Warren Murphy: Deadly Seeds

He kept strolling casually toward the light at the end of the alley, and then, casually still, without seeming to change stride or direction, he melted into the shadows along the right side of the wall. There, in pitch blackness, he paused. He heard breathing near him. He worked his eyes again, and saw an Oriental man in a full black costume. He had not yet seen Remo, although they were close enough to kiss. Remo reached out his right hand and grabbed the man's thin neck through the linen.

He touched the exact spot with the exact amount of pressure required. The man neither moved nor made a sound. Remo held on and waited. He heard the rustle of footsteps moving down the alley, following the path he had taken. Then all sounds stopped. Their quarry had disappeared. Where had he gone?

And then the small man at the end of Remo's right hand went flying out into the alley and hit the man who had come down from the roof, in the midsection. The second man crumbled with a noisy "ooooof."

Remo was out of the darkness and into the parallelogram of light, silhouetted against the brightness of the street beyond.

The first Ninja man was finished; he would never again skulk down an alley. The second scrambled to his feet, unaccustomed to the bright flash of light that shone in his eyes over Remo's shoulder as Remo moved out of the light.

Remo took him out with an index finger to the right temple, and then decided he should have used a back elbow thrust. He did and was rewarded with a satisfying bone-crushing crunch.

Chiun should have been there to see that, he thought, but then he thought no more as he moved into the shadows on the left where one more was hiding, and he stopped, and cut off his breathing, and he heard the tiny sip of air characteristic of Ninja, as if the man were breathing through a straw, and Remo followed the sound and was on him.

But the man darted away, slipping into the darkness, and across the silence and the blackness the two men faced each other as if it were high noon in Dodge City.

The Ninja waited, as was traditional, for Remo to make a move, a mistake that would open him to the Ninja's counterthrust, but Remo made a move that was no mistake and the back of his left foot was deep into the muscle and gut of the man's stomach.

As the man fell, he gasped: "Who are you?"

"Sinanju, buddy. The real thing," Remo said.

Remo left the bodies behind and walked out onto the sidewalk. He looked upward over his right shoulder, toward the roof, where Anthony Polski dangled by his neck from the flagpole and Remo threw him a snappy military salute.

He paused again and behind him he heard a faint sound… a tiny repetitive clicking… but he sensed it as machinery and not a weapon and he decided to ignore it and go back to his room. Perhaps now, having exercised, he could sleep.

Above the alley, on the roof of another nearby building, Emit Growling quickly packed away his camera loaded with infrared motion picture film and headed home for a long night's work in his darkroom.

Not that he minded. He was being paid a great deal of money to have those films processed by morning. And later when he saw the films, he would realize he might have been witness to something special. Even though he had barely been able to see what was happening while it was happening because of the darkness, the films were sharp, almost seeming brightly lighted, and as he watched the thin white man with the thick wrists move, he was glad that the infinitestimal clicking of his motion picture camera had not given him away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Refreshed and invigorated by the night's exercise he had given his adenoids, Chiun was awake before Remo.

Remo found him sitting in the middle of the floor, right hand pressed up against the right side of his nose, breathing in through one nostril and exhaling through the other.

"You look in?" said Remo. "How's the girl?"

"Dead," said Chiun without interrupting his exercise.

Remo sat up on the couch. "Dead? How?"

"She died in the night. After you went out and left me here all alone, I lay here listening to her breathe and one moment she was there and there was the breath of life and the next moment there was no breath and she was dead."

"Didn't you try to help her?"

"That is unkind," said Chiun, lowering his right hand from his nose. "She was a very nice lady and I tried to help her. But she was beyond help. This is a very bad thing."

"When did you start worrying about bodies?" asked Remo.

He got up and walked past Chiun into the bedroom. Maria Gonzales lay peaceful in death, covers pulled up tightly to her neck.

Remo stood alongside the girl, looking down at her body. Her right hand rested on the pillow next to her head and the blister on the tip of her index finger seemed larger than it had the day before. Remo pulled down the sheet. Maria's body made him shake his head. Yesterday so white and creamy it had seemed like freshly stirred wall paint, it was now covered with red and yellow oozing blisters that seemed to weep like rheumy tired old eyes.

Remo grimaced, then pulled the sheet back up. When he turned away, Chiun stood in the door.

"I've never seen anything like that, Little Father," said Remo.

"It is not chemicals or poison," said Chiun. "It is something else."

"Yeah. But what?"

"I have seen it before," said Chiun. "Many years ago, in Japan. After the big bomb."

Radiation blisters.

In the living room, Remo's first phone call was to Dr. Smith. He told him about Maria's body and told him to make arrangements to have the body collected and an autopsy run upon it.

"Why?" asked Smith. "Isn't it just another of your usual bodies? Necks broken, skulls crushed, dismemberment. I've been reading the paper. People hanging from flagpoles."

"No," said Remo. "I think it's radiation poisoning and I think you better tell the people who collect it to be careful."

He started to hang up, then added, "And unless you want another missile crisis, you'd better find some neat way of disposing of the body and just let Cuba think their spy was lost."

"Thank you for your advice, Remo. Have you ever considered…"

Before Smith could finish the sentence, Remo had depressed the receiver button and was dialing his second call.

No, Mr. Fielding was not in his office. He was out inspecting the four Wondergrain sites around America. Of course, the secretary remembered Remo. She was angry with him for not coming to her apartment as he had promised, but not so angry that she would withdraw the invitation forever. Yes, she understood about business. Some time soon. Yes. And oh yes, Mr. Fielding went to the Mojave site first. He had left only this morning. Now about Remo's brown eyes...

Remo hung up, satisfaction jousting with dissatisfaction. He was satisfied that Fielding was still alive. Whoever had been behind last night's attacks on Remo had not reached Fielding yet. But Remo was dissatisfied with Fielding's security. That dizzo secretary had been quick enough to tell Remo where Fielding was. She might tell anybody just as quickly.

Because they were now coequal partners, Rerno asked Chiun if he wanted to accompany Remo to the Mojave.

"No," said Chiun. "You go."

"Why?"

"If you have seen one desert, you have seen them all. I have seen the Sahara. What do I need with your Mojave? Besides, I am going to take your advice and watch my beautiful stories today. I believe your promise that there will be no more violence to mar them."

"Hold on, Little Father, it's not my promise."

"Do not try to go back on your word now. I remember what you said, as if it were just a moment ago. You personally guaranteed that there would be no more violence. I am holding you to that promise."

Remo sighed softly. What it meant was that Chiun had weakened and was going back to his television shows and nothing Remo could say or do would stop him. But if the shows went badly, Chiun wanted someone to blame.