"It smells like rotting garbage," another reporter said. "Tell us about it. Hey, move that over a quarter of an inch. There." The workman picked up a walkie-talkie from atop the package and spoke into it. "How's that?" He looked upward as a helicopter swirled into view over the parking lot. A voice answered back through the helicopter loud enough to be heard by the reporters.
"Looks perfect. Now lock it down."
The workman set about taping the bow in place with transparent package tape.
"Damn Lavallette and his goddamn perfectionism," one of the workers grumbled.
"What do you expect from a maverick auto genius?" a reporter asked.
"Not packages that smell," the workman said.
"Just cars that stink," another workman said. Watching from an upstairs window of the Dynacar plant was Lyle Lavallette. He felt good because he knew he looked good. A new girdle, developed in Europe for pregnant women, had trimmed another half-inch off his waistline.
His personal beauty consultant, who was on the Dynacar payroll as a design coordinator, had just given him a skin-tightening-cream facial and had also cleverly found a way to cement the loose hair that had bothered Lavallette three days earlier to another hair, to guarantee that it could no longer pop up and embarrass him in front of the photographers.
"Good, good, good, good, good," he said. "The press is almost all here. No sign of Revell and Millis?" he asked Miss Blaze.
His secretary was wearing a heart-stopping tight sweater in fuchsia. She had been wearing a red sweater, but Lavallette had made her change it because he was wearing an orange tie and he thought the colors might clash. Changing at the office was no problem, however, since Lavallette had insisted that she keep a dozen different sweaters in her desk, to help entertain reporters who might come to see them.
"Mr. Revell and Mr. Millis haven't arrived yet," she said. "But I called their offices and they're on their way."
"Good. I was worried that they might cancel just because Mangan got killed last night."
"No. They're coming," Miss Blaze said.
"Okay. I want you to wait for them downstairs," Lavallette said. "And when they come, you greet them and then take them to their seats on the dais."
"Okay. Any special seats, Mr. Lavallette?"
"Yes. Seat them on the left," he said.
"Is there a reason for that?" she asked.
"Best reason of all," Lavallette said. He smiled at his secretary. "It's downwind," he said.
"Nice place you bring me to," Remo said.
"Nobody invited you to accompany me here," Chiun said.
"It smells like the town dump."
"That is because there are many white people here," Chiun said. "I have noticed that about your kind."
"Why are we at a car company anyway? Dynacar Industries. I never heard of it."
"I am here because it is my duty," Chiun said. "You are here because you are a pest."
They were stopped at the parking-lot gate of Dynacar Industries by a uniformed guard who handed them a printed list of invited guests and asked them to check off their names.
Chiun looked up and down the list, then made an X next to a name, handed it back to the guard, and walked through the open gate.
The guard looked at the clipboard of names, then at Chiun, then back at the list.
He glanced up at Remo. "He sure doesn't look like Dan Rather," he said.
"Makeup," Remo said. "He doesn't have his TV makeup on. "
The guard nodded and handed Remo the clipboard. Remo looked up and down the list and at the bottom, he saw neatly typed his own name: REMO WILLIAMS.
There was already a check mark next to it. "Somebody already checked off my name," he said. "Yeah? Let's see. Where's that?"
"Remo Williams. That's me. See? It's got an X next to it. "
The guard shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? You know, everybody who comes in here is supposed to check off his name. Now I can't let you in without you make a check mark on the list. That's the way it works and we've got to do it that way. "
"Sure," Remo said. "I understand."
He took the clipboard back and made an X next to a name and walked through the gate.
The guard read the list and called after him, "Nice to see you, Miss Walters. I watch your shows all the time." Remo caught up with Chiun as the small Oriental moved through the pack of newsmen, which had now grown to more than fifty. Chiun marched through like a general, smacking aside with an imperious hand loosely held cameras which threatened to injure his person. Cameramen started to yell at him, then stopped and ooohed a large sigh as Miss Blaze stepped out on the dais, leading James Revell, head of General Autos, and Hubert Millis, president of American Automobiles, to seats at the end of the dais.
"Look at the tits on that," one cameraman said in an awestruck voice.
"Got to admit," another one said. "Lavallette knows how to travel."
"I hope he's doing a lot of traveling up and down on that one," someone else said.
Chiun stopped near the front of the dais and shook his head.
"I never understand the fascination of your kind with milk glands," he told Remo.
"You didn't hear me say anything, did you?" Remo asked.
He looked up and saw the two men who had just sat down take our handkerchiefs and hold them in front of their faces. The stench at this spot was overpowering and Remo said, "Couldn't we find a less potent place to stand?"
"Here," Chiun said. "Slow your breathing. That will help you. And your talking. That will help me."
Remo nodded. He leaned toward Chiun. "A funny thing just happened," he said.
"I'm sure you'll tell me about it," Chiun said.
"I have never seen you so grouchy," Remo said. "Anyway, they had my name here on the guest list. Did you tell anybody I was coming?"
"No," Chiun said.
He turned to look at Remo, who said, "And somebody put an X to my name." He thought it might cheer Chiun up if he played straight man and tossed him a line that could lead to a high-quality insult, so he said, "Do you think there are two just like me in the world?"
He was surprised when Chiun did not respond in the expected way. "You saw a check mark next to your name?" he said.
Remo nodded.
"Remo, I ask you again to leave this place," said Chiun.
"No."
"As you will. But whatever happens, I do not want you to interfere. Do you understand?"
"I understand and you can count on it. I'll sit on my hands, no matter what happens," Remo said. Chiun seemed not to be listening. His eyes were scanning the crowd, and then there was a smattering of applause that brought all eyes up to the podium with its Medusa's head of microphones. Lyle Lavallette, wearing a blue blazer with the new Dynacar Industries emblem on the pocket, waved to the press and stepped toward the microphones.
"Who's that?" Remo said, as much to himself as to Chiun.
"That's Lyle Lavallette, the Maverick Genius of the Auto Industry," said a reporter next to Remo. "What are you here for if you don't know anything?"
"Basically to rip your throat out if you say another word to me," Remo said, and when his eyes locked with the reporter's the newsman gulped and turned away.
Lavallette fixed a big smile on his face and slowly turned for 180 points of the compass to make sure that every photographer had a chance to get a full-face shot of him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I want to thank you for coming today. I apologize for the slight delay in scheduling but I was busy in a hospital being treated for gunshot wounds." He smiled again to let them know he was fully recovered and that it would take more than mere bullets to stop Lyle Lavallette. He wished now that he had joked with doctors at the hospital; that would have been good stuff for People magazine.
"And I also want to thank Mr. James Revell, the head of General Autos, and Mr. Hubert Millis, president of American Automobiles, for coming here today also. Their presence underscores the important fact that we are not here today to unveil or launch a commercial enterprise but to announce a world-shaking scientific discovery." He looked around at the reporters again before continuing.