"Let's go," he said. "We're wasting our time. No one's holding Smith prisoner at this clambake."
"Are you sure?" the old Oriental asked. He raised his arm slowly to point at a figure seated near some craggy rocks a hundred feet away.
Remo walked closer. The figure was a middle-aged gray-haired man. He was dressed in fuscia-colored Bermuda shorts and a loose shirt printed with palm trees. A blue ribbon flapped on his collar. On his head was an electric-blue sun visor decorated with a portrait of Pierre LeToque, the underground symbol of marijuana. One hand held a champagne glass filled with frothy pink liquid; the other grasped a large sheet of green and white computer printout paper. Beside him a portable radio blasted reggae music at an ear-shattering level.
"Naah," Remo said. "It couldn't be him. You don't think it could be, do you?"
Chiun nodded serenely.
"Smitty?" he called, approaching the dapper figure.
"Ah lak a woman," the man sang, tapping his foot to the music.
"What the hell have they done to him?"
Smith downed the pink cocktail with a satisfying belch. He snatched a pencil from behind his ear and began scribbling furiously on the printout spread on his lap.
"Clearly the emperor has lost his mind," Chiun whispered.
"Clearly the emperor is shitfaced drunk," Remo said irritably, grabbing the glass out of Smith's hand. "What do you think you're doing?" he yelled. "We've been halfway around the world looking for you. You're supposed to be in some kind of terrible trouble. And here you are—"
"I've got it!" Smith exclaimed ecstatically. He seemed to notice the two figures at his side for the first time. "Why, Remo," he said, smiling so that all his teeth showed. "Hello, Chiun. What brings you here? Lovely weather." He went back to his scribbling.
"You bring us here," Remo said, wondering if he had ever before seen Smith smile. "You disappeared off the face of the earth a while back, remember?"
"I what? Well, I suppose so. It doesn't make any difference, anyway. Would you two care for a cocktail?"
"No, thanks," Remo said.
"Good heavens, this is really it," Smith said softly, circling a section of the printout. "It stands up to all the proofs."
"All what proofs? What are you doing?"
"I've just found a way to program into the IRS computers," he said excitedly, vibrating the sheet on his lap. "It's unbelievably simple, really. All we have to do is transmit data from a remote computer as far away as half a mile from the main terminal, and then tap into the machines through ultra-short-wave codes in the underground telephone circuits. A child could have figured it out."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Remo said.
"He meant a bright child," Chiun explained.
Smith tapped his pencil on his visor reflectively. "You know, we could do this in half the time using the Folcroft Four. Don't you agree?" He looked up at Remo eagerly. He giggled. "So long, IRS. So long, U.S. budget. Hello, sunshine."
"What? Use the Folcroft computers to rip off the IRS? Have you lost your mind?"
"I told you that in the beginning," Chiun said in Korean.
"Au contraire, " Smith said debonairly. "I've found my mind. At long last, I've discovered the reason for being. This is all for the good of mankind, don't you see?" He waved the printout gaily. "We mustn't stand in the way of mankind, after all. Abraxas wouldn't like it."
"Abraxas? You, too?"
"I wonder if the British tax banks are as easy to crack as ours. Hmmm." He absorbed himself in drawing a series of intersecting lines on the printout.
"We've got to get him out of here."
"The boat is that way," Chiun said, gesturing toward the left. "I suggest we take the sea route."
"I suppose so," Remo said, lifting Smith. "They won't look for him in the water...."
"Let me down!" Smith shouted. "What's the idea of breaking in here where you haven't been invited, and then... Help! Help!"
Chiun raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, Smitty," Remo said as he pressed two fingers into the back of Smith's neck. The gray-haired man slumped silently into Remo's arms.
"What do you think got into him?" Remo asked as he laid the inert figure of Smith on a bunk in one of the yacht's luxurious cabins. "Did you catch the business about Abraxas?"
"A vile trick. I shall destroy the shrine. Worse, I will give it back to the library."
"I'll settle for destroying the people who did this to Smitty," Remo said.
"Well...."
"Well, what?"
"Don't act too hastily. He was rather pleasant,"
Chiun said wistfully.
"Oh, never mind. You stay with him. I'm going back to South Shore."
"But why? We have the emperor."
"We have Smith's body," Remo said, indicating the unconscious man on the bunk. "The girl told me he might as well be dead. We don't know what's going to happen to him. Or to any of us, for that matter. That Abraxas stuff on the television has me spooked."
"It's very strange," Chiun said. "If I saw it in New York City, and you saw it here, and someone in Ohio saw it also..."
"Right. A lot of people are seeing it. Including Smith, who suddenly decided to pirate the IRS computer banks. God only knows what else is going on inside that mansion on the beach."
"I agree," Chiun said. "I will stay here with the emperor. What will you do?"
"I've got a date," Remo said.
Mother Merle's was packed to bursting with islanders, their faces glistening with sweat as they danced to the lazy, hypnotic steel drum music of the band. In the corner, her face lit by the flickering light of a candle, sat Circe, the only white face in the crowd. She was smoking. The glowing red tip of her cigarette trembled in the darkness.
"Alone?" Remo said. "I'm surprised. When's the ambush?"
She took his hand. Her face, he saw, was lined with worry. "You've got to help me," she whispered.
"Oh, I think you've got enough help."
"I don't understand—"
"Come on. You're part of that group of kidnappers on the beach. Even the islanders know about you. And someone saw you running to your boss as soon as you left me back there in the garden. So suppose you cut the crap and try to do what you're going to do with me."
She stared at him with big, luminous eyes that welled with tears. "Abraxas is planning to kill you," she said. "He can do it. He's killed before."
"Peabody?"
"He arranged that. Others, too."
"I wish someone would tell me who this Abraxas is. It would make things a lot easier."
"He's my employer."
Remo smiled. "That little squirt?"
"No. That's LePat. Abraxas sent him to spy on me. He caught me talking to you. I told him I had set a trap for you so that his men could kill you."
"Did you?"
She lit another cigarette from the one still burning and inhaled deeply. "Yes," she said.
"True to form."
"But I didn't go through with it," she said quickly. "I gave him the name of another place on the other side of the island. His men are checking there now. They'll come here eventually. I thought you'd help me get away from him, but..." She buried her face in her hands.
"Hey, c'mon," Remo said, placing his hand over hers. "It can't be that bad."
"How could you ever trust me, after the way I've treated you?"
"Who said I trusted you?" Remo said. "What happens if whoever's gunning for me finds you?"
"I'll be killed. Whether they find you or not, Abraxas will destroy me now. I've lied to him."
"This Abraxas sounds like one terrific guy."
"He's insane," she said quietly. "I realized that today." A sob started deep in her chest and bubbled out of her. "How could things have gone this far?" she shrilled. "I never thought— I'm afraid. I'm so afraid."
"Let's get out of here," Remo said, pulling her to her feet. "We'll go someplace where you can tell me about this setup from the beginning."