"Why?" Remo asked. "Anna worked with us before. Why can't we just go back to where we left off?"
"Because things have changed drastically in the intervening years," Smith explained. "There is no Soviet Union. We were arm's length allies while our countries were both superpowers. Our pact at that time benefited both nations. With Russia in its current state, however, Anna Chutesov simply is not needed any longer."
"Don't be so sure on any of that, Smitty," Remo said. "If this Zhirinsky guy gets his way, the old-line Commies might be back singing 'Hail Freedonia' while splashing around naked in the celebratory vodka fountain."
Smith was loath to leave the topic of Anna Chutesov, but for the moment they were at an impasse. And Remo was right. Right now Vladimir Zhirinsky was the more immediate threat.
"I will issue orders to the Moscow police to pick up Zhirinsky," Smith sighed.
"You might want to hold off on that," Remo suggested. "Anna seemed pretty sure that a lot of people might throw in with him, including law enforcement. She was afraid to even have the SUV come in on this."
"SVR," Smith said. "They are successor to the KGB."
"Whatever they are, they can't be trusted," Remo said. "You better let me and Chiun take care of him. Except we can't go right now because we've got a bunch of Sinanju thieves and their Master to track down up here, and maybe a moldy old Sinanju prophecy to deal with in the bargain."
"Huh," Smith mused. "It was the SVR that I had ordered to watch Zhirinsky. Ms. Chutesov is probably correct about their divided loyalties. I will pull them off."
Even as he spoke, he reached for his desk. An alphanumeric keyboard appeared as if by magic beneath his summoning fingers. Typing swiftly, he began issuing the surreptitious orders that would suspend the surveillance orders on Vladimir Zhirinsky.
"See, Smitty?" Remo said as the CURE director worked. "She's coming in handy already."
Smith allowed the remark to pass.
"We cannot allow a lunatic like Zhirinsky to excite militaristic passions in the Russian people," the CURE director said as he typed. "The former Red Army is a shambles. For defense, Russia is relying almost exclusively on its nuclear arsenal. Even a small force operating on American soil could cause a destabilizing chain reaction with cataclysmic effects."
"Not a problem," Remo replied. "The first ten weren't anything special. Some glorified karate moves and camo suits to help them hide. We'll pull the plug on however many are left and then take a spin back to Russia for Zhirinsky."
Smith was only half listening. Peering down at his angled desk monitor, his gray face had grown troubled.
"That might prove difficult," he said. "Zhirinsky has apparently disappeared." Eyes of flint-gray scanned the translated report he had accessed from the SVR's Moscow mainframes. "It would seem he became aware of SVR interest in him and fled. His whereabouts are currently unknown."
"Sounds like they tipped him off," Remo said.
In the silence of his office, Smith nodded. "So it would seem," the CURE director agreed. Determination clenched his jaw. "We will attempt to find him from here. Mark has discovered the alias he used to travel to San Francisco earlier in the week. Perhaps he will use the same name again. In any event you and Chiun have work to do."
"Smitty?" Remo said as the older man was hanging up.
Smith returned the phone to his ear. "What?"
"You didn't know Anna was still alive," Remo began. "You didn't even know we bumped into her in Barkley, right?"
"That's true," Smith conceded.
"So what made you even think it after all this time?"
Smith placed a cautious, flat palm to the surface of his desk. "While conducting research into Vladimir Zhirinsky, Mark accessed some of our old Russia-related files. He found Anna's name among the data."
"So what?" Remo asked. "That still doesn't mean anything. She should have just been a name on a page to him. How did he know she wasn't really dead?"
The CURE director grew uneasy. He was grateful Remo was thousands of miles away and unable to see the disturbed expression that had taken root on his patrician face.
"Upon reading the details of her death, Mark had a hunch," Smith explained. He quickly added, "Now please excuse me. We both have work to do." Before Remo could pry any more, the CURE director hung up the phone.
A shadow of concern formed a brief knot in the old man's brow. Feeling sudden empathy for the lifelong efforts Mark Howard had gone through to hide his gift from the world, Harold Smith turned slowly to his computer, a thoughtful expression on his lean face.
Chapter 21
The Master of Sinanju posed imperiously on the airport tarmac. Beside him, Anna Chutesov watched the fuel line that was feeding the Kamov's hungry tanks.
No one seemed interested in the odd-looking helicopter, which was licensed to a private geological surveying company.
Chiun had been careful not to make his suspicions about Anna known to Remo, lest some misguided sense of chivalry cause him to come to the defense of his former concubine. When Remo left to phone Smith, the old man waited until he was well out of earshot before turning his attention to Anna.
"You know more than you are admitting," Chiun announced bluntly. His eyes beneath the brim of his hat were accusing.
Anna was studying the helicopter refueling. "Why am I not surprised that you would be suspicious of me?"
"Because you are not stupid," Chiun replied. "And it is in your nature to lie when it suits you. Just as it is in my son's nature to be too trusting. Especially when it comes to you. You blind him to your deceptions."
The smile that brushed Anna Chutesov's pale cheeks was sad. "You invest too much power in me," she said softly. "The time when that might have been true was long ago."
Years before Anna Chutesov had been able to manipulate the many men who worshiped her. But by rejecting her, Remo had changed all that. Blue eyes grew wistful at the memory.
"It is not your wiles, but Remo's sentimentality that is the problem," Chiun insisted. "He sees you for what he thinks you were. If only he could see you for but a moment through my eyes." His face remained impassive. "He would blame me if any harm were to befall you by my hand, so I cannot force the truth from you. Therefore you may keep your silly secret, on one condition. Tell me if Remo is at risk."
Anna considered for a long moment. At last she relented, her shoulders sinking almost imperceptibly. "The only immediate risk to either of you is that which I have already told you," she admitted quietly.
Chiun could see she was telling the truth. Accepting her words with a nod of his bald head, he turned back to face the helicopter. Wind whipped the skirts of his kimono.
Anna was relieved when he pried no further. Eyes of ice turned from the Master of Sinanju, facing once more the Kamov.
"You have both changed since last I knew you," she said softly. As she spoke, she still did not turn to the old man.
Chiun took a few seconds to reply.
"Remo is no longer the child he once was," the tiny Asian admitted. "He has achieved the level of full Master."
"Ah," Anna said, nodding. "That is why you cede authority to him. How long ago did he succeed you as Reigning Master?"
Chiun's jaw clenched. His sliver of beard whipped wildly in the wind. "He has not yet assumed the mantle of Reigning Master," he admitted tightly.
Anna glanced, curious, at the old Korean. "I do not wish to offend, but should he not have done so by now? After all, at your age..." She let her voice trail off.
But Chiun was through answering her questions. "These are private matters, not to be discussed with outsiders," he said stiffly. "Remo's former concubine or not, if you wish to keep your tongue, I would advise you to keep your theories of Sinanju succession to yourself."
He offered the Russian agent his frail back. The old man stared out across the airport, a figure of ancient wisdom lost in deep thought. The darkness of the long and lingering Alaska winter night weighed heavy on his bony shoulders.