“Why would you pin it on Fastbinder?”
“He had an earth-drilling device,” Smith said with a shrug. “The murders were in some of the deepest places man has penetrated the earth’s crust, and nobody knows how the perpetrators got down there. Maybe the earth drill is how. We just don’t know.”
“So you think Fastbinder’s drill wasn’t really broken and he burrowed away into the earth and, by the way, went down into this deep mine shaft for a little kidnapping?”
“No, I do not think that, but I think it is just as likely as the eminent danger from Senator Whiteslaw. Both perpetrators are linked to you. I don’t believe it, but you should.”
Remo blinked. “So, if I have this straight, you’re playing mind games with me and you’re trying to explain just how you’re playing mind games with me.”
Smith nodded. “Exactly.”
“But the Fastbinder threat is real?”
“Just as real as the Whiteslaw threat.”
Remo looked at Chiun. “Little Father, is my chain being yanked?”
“Quite adeptly.”
“So why don’t I have any idea what’s going on?”
Chiun said with a shrug, “What is going on is that we are going to Kansas.”
Chapter 9
“I was had,” Remo announced as he steered the Hyundai through endless cornfields.
“Yes,” Chiun replied.
“Thanks for being supportive.”
“You deserved no less than a comeuppance, Remo Williams. Your behavior insults the Emperor and shames the Masters who came before you.”
“And then there’s you.”
“Yes. There is me.”
“You’re acting like the Reigning Master of Weirdness Emeritus.”
“Call me names if it eases your guilty conscience.” Chiun’s eyes were riveted to the screen of his plastic white gizmo.
“Look at all that com,” Remo said eventually. “Makes my mouth water.”
“You are trying to make me pay attention to you and succor you with pity.”
“I just have a hankering for nibblets.”
“Slaver in silence. I am trying to read.”
Sometime later, Remo said, “You know, at first I thought the Eye Booger was a good idea.”
“It is an iBlogger, dimwit.”
“Whatever. I thought it’d be better than those horrible, awful soap operas. At least you’re not getting square-eyed from watching the tube. And at least it’s real and not a bunch of fake tears and fake boobs and fake hair. But then I did a little investigating into this blog thing.”
“Really?” Chiun asked. “What did you learn?”
“Well, I had Junior tell me more about it, you know, show me some of the blogs on the computer. I was a surprised at how many there are. Junior said he found something like ten million.”
“Yes, there are many. It is a great step for mankind to be able to share its joy and sorrows in this way.”
“Yeah, well, Junior pulled up some of those blogs for me, and joy and sorrow weren’t what I saw. More like kink and sleaze.”
Chiun nodded. “Yes, if the Internet has proved one fact irrefutably it is the base nature of mankind. With each technological achievement the human animal says, ‘How may I use this innovation to further my mating adventures?’ But this is only a part of the story.”
“That’s the only part of the story I saw,” Remo said. “You did not look hard enough. Once you learn to filter through the monotonous and pornographic blogs, you find blogs of great variety. Some are touching and some are intriguing. Just now I am reading the entries of an extended family in Brooklyn, in New York. Six of the children and grandchildren in the family are entering their journals, each with his own perspective on the challenges the family faces. It is fascinating. Listen to an entry from the son, who is a college freshmen.”
Chinn held up the device and touched something on the front, and the iBlogger began speaking in a deep digital monotone. “Today Dad went to the Turnpike Suites again but get this—met a totally different babe. I had Buck with me and we passkeyed into the room next door and got great video through a hole in the wall.”
The voice changed to a breathless young woman. “All my men shop O-Buy, the on-line auction house. You can buy anything on O-Buy—and I mean anything.”
The robotic male voice came back. “So me and Buck found the best five-minute clip for your viewing pleasure.”
“Hold on a second,” Remo interrupted. ‘This kid videotaped his dad having an affair? It’s kinda sick, isn’t it? Isn’t this the same kinda crapola you complained about on the soap operas?”
Chiun gave him a pitying look. “If it is real, it is not sleaze. Try to see this for what it truly is, Remo—a son attempting to come to terms with his father’s frequent infidelities by sharing his feelings in his public journal. Others in his family also post their journals. Although they may feel uncomfortable sharing their anger through conversation, they can do so through a sincere, heartfelt blog.”
“So the dad doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Of course not”
“And the mother?”
“She has her own problems, including compulsive thievery. Would you care to observe an electronic film clip of her shoplifting veal?”
“So they spy on her, too, huh? But does anybody bother telling her about her husband? Or vice versa?”
“That would be unnatural,” Chiun explained sincerely. “Better to let the relationship take its natural course and let her find out in her own way.”
“But when they find out, then the blog is over, right? I mean, the dad’s probably going to be a little more careful, huh? And what’s with the commercial? The bloggers get a cut, right?”
“I believe I see the direction in which you head, Remo Williams.”
“They’re making a profit by exploitation of their family problems. What a bunch of sickos.”
“Stop the car, please,” Chiun said.
“Why? This isn’t the mine.”
“Over there.” Chiun nodded at the high fences. Beyond it they could see a junkyard with the peaks of mechanical corpse piles visible over the top. Next door, gleaming in the sun, were five rebuilt recreational vehicles from decades past.
“Can’t stop,” Remo said. “No time. Don’t want to be late. Wouldn’t be professional.”
Chiun said, “There,” and indicated the spot on the roadside where Remo should stop the car. Remo pulled over reluctantly.
“Chiun, I don’t want…”
Chiun was gone.
Chapter 10
Breck Kasle took one look at you and he knew if you were a buyer, a browser or a sucker. Buyers got his attention. Browsers were ignored. Suckers got the hardsell, because sometimes a sucker could become a buyer, if you worked him right.
Charlie the finance guy pointed out the window of the office RY and asked, “What is he?”
“Damned if I know,” Breck Kasle said.
“Come on! Admitting defeat and he just walked onto your lot? I say he’s a sucker.”
“Maybe. When in doubt you treat ’em like suckers.” Breck tightened his polyester garage-sale tie and went to greet the new arrival.
The little Jap in the girls’ clothes was evaluating the lines on the 1961 Airstream. He was older than Methuselah but damned if he didn’t have the straightest backbone this side of the Mighty Miss.
“Morning.”
The old man didn’t notice him. Probably deaf. “Morning,” Breck said to the younger man, in an ivory T-shirt and Chinos. He was another unsettling character, what with extrathick wrists and eyes like one of those biker dudes who’d kill you just ’cause he didn’t approve of your hair plugs.
Still, the younger man had a tolerant, resigned look, and Breck got the picture. Young man taking care of an old man who’s prone to impulsive acts, and the best thing was to just go along with it These two were browsers.