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death. Just as he would order the death of Mark Howard if circumstances deemed
it necessary.
Remo and Chiun felt the heavy burden that weighed on the bony shoulders of
Harold W. Smith. Again Remo felt a pang of sympathy for this taciturn man whom
he did not always like, but whom he always respected.
"Let me know when you need me," Remo said softly.
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Smith said nothing. Swiveling back around in his chair, he offered a crisp
nod.
"Worry not about the health of your heir, Emperor Smith," Chiun said. "A fire
burns in his soul. This have I seen. He will not slip easily into the Void.
Concern yourself more with finding the fiend who has done this to him."
"I have been working on that, Master Chiun," Smith said. He seemed relieved to
discuss something other than his assistant. "Mark narrowed our search for her
lab considerably. I have been attempting to weed through the larger list,
reducing it to the likeliest locations. Still, even if we find it, there is no
guarantee that she will return there now."
Remo had already spent enough time sitting around Folcroft. He suddenly rose
to his feet.
"All right, that's it," he said firmly. "She got away. So what? Everybody's
got to be somewhere. I'll just go back to Maine and beat the bushes until I
flush her out."
The CURE director shook his head. "We cannot know that she is still there," he
said. "She has what she wants. She collected the formula she left behind. It
would make sense for her to get out of the area now that she knows we are on
to her."
"She doesn't have what she wants, Smitty," Remo said. "I'm fine, remember? She
didn't turn me into some sort of Vicious Bearded Gagon in her freak
menagerie."
"I still do not think that was her intention," the CURE director said. "But
what else it might have been, I have no clue. Her scheme was not merely to
infect those who drank her tampered product. If so, she would have used the
newer, permanent version of the formula. The kind she used suggests she only
wanted a temporary army at her disposal. Still, one has to assume that she
ultimately wants to transform all mankind into creatures like herself."
"Patience is not a quality exclusive to humans," Chiun suggested.
"Agreed," Smith said. "So we know her ultimate goal, and we know that she
considers whatever it is she is up to to be a step toward achieving that goal.
She does not mind the attention this will draw to her as long as she succeeds.
I almost wish she simply wanted to make Remo one of her own. It would simplify
things for us. Until we do know what she's truly after, we are all at a great
disadvantage."
He was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. It was the interoffice line.
"Excuse me," Smith said, reaching for the receiver.
Remo was still standing. As Smith answered the phone, he turned to the Master
of Sinanju.
"I don't like just standing here doing nothing," he complained, clenching and
unclenching his hands.
"The creature has fled. Smith's oracles have yet to locate the place where she
created her wicked brews. What do you propose we do?"
"I don't know," Remo said, frustrated.
"Then by all means," Chiun said, "go waste effort and time running around
doing nothing just to make yourself feel like you are doing something. In the
meantime, I will remain here and pray to my ancestors that you are not so
exhausted when you finally do meet her that she does not kill you and feast on
your impatient innards." He patted the rug beside him. "Or you could sit, my
son, and meditate with me."
Reluctantly, Remo realized his teacher was right. He was about to sink back to
the floor when he was stopped by a sharp intake of breath across Smith's desk.
When he looked over, he saw that the grayness had drained from the CURE
director's face, leaving behind a sickly shocked white. The older man's
arthritic knuckles bulged in pearl knots around the receiver.
"I will be right there," Smith choked.
He was on his feet even before he had hung up the phone. Seeing his urgency,
Chiun rose like gentle steam from the floor.
"What's wrong?" Remo asked. He and Chiun fell in behind Smith as the CURE
director raced for the door.
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Smith flung the office door open. "There has been an incident downstairs," he
blurted. When he cast a glance at Remo, his eyes were sick with fear. "Mark [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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