"I am at a building. The first I could find with a working telephone. It is some sort of garrison. And that does not matter. I will have someone from the government come repair my telephone. Tell Remo I will call him when I know more. Will you give him my message?"
Smith was trying to picture the Master of Sinanju in a North Korean army bunker, a group of soldiers cowering in the corner as he used their phone. He pinched his nose with his tired fingers.
"Of course," the CURE director sighed. "But if there is something wrong there, I'm sure-"
He never completed his thought. The line went dead.
For a moment Smith puzzled over what this could mean. He hadn't even had a chance to mention his own problem with the Time of Succession.
Chiun had sounded unlike he had ever sounded before. Like a condemned man waiting for the ax to drop.
Frowning with his entire face, the CURE director gently replaced the receiver.
Chapter 27
"Is it Mr. Remo?" the woman asked. "Is that right?" The woman with the Midwestern twang sounded apologetic for not knowing. Her eyes smiled warmly. She wore a blue skirt with matching jacket and a starched white blouse. A mane of honey-blond hair was pulled into an efficient little ponytail. If this was an attempt on her part to make herself appear dowdy or tomboyish, it didn't work. With those lips and teeth and all the parts north and south, there was no doubt that she was one hundred percent woman.
"Um, yeah," Remo said, clearing his throat. "That's good enough."
The woman sighed great relief. As if this was just the happiest news she had ever received.
"I didn't know for sure," she admitted, the little bit of tension in her voice draining away. Her smile retreated as she allowed herself a little apologetic pout. "I had your description, but you just can't tell sometimes."
The woman scootched into the seat next to Remo and took a clipboard out from under her arm. With a little Bic disposable pen, she made an efficient little mark on a piece of paper. The way she held the pen in her slender fingers made Remo swallow hard. He had never before in his life so wanted to be a cheap disposable pen.
"There," the woman said, her smile returning. She slipped her pen into the top of her clipboard. "I have to apologize for being late. We must just keep missing each other." She tapped her forehead absently. "There I go again. I'm just a scatterbrain these days. Too much on my mind. I'm Rebecca Dalton."
She offered Remo her hand. Remo wasn't sure what to do. He shook it.
"Are you here to kill me?" he asked.
Rebecca laughed. This time it was better than angels singing. Angels would have cast themselves from the eternal bliss of Heaven to hear Rebecca Dalton's laugh.
"Me?" she said, tipping her head with joking thoughtfulness. "Well, we'll just have to see. A girl's got to have some secrets. What would you think of someone who just blurted everything out right up front like that?"
"What say we fly off and get married?" Remo blurted.
"See?" Rebecca said. "It would be awkward." Her smile demonstrated that it was anything but awkward.
"Okay, what say we fly off and have a really dirty weekend?" Remo suggested.
"Maybe later," Rebecca promised, patting his knee.
He thrilled at her touch. Just the thought of maybe latering with Rebecca Dalton was enough to tide him over.
"Aren't there two of you?" she asked. "The Reigning Master should be here, too, shouldn't he?"
She craned her swanlike neck to search the immediate area.
"He's not here," Remo said.
"Oh," she said. "Even better that I found you, then."
"How do you know about us?"
"You know that you're known in certain circles," she replied, her voice suddenly a conspiratorial whisper. "Your circle and my circle are all kind of, you know, encircled. But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" Rebecca became all business. "I represent parties that are interested in-how shall I put it?-meeting you." She offered a sympathetic smile. "I understand you've been having trouble these past few days. I hate to admit that I'm probably partially to blame for that. I was supposed to meet up with you in London, but there was a delay taking off in Paris and by the time I got to London, well, gosh, there you were in Paris and-" she raised delicate hands in a helpless gesture "-you know what it's like."
"I haven't got a clue," Remo said, not really caring that he didn't. He liked hearing Rebecca talk. He could have sold to Hugh Hefner the way her lips formed W's.
"This thing you're doing now," Rebecca said. "This generational thing?" She checked her notes on her clipboard. "Now, my information on the House of Sinanju isn't detailed, but as I understand it this whole process we're involved in right now is a milestone for the man who goes through it. The introductions at court are his way of becoming Master-is that right?" She patted his knee again. "Just a big ol' congratulations to you, by the way."
Remo nodded thanks.
"Well, as the man in the middle of all this, I'm sure you know this has gone on for, well, ever and ever," Rebecca explained. "And in a given generation, it's sometimes been known to go on for years. Governments all over the world have tied up manpower and resources that they'd much prefer to have directed elsewhere. Well, this time there are certain governments that are interested in streamlining the process. Making it run more efficiently so that they can put it quickly behind them. Modern age and all that. I'm sure you'd be happy to get this unpleasantness over with quickly, as well. Unfortunately there was a mix-up. Mix-ups happen all the time, as you know. I told you, Paris. And, well, anyway, here I am." She smiled once more. "Shall we?"
Remo hadn't really been listening. As she yammered, he'd been watching her chest.
"Yes," he replied with utter certainty.
He realized that she wasn't talking about the same thing he was talking about. She was gesturing with her clipboard.
"Oh," Remo said.
Disappointed, he allowed Rebecca to lead him through the terminal. Special passes and strategically flashed smiles opened locked doors and special off-limits corridors. In a matter of minutes they were outside and climbing aboard a fully fueled Gulfstream jet. The plane was taxiing even as they were settling in their seats.
"That's more like it," Rebecca purred contentedly as the jet lifted off, leaving Moscow in a trailing cloud of jet fumes and twinkling lights. She stretched her arms over her head. "Would you like something to eat?"
"Water," Remo said as he watched her stretch. "Undrugged, if you have it."
Her laugh came easily. She called out an order in a language Remo didn't understand. A moment later a woman with ebony skin, high cheekbones and teeth like pearls appeared from the galley carrying a frosted glass of water.
After handing Remo his water, the stewardess and Rebecca Dalton exchanged a few words, after which the flight attendant disappeared back in the galley.
"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" Rebecca asked.
Remo leered over his water glass.
Rebecca waved an admonishing finger as she pulled out her clipboard once more. "I can see I'm going to have to keep my eye on you, mister."
"That's not the body part I'd vote for."
Rebecca pretended she didn't hear. She cast an eye across her clipboard. "Turkey," she announced all at once.
"Still not hungry," Remo said.
"Not the food, the country. We have an appointment-" she checked her watch "-sooner than soon, I'm afraid. If you want to rest before we meet the Turkish prime minister, you have a couple of hours."
Remo didn't know what to make of all this. An hour ago he'd been ready to abandon the whole Time of Succession and head for home. But this beautiful woman who had appeared out of the blue seemed to know what she was doing. And Chiun wasn't exactly here to offer guidance.