"Who was the man?" Remo asked.
"Heavyset man. I took his name down. Here it is. George Watkins, sir. From the Justice Department."
"What'd you say?" Remo asked.
"From the Justice Department. He had credentials."
"Thanks," Remo said, driving past the guard booth. It all came together now. George. The Justice Department leak.
"Where are you going?" Chiun asked.
"After George."
"If he beats you up again, do not look to me for help."
"Hmmmppphhhh," Remo grunted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Remo's rented blue Ford caught up with George's rented green Ford two miles from the Army post.
As he drove up close behind George's car, Remo saw Sashur Kaufperson sitting in the front passenger seat swivel her head around continuously, watching Remo as if she were wishing he would somehow vanish.
Remo planted himself right behind George and began to blow his horn.
George turned to look. Remo motioned him to pull over. Sashur, with her left hand, turned George's head forward to look at the road. With her right hand, she gave Remo the finger. Up close, he could see her well. Her mouth was working, sputtering. He could imagine the words pouring out of it.
"Hold tight, Chiun," Remo said, as he swerved left to pull out around George's car on the narrow two-lane road.
"No," said Chiun. "Hold tight is wrong. Loose is the secret to safety. Loose. Free to move in any direction."
"All right, already," said Remo. "Hold loose if you want to."
He was alongside George's car now, riding on the left side of the road. Again he leaned on his horn and began motioning to George to pull to the side of the road.
He saw Sashur Kaufperson's right hand come up slightly to hold the bottom of the steering wheel in George's hands. Then she gave the wheel a strong counter-clockwise twist. George's car swerved sharply to the left, just as Remo feathered the brake with his toe. George's car shot across the road in front of Remo, hit a low steel guard rail, and bounced along the rail for fifty feet before rolling to a stop.
Remo pulled his car in behind George, but before he could even turn off his key, George was out of his car, stomping angrily back toward Remo.
He stopped outside Remo's door.
"All right," he said. "I've warned you for the last time. Get out of there."
"Is there anyone you wish me to notify, Remo?" asked Chiun.
Remo growled and shoved open his door. It hit George square in the midsection and drove him backward over the guard rail. He landed on his shoulders in a small patch of roadside tiger lillies. He got heavily to his feet.
"That's not too smart, buddy," he said. "You'll pay for that."
"George," said Remo. "I want you to know that I think you're an asshole."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Is that right?"
"That's right."
"Who says so?" demanded George.
"You work for the Justice Department, don't you?"
"That's right, and you better not fool around with me, pal."
"And you know where the Justice Department is hiding out its big witnesses, don't you?"
"That's none of your business, buddy," said George heatedly.
"And for a little nookie, you spill it to that leather-lunged bitch in your car…"
"Hold it. Hold it right there," George said. "I don't have to…"
"Yes, you do," said Remo. "I just want you to know why you're going to die." Behind him Remo heard a car's engine racing. "And do you know she's been killing off the government's witnesses?"
George laughed. "Sashur? My Sashur? Killing witnesses? Really, fella. Now that's too much. Sashur is the kindest, sweetest, most gentle…"
"George," said Remo. "You're too stupid to live."
Behind him Remo heard a car pull away. In front of him, George went into a shoulder holster to pull out an automatic.
Between removing the weapon from his holster and getting it into firing position, an unusual thing happened to George. He died as Remo jumped over the guard rail with an elbow thrust that carried George's enlarged stomach organs before it and mashed them against George's backbone.
"And besides," Remo said, looking down at George's corpse, "you annoy me."
"Good, Remo," called Chiun through the open door of the car. "I was afraid he might beat you within an inch of your life."
"Oh, blow it out your ass," mumbled Remo. He looked at George's body, lying like a large mound alongside the road, and realized he couldn't just leave it there. It was certain to be spotted and to draw attention, so Remo lugged the body back, over the guard rail and shoved it into the rear seat of his car.
He got behind the wheel, and Chiun pointed a long-nailed finger at the windshield. "She went thataway," he said.
"Thanks, coequal pardner." Remo found Sashur's car three-quarters of a mile down the road, where the narrow two-lane blacktop road had widened into a four-lane divided highway. The green Ford was parked alongside the highway and was empty.
As he sat in his car behind the other auto, wondering where Sashur had gone, Remo saw a state trooper's squad car go by in the opposite direction.
In the back seat was Sashur Kaufperson. As the squad car passed Remo, she turned and looked out the rear window and gave Remo the finger again. And a victorious smile.
Then, with a whoop of its sirens, the squad car was off down the road at high speed.
After Remo had followed the car to a nearby hospital, into which a smiling Sashur was aided by two state troopers, he called Smith.
He told him that George was the Justice Department contact and that Sashur had been in charge of the kids for the killing operation. He told Smith where she could be found, but Smith ordered him not to bother her in any way.
"Leave her to us, Remo. We should be able to get some information from her that's worth having."
"All right," said Remo. "And take care of George too, will you? He was a shmuck, but he shouldn't be left to rot in the back seat of a car."
"Leave the car in the airport parking lot. We will see to George," Smith said.
Remo hung up, but instead of feeling satisfied over a job neatly wrapped up, he felt disquiet.
He talked to Chiun about it on the plane back to Chicago.
"This is all over, completed, finished," he said.
"If you say so," Chiun said, refusing to interrupt his usual flight routine of staring at the left wing to make sure it was not falling off.
"Then why do I feel rotten about it?" asked Remo.
"It has been a complicated matter, with many ends that are loose," Chiun said.
"That's no answer," Remo said.
"Then you are not ready for an answer. When you are, you will not need me to give it," Chiun said. "I think that wing is loose."
"If it falls off, you can float to earth on a cushion of your own hot air," Remo said sullenly.
"Do not blame me for your ignorance," said Chiun. "There is some learning that must be done alone. No one can teach a bird to fly."
On a scale of one to ten, the consolation that thought brought Remo was a minus three. He was dissatisfied throughout the rest of the plane flight, dejected when he reached Chicago, and disgusted when he and Chiun went to Atlantic City for a rest. Chiun was overjoyed to find that Atlantic City's streets were the inspiration for the game of Monopoly, even though his joy dissipated when he passed the Boardwalk and Baltic Avenue six times in one day and no one gave him two hundred dollars.
Ten days later Remo was still down when he talked to Smith.
"Everything has been taken care of," Smith said. "Our friend George was unfortunately killed in a car accident. However, his widow will collect his Justice Pension."
"What about Sashur?" Remo asked.
"She is now in custody," Smith said.
"What's she being charged with?"