Warren Murphy: Deadly Seeds

"That'd be their tough luck."

"Maybe yours too," said Smith. "Be careful."

"Your concern is deeply appreciated."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maria did not return until the next day, but she would not have had time to take off her hat before the room clerk at the Hotel Needham called Remo.

"Hey, pal, this is your old friend at the Hotel Needham."

"She's back?"

"Just got in." He paused. "Your turn now," he added with a dirty-minded chuckle.

"Thanks," said Remo who did not feel thanks and determined then to beat the clerk out of the fifty he had promised him.

Maria was a long time answering Remo's knocking at the door and when she did her face was drawn and pallid.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "Well, as long as you are here, come in. But don't ask me to go the lengths."

"What's wrong? You look awful."

"I feel awful," said Maria. She wore an identical outfit to the one she had worn two days before. She locked the door behind Remo and then sat down heavily on the chair at the small Formica-topped desk the Hotel Needham provided, apparently for that .0001 percent of people who paid by check. She tried a thin smile. "Must be Montezuma's revenge. I have the upthrows."

Rerno sat on the edge of the bed facing her.

"So what did you find out?"

"And why should I tell you? We are on different sides."

"No, we're not. We both want Fielding's formulas to get to the world. If you can steal them for your country, fine," Remo lied. "I'm only worried about keeping him alive so that everyone isn't cheated out of them."

Maria did not speak as she thought about this for a while. "All right," she said finally. "Anyway, it is not like I am giving away anything. You are the keeper of the Constitution. If I do not cooperate, you may have me deported from your country. Or worse. Is that not right?"

"That's it exactly," said Remo. If justification was what she wanted, justification was what she'd get. "I'd go to any lengths to find out what you learned."

Maria raised a right index finger in warning. "I told you. No 'to the lengths'." Remo noticed the tip of her finger was discolored and blistered.

"So what did you find?"

"I found Mr. Fielding's warehouse. It is not in Denver however. It is outside Denver. It is in a big building that is carved into the side of a rocky hill outside the city."

"And what was there?"

"Nothing. Barrels of grain. And barrels of a liquid I could not identify." She held up her finger again. "Whatever it was, it was powerful. It did this to me." She looked ruefully at the blister, seemed about to speak, then jumped to her feet and ran for the bathroom. Remo could hear her retching, and then the toilet being flushed. Maria returned, her face even whiter than before.

"Forgive me."

"No workers there? No guards. Nobody?"

"There was no one to be seen. Just barrels and that was all." Her voice trailed off as she spoke and she seemed ready to pass out. Remo got up and went to her side.

"Listen, Maria. You've got probably a touch of flu or virus or something."

"A virus," she said. "Americans always have the virus."

"Right," Remo said. "A virus. Anyway, you shouldn't stay here alone until you're well. I want you to come with me."

"Aha. A Yankee plot. Get Maria away from her room and then throw her in a dungeon."

"We don't have dungeons. Except in New York, and there they call them apartments."

"All right. A jail cell."

"No. Just a clean hotel room where you can get some rest."

"Alone? With you? That is not moral."

Remo thought this strange for a girl who forty-eight hours before had gone to the lengths, but he shook his head. "No. We'll have a chaperone. Chiun."

"The gracious Oriental?"

"I think so."

"Good. Then I will go. He is a man of much wisdom and kindness and he will protect me from you."

In the lobby, Remo sat Maria in the only chair that might have won even conditional approval from the city's building department and approached the oily clerk.

"I owe you something," said Remo.

"Well, don't look on it as owing. I did a favor. You're going to do me a favor."

Remo nodded. "Fifty favors if I remember right."

"You remember right."

Remo leaned on the desk casually. On a table behind it he saw a small cashbox.

"Want to play double or nothing?" Remo asked.

The clerk's eyes narrowed warily. "Actually, no."

Remo reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. He held it away from his body in his right hand. "It'd be easy," he said. He manipulated his fingers, almost as if playing an imaginary piano with a vertical keyboard, and the bill vanished. "Just tell me what hand it's in," he said nodding toward his right fist.

"That's all?" said the clerk, glancing quickly at Remo's left hand, resting on the counter, four feet away from the fifty. "That's all?" he repeated.

"That's all."

"Double or nothing?" said the clerk.

"Double or nothing. What hand's it in?"

"That one," said the clerk with a sheepish smile, pointing to Remo's right hand.

"Look and see," said Remo. He extended his right hand toward the clerk. As he did, his left hand was over the counter, opening the cashbox and flipping through the bills there. With his fingertips, he felt for the twenties and peeled off eight, curled them into a tube, closed the box, and put the $160 into his left pants pocket. Meanwhile, the clerk was trying to pry open Remo's right hand.

"How can I tell if I won?" he asked plaintively.

Remo relaxed his fingers and opened his hand. Curled up in the palm was the fifty-dollar bill.

The clerk grinned and snatched up the bill. "Terrific," he said. "Now you owe me another fifty."

"You're right," said Remo. He dug into his righthand pocket but brought his hand out empty. From his left pocket, he pulled out the tube of twenties.

He unrolled them and counted off three. "I'm out of fifties. Here. You've been such a good guy. Take sixty." He handed the bills to the clerk who set them on top of the fifty and quickly jammed them all into his pocket.

"Thanks, old buddy."

"Anytime," said Remo. He walked away, the hotel's other five twenties in his pocket, offsetting the two fifties of his own he had given away. He whistled as he escorted Maria from the building.

She felt worse when Remo reached his hotel and he quickly put her into bed. Chiun was sitting in the middle of the living room floor when they entered but he did not speak, not even to acknowledge their greetings. When Maria was sleeping, Remo came back outside.

"You're a real charmer when you want to be, Chiun."

"I am not paid to be charming."

"Good thing."

"Remo, how could they do it? How could they do violence to the beautiful daytime dramas? I have sat here this night and asked myself that and I do not know the answer."

"It was probably a mistake, Little Father. Start watching again. You'll see. It was probably just a thing they did once and won't do again."

"You really think so?"

"Sure," said Remo, feeling very unsure.

"We will see," said Chiun. "I will hold you personally responsisble for this."

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. I'm not in charge of the television shows. Blame somebody else."

"Yes. But you are an American. You should know what goes on in the minds of the other meat-eaters. If not you, who?"

Remo sighed. He looked in on Maria who was sleeping deeply then went into the living room to sleep on the couch. Chiun meanwhile had unrolled his sleeping mat in the middle of the floor and, reassured by what he would forever regard as Remo's personal word that the daytime dramas would not again be sullied by violence, had fallen instantly asleep. For five seconds of sleep, he seemed like a normal man, breathing normally; for the next ten seconds he was the Master of Sinanju, breathing deeply and almost silently; and then he turned into a flock of geese.