Of course, Mandobar wasn't the sole author of this plot. With the former East African president away, Defense Minister Deferens seemed to be running the show. Mandobar's trust in his subordinate had to have been absolute, for the two men hadn't been in contact the entire time Mandobar had been in China. Indeed, the bulk of the calls coming back from the presidential mission were from President Kmpali's staff to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and other official government arms. On the surface, there was nothing untoward that could be connected to official East Africa.
It was all just a weak cover. And with his supporters in the international press, Willie Mandobar might just make it stick. After all, he was no longer president. He could not be blamed for the extracurricular activities of current renegade government officials.
Although Smith had initially rejected the idea of sending Remo after Mandobar, he was beginning to question his decision. But Mandobar wasn't there. And for now, there seemed to be one man in charge.
Remo had been seen in public with L. Vas Deferens, but as yet Smith hadn't heard a single account of the incident. Remo was probably right. There would be no risk to security were he to take out the defense minister.
And in a moment of tired decision, in the dark of his Folcroft office, the amber light of his monitor casting skeletal shadows across his gaunt, gray face, Harold Smith decided to send Remo against Deferens after all. With him neutralized, perhaps this insane scheme would collapse.
Decision made, Smith backed out of his computer, shutting off the system. He blinked as the light winked out.
With a gnarled hand, he found his leather briefcase in his desk's footwell. Tired bones creaked as he rose to his feet and crossed to the light switch. His back ached.
Feeling every bit his age, Harold W. Smith quietly left his office.
Chapter 23
The instant he arced below the surface of the filthy water, Remo extended his senses to their maximum. Momentum had already carried him partway downstream. He found Bubu farther ahead. The native's heartbeat was strong. He seemed to be clinging to something jutting from the smooth bottom of the aqueduct.
The water was slick against Remo's skin. Trying not to think about what he was swimming through, he frog-kicked, hard. Eyes screwed tightly shut, he shot through the water with the focus of a laser-guided torpedo.
When his hand grabbed the Luzu native's collar, Bubu began to struggle viciously. The sharpened steel of his machete sliced through the water.
Impatiently, Remo caught the blade, knocking it out of Bubu's hand. It shot to the surface. Remo pulled Bubu away from the twisted metal bar he'd been holding on to. With a kick, he tugged the native up through the weak current.
The Luzu thrashed in his arms only until they broke the surface and he was able to see who it was who had dragged him from the river bottom.
"Master Remo!" Bubu spluttered, blinking greasy water from his eyes.
"Who the hell'd you think it was?" Remo griped as they pulled themselves up the slippery stone wall. He had to help Bubu along. "And you've got a lot of nerve not being dead. Why'd you yell to me like that?"
Kneeling on the platform, Bubu's face beamed innocence. "I was warning you of the man with the gun," he replied. "And I did not know if the men would come in after me. They have killed Luzus before."
"Don't tempt me," Remo grumbled. His body had automatically shut down his pores before he hit the water, but his clothes were a dripping mess.
Bubu climbed to his feet beside Remo. A tear of the fabric at his shoulder showed where the bullet had grazed him. He was looking around the platform.
"Oh, my," Bubu announced all at once.
Remo tracked his gaze to the spot where F. U. Gudgel hung slack from the wall.
Bubu hurried over to the dead East African. When he tried yanking his spear free, it failed to budge. Awed eyes searched for his missing machete. He found it half-buried in the ceiling of the cavern.
"Do you possess skills greater than the Master of Sinanju?" he asked in wonder as Remo came over to him.
"Lesson number one," Remo snarled as he pulled Bubu's spear from the wall. "No one possesses skills greater than the Master of Sinanju." F. U. Gudgel dropped to the mossy floor. "What does this mean, 'lesson number one'?" Bubu asked.
"Nothing." Remo sighed. "Lemme get your steak knife."
Still on bare feet, Remo padded to the edge of the platform. The instant his toes curled over the edge, he launched himself forward.
Spinning in air as he sailed across the river, he hit the far wall with the soles of both feet. Before gravity could take hold, he used his momentum to propel himself up the wall and around the broad arch of the ceiling. He plucked the machete from where it jutted at the apex and continued his sprint down the far side to where Bubu waited on the platform.
When Remo presented him his blade, an amazed smile cracked the young native's dark face. "How is it possible for a man to do such things?" he asked.
"Gimme twenty years and maybe I'll show you one day," Remo replied. "For now, we should see what these guys were doing down here." He nodded to Gudgel's body.
At this, Bubu's expression became abruptly urgent. His amazement at Remo's abilities had made him forget why they were there.
"There were two more," Bubu announced. "We must give chase."
"You give chase if you want to," Remo said, picking up his shoes. "Thanks to your shit swan dive, they're long gone."
Spinning, Remo headed down the tunnel. Bubu trailed behind. The native held his weapons in one hand, rubbing his injured shoulder with the other.
"Don't fool around with that," Remo called without turning. "As it is, you've probably got typhoid fever and about fifty different kinds of V.D."
Remo followed the clumsy footprints Gudgel and the others had made in the moss to the end of the tunnel. Down another short corridor, the prints stopped abruptly.
Remo didn't need to see the nuclear device to know it was there. His body had detected the radiation leaking into the cavern before he and Bubu had even turned into the tunnel. Luckily, it wasn't bad enough yet to damage a body trained in Sinanju. The shiny silver bomb was tucked neatly away in a dank alcove at the tunnel's far end.
As Remo stood in silent contemplation of the hydrogen bomb Deferens's men had planted directly below the heart of Bachsburg, Bubu stole up behind him. The Luzu native stared in wonder at the bomb casing,
"What is it?" he whispered.
To the native, Remo's answer was chillingly calm. "A nuclear bomb," he said, biting the inside of his cheek in concentration.
It was all suddenly clear. Deferens ran the department that controlled East Africa's nuclear arsenal, and had kept the bombs after they were supposedly destroyed. Either on his own or at Mandobar's insistence, the defense minister had planted this bomb at the time when the most criminals would be in East Africa. Mandobar and Deferens intended to kill the very men they'd invited here-the criminals who were even now stirring from their restful night's slumber in fancy hotel suites far above Remo's head.
"Should we not do something?" Bubu whispered fearfully. His Luzu weapons were out before him, as if they would be enough to ward off the most awesomely destructive force human technology had ever harnessed.
Remo nodded slowly. A glimmer sparkled in the depths of his dark eyes. "You're right," he said. "We should do something."
And throwing back his head, Remo laughed out loud.
"Master Remo?" Bubu asked worriedly.
But Remo didn't hear. He had already turned from both bomb and native. Rubbing tears of mirth from his eyes, he marched back down the tunnel. His sinister laughter faded in the distance.