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With this current spate of disasters, can the United States afford not to replace its rail network? Ask the Japanese, who are anxious to sell its maglev systems. Or the Germans, who have one of their own. Then ask if America, clinging to its historical love of old-style trains, can afford to lose its freight lines, as well as the dying passenger-rail system?

Smith blinked as he absorbed the last paragraph. "Maglev," he whispered.

Clearing his desktop, Smith brought his system up. He typed in the search command, then input, "Magnetic levitation."

Scrolling up came a long string of items. He skimmed them.

In under ten minutes he had absorbed the state of magnetic-levitation technology. It was first developed in the US. in the 1970s, but had been abandoned when a combination of cost and technical difficulties-solved since then-had made it impractical to implement. The Japanese and the Germans virtually controlled the field now, thanks to new advances in superconductor research.

Digging deeper, Smith pulled up the names of the Japanese firms that were in the forefront of maglev development.

He got only one: Nishitsu.

Keying off that, he asked the computer to pull up everything it could find on Nishitsu's maglev progress.

The first item might have hit him between the eyes. He leaned back in his chair.

An AP wire story only two days old, it told of the upcoming Rail Expo '96-to be held in Denver, Colorado-where new train technology from around the world would be on display to the public and industry alike. It was sponsored by an international consortium that included Nishitsu Industrial Electrical Corporation.

Smith frowned. He had heard of air shows where new technology was displayed, but not comparable rail shows.

Initiating a search, he attempted to learn more. There was no more. Then he realized the expo was already taking place. Today was the opening day.

Smith found a contact number and called it.

"Rair Expo '96," a chipper female voice said. It was obviously Japanese.

"Yes. I have just read about your function. Is is possible to fax me additional information?"

"Of course."

"Good." Smith gave her the number, then hung up.

The corner fax machine began beeping and whirring five minutes later. Smith pulled out the sheets as they came out one at a time.

There seemed nothing unusual about the information until the last sheet rolled out.

Smith was trained to pick out individual words or word strings of interest from large blocks of text. It was a speed-reading ability that had served him in good stead down through the years at CURE.

So it was not unusual that the instant his eyes fell on the last page, they jumped on two words that were uppermost in his mind. A name.

Furio Batsuka.

Eyes wide, Smith returned to his desk. He was reading as he fell into his cracked-leather executive chair.

Furio Batsuka, major-league slugger, formerly with the Osaka Blowfish, would be signing autographs all three days.

"My God!" said Harold Smith. "Could it be?"

HAROLD SMITH'S FACE was stark white when he burst into the Folcroft gymnasium.

"I have found the Nishitsu ronin, " he said.

"Where?" said Remo.

"He is signing autographs at the Rail Expo in Denver."

"Oh, that. That's where K.C. was headed."

"Who is K.C.?" asked Smith.

"A sensitive soul," said Chiun.

"A rail nut," said Remo.

Smith said, "According to what I have, Furio Batsuka is his real name. He is a Japanese baseball player who was released from the Osaka Blowfish four years ago. He came to this country and was signed up by a minor-league team. A year ago he joined the Seattle Mariners as a batter."

"Can't be the same Batsuka," said Remo.

"The Osaka Blowfish were sponsored by the Nishitsu company. And Nishitsu owns an interest in the Mariners. Remo, you follow baseball. Why didn't you recognize Batsuka's name?"

Remo grunted. "I haven't paid much attention since the strike."

"Ah-hah," said Chiun. "This explains the inexplicable."

"It does?" said Remo and Smith together.

"Yes. When I first encountered this fiend, he employed a fighting stance I did not recognize as Japanese."

"What stance?"

Chiun demonstrated by laying his katana blade across his shoulder and taking practice swings at an imaginary opponent.

"That's a batting stance, all right," said Remo.

"My God!" said Smith. "It all fits. I last tracked the ronin to Denver. That is where he is now. Signing autographs."

"That still doesn't explain what this is all about."

"I believe I have that answer, as well," said Smith.

They looked at him.

"For years now, the Japanese have wanted to sell the U.S. high-speed bullet and magnetic-levitation trains. But our rail systems are either incompatible or unsuitable for the conversion. It would all have to be replaced. From scratch. They're trying to convince us that our rail system is falling apart."

Chiun hissed, "The philistines! Let them tear up their own rails."

"They have. And now they enjoy bullet trains and maglev systems we can never hope to inaugurate as long as we cling to old steel-wheel technology."

"Well, that explains one thing that's been bothering me," said Remo.

Smith said, "Yes?"

"Now I know why K.C. left Melvis crying in his beer."

Smith looked confused.

"Never mind," said Remo. "Okay, I'll buy it. I guess we head to Denver, huh?"

"Yes," said Harold Smith in a grim, tight voice. "You go to Denver."

Chiun lifted a vengeful fist to the high ceiling. "The fiend will never harm our gracious engines again, O Emperor. Place your trust in us."

"Remo," said Smith.

"Yeah?"

"See that Batsuka is disposed of quietly. And make certain the Nishitsu people understand our deep displeasure with events."

A stricken expression crossed Chiun's wizened face. His beard trembled in shock. "They will be allowed to retain their heads?"

"Be discreet," repeated Smith.

"They get to keep their heads," said Remo. "Sorry."

Chapter 26

The International Rail Exposition for 1996 was destined to be the largest, most ambitious assemblage of railroad rolling stock ever put together in one spot.

An outdoor fairground in the high mountain air of Denver, Colorado, was the site. Trains old and new, ranging from museum pieces to factory-pristine prototypes had been trucked and airlifted in for the event.

Gleaming passenger diesel-electrics stood on static display beside mighty Hudson Locomotives. There were Big Boys and U-Boats and Alcos, Baldwin diesels and Budliners. Narrow-gauge curiosities dwarfed by Challenger 4-6-64s and other titans of the steam age.

Farther in the fenced-off fairground stood the prototypes and the late-model diesels on longer lengths of trackage. They shuttled back and forth, like dumb, throbbing beasts of burden. GM Big Macs. French TGV's. German ICE trains. Swedish X-2000s. Russian diesels and all the latest in bullet trains and magnetic-levitation technology, bright in stealth livery or manufacturer's colors.

Beyond that impressive array, candy-striped fleamarket tents were set up, displaying railroad paraphernalia ranging from massive coffee-table books to videotapes and memorabilia from lines lost to man but still remembered fondly by rail fans-all being snapped up by attendees, who milled about wearing the stunned, beatific expressions normally associated with religious fanatics.

Melvis O. Cupper wore one of those expressions. He was in hog heaven from the moment he paid his twenty-five dollar, one-day admission and walked through the wonderland of Mallets and Big Boys, taking his Stetson off in mute respect to the inert iron gods of steam he loved so dearly.