thing."

"Never again. I'm retired. You want her hit, talk to Chiun. He's still in the business. But I won't."

Smith looked at Chiun who shook his head sadly. "Any enemy of yours, Emperor, is an enemy of mine. Point them out and they will feel the wrath of Sinanju. But not that girl with the Brussels-sprout ears. Not her."

"Why is she different?"

"She is going to give me a son. It is all arranged."

"You? A son?"

"It will technically be Remo's, of course/' Chiun said.

"I have something to say about this," Remo said without turning.

Behind his back, Chiun shook his head, indicating to Smith that Remo would have nothing to say about it at all.

"So this I cannot do," Chiun said. "Not by my hand can I lose the only good recruit my House will ever have, my chance, like all the other Masters for centuries, to pass on my secrets to someone deserving."

Remo sniffed his disgust.

"Guess you'll have to do it yourself," he said. "Get a taste of what it's like."

"I guess I will," Smith said.

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"You do that." He winked at Chiun who turned his back so Smith would not see him smile.

"I will," said Smith.

There was a knock at the door.

"It's open," Remo called.

Ruby stepped in. She had changed to a sleeveless white dress. Her skin looked as smooth and pure as melted maple ice cream. Her face shone with the young look of a woman who found all the cosmetic help she needed in a bar of soap.

"Hello," she said to Smith. She nodded to Remo and Chiun. "They told you what happened?"

Before Smith could answer, Remo said "No. We never tell him. We just tell him it's taken care of. He doesn't like to hear details because then he might, just might, realize once, just once, that somebody dies every time we make a new corpse for him. He doesn't want to hear about that. He just wants us to send him monthly lists of victims for his statistical charts."

"Gotta have charts," Ruby said mildly.

"Then you talk to him," Remo said. "He's got some business with you anyway. Chiun and I are going next door. You talk with him."

In the next room, as the door closed behind him, Remo asked Chiun, "How long?"

"What is this how long?" said Chiun.

"How long will it take for her to con him out of his socks?"

"How long do you say?" asked Chiun.

"Five minutes," said Remo.

"Three," said Chiun.

"You're on. Nobody can con Smith in three minutes. My own personal record is five minutes fifteen."

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"What are we wagering?" asked Chiun.

"Anything you want, Little Father."

"Anything?"

"Anything except that," Remo said.

In the next room, Ruby sat in a chair facing Smith, who drummed his fingertips on the small blond formica desk.

Finally Ruby broke the silence. "How you gonna do it?"

"Excuse me?"

"You. How you gonna do it? A gun or what?"

Smith sat back in his chair. "How do you know that?"

"It's not hard. You're the brains of this here operation. It's what I'd do if it came to it."

"Oh, I see," said Smith. He had never had anyone offer himself up for killing before.

"Course it might not be in your best interests," said Ruby.

"Perhaps you'd tell me why."

"Sure. Since't I came here and I knew what you were fixin' to do, I'd be kind of a dope to just walk in and let it go like that. So I took precautions."

"What kind of precautions?"

"I wrote down everything I know and I spread it around a bit."

"I've heard that many times before," Smith said.

"Yeah, I know. Somebody's always giving something to their lawyer for when they die and like that. And then you get to the lawyer first so nothing happens. Well, I didn't do that. I left everything where the CIA gets it if I die."

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Smith looked at Ruby with narrowed eyes.

She nodded.

"I figured you can maybe get to my lawyer or something, maybe make sure that what I tell him don't get out. But the CIA? They gonna have a field day when they find out what you doing when they been getting their ears pinned back for less. They never let up on you. CURE goes right down the drain."

Smith sighed and Ruby said, "Now look at the good side."

"There is no good side."

"Sure, there is. First you think I know a little bit about your organization, enough to be dangerous. And that's only part right. I know a whole lot about your organization."

"How'd you learn that?"

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I been with them on two separate things now. You have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to find things out. I know who you are and where you operate and what you do and what you do personally and what they do and I have an idea of what you spend and where the President keeps the phone he calls you on and what your telephone codes are. Like that. Ceppin' for you, I guess I know more about your operation than anybody in the world."

"Just what I needed," Smith said. "A woman who knows too much that I can't get rid of."

"Want me to tell you what to do ?" asked Ruby.

"What?"

"Hire me."

"Hire you? What for?"

"Nothing special. Not right now. But I hear

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things. I keep track of things. Sometimes you need special help, you call me. I smart and I don't say nothin' to nobody."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. That's why this is your lucky day," said Ruby.

"How much do you want?"

"Make me an offer."

"Five thousand dollars."

"You fooling," Ruby said.

"Why?"

"I making twenty-five with the CIA before I left."

"For what?" asked Smith. His first salary with the CIA had been seven thousand dollars a year, but that was long ago.

"For hanging around. In three years, they call me once. They send me down to that island and I run into those two inside there. I helped you then and when I got back, I didn't go running around, telling everybody I was a big spy, helping a big secret organization."

"I'll give you twenty-three," said Smith, surrendering.

"Thirty," said Ruby.

"Split the difference. Twenty-five," said Smith.

"Splittin' the difference is twenty-six five."

"All right," Smith said, swallowing hard. "But it's banditry."