"Excuse me, most gracious maiden, but I have a calling of a different nature. However, if ever there should be a woman in our lives, of course it would be the most glorious, gracious, magnificent apparition we see before us now." Thus spoke Chiun to the famous rock star in the muddy streets of the Indian city of Gupta.
"I'll pay more," said Debbie. "I'm reasonable."
"I'm not for sale," said Remo.
"Why not? You know who you're turning down?"
"I didn't say I was turning you down. I said I'm not for sale."
And holding his breath, Remo moved in close to Debbie Pattie.
"You're all right. What's your name?" she asked.
"Remo. "
"What kind of a name's dat?"
"White," said Chiun.
"And yours?"
"I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju."
"I like dat. You run Sinanju, huh?"
"No, I merely serve it, as I serve the world, as Sinanju has served the world throughout the ages."
"Ya see, dat's what I like. Doin' good. I'm into doin' good. Heavy. You know? Heavy into doin' good. You think I ought to give these people a few bars of my latest hit?"
"No. They're in enough trouble already," said Remo.
Debbie shot him a dirty look, but Remo quickly turned the subject to her friend Genaro Rizzuto, a decent man who had come to Gupta like all the other stars to help.
"We want to help too," said Remo. "I'd like to meet him."
Chapter 7
Nathan Palmer spotted the full extent of the disaster first. Rizzuto was on the scene in Gupta. Rizzuto could talk sparrows out of trees and he had brilliantly won over the government with well-placed lavish gifts, lined up the victims, and had one of the greatest negligence cases of all time aimed at one of the richest chemical companies of all time. Everything seemed perfect.
And then the little horrible fact of the paltry value of life in the third world reared its horrifying head, and Palmer was so panicked he canceled a date for the evening and called in Schwartz, who had to pry himself away from his stockbroker.
It was they, not their mechanical genius Dastrow, who had made the horrible mistake. He had done everything right, as always.
Schwartz was so furious when he entered their plush Century Park City offices that he almost broke the glass case protecting the Desk.
"Disaster in Gupta," said Palmer.
"I should hope so. That's what we make money on. We're going to make a fortune."
"That's what we're going to go to the cleaners on," said Palmer.
"You called me away from the one stock-market transaction that can make up for a lifetime of losses to make me listen to your pessimism?"
"Arnold, I probably saved you from bankrupting yourself for the rest of your natural life. What do you think happened in Gupta?"
"We started one of the greatest negligence cases of all time. We signed up an entire city as clients. We've got two thousand, two hundred and twenty deaths of heads of families, at least seven thousand children deprived of their lives, twenty-four hundred mothers whose love and support will be denied entire families, to say nothing of a slew of healthy young able-bodied young men and beautiful young women who will never bear children or enjoy the loves and lives of families," said Schwartz. "And I'm not counting the incalculable grief. Rizzuto is going to have those juries attaching every single asset of International Carborundum . It'll be come-and-get-it day."
Nathan Palmer shook his head sadly.
"There are two kinds of people in the third world. There are the handful who run things. They're very rich. Each of their lives is worth a fortune. But they don't need lawyers because they are the courts. They are the army. They are the government. And they already take a rakeoff from any industry that has a hope of surviving. These people are the money. Then there are the citizens of their countries, the ones these people attend the pricey conferences about."
"Yes," said Schwartz, adjusting his cuff because it had accidentally covered his gold Rolex.
"What do you think the value of a human life is in those countries?"
"You just can't put a price on a human life," said Schwartz angrily. "You've got to establish his earning power. What he means to a family. A corporation. Lots of things go into determining the value of a human life."
"In dollars and cents, Arnold," said Palmer. "What do you think we're talking about per head?"
"That's difficult to figure out. I would estimate . . ."
"Don't even bother. If we could get seven dollars a head out of the thousands who were killed in Gupta, we'd be lucky. Do you know what their government thinks?"
Schwartz was afraid to ask.
"Their government thinks that they want the factory there. The tragedy is of course a tragedy, but there are lots more people in India than there are chemical factories."
"What about Rizzuto whipping up popular resentment? He could make a bishop want to burn down a church. He's wonderful."
"And you're brilliant, Arnold. But the fact remains that angry mobs are all over the third world. They're commonplace. Don't mean a damned thing except to American television. If American televison weren't there, the governments would shoot down the people like so many mad dogs. Why do you think you don't have protests in Syria and Bulgaria? Show me a demonstration in Cuba that isn't in support of the government."
"What are you saying, Nathan?" asked Schwartz. He thought of that horror of horrors for one terrible moment: life without visible wealth, life with people finding out who you really were because there was nothing to throw in their faces before they could ask questions.
"I'm saying we are in hock up to our eyeballs for the money we paid Dastrow. I'm saying I don't know where we're going to go, or what we're going to do to make it."
It was at that moment that Arnold Schwartz in all his expensive clothes and jewelry showed Nathan Palmer why he was such a good partner. They were both overlooking one salient fact. Robert Dastrow to the best of their knowledge had never worked for anyone else. Why? He had only worked for them. Why?
"Because we paid him a friggin' fortune," said Palmer.
"He could have gotten that sort of money elsewhere. But he stayed with us. I say we reach out for him again."
"We have no money for him. He loves money."
"Ah," said Schwartz. "But why does he love it? It's never over till it's over."
"It's over," said Palmer.
"No it's not," said Schwartz, and he dialed the access number to Robert Dastrow. Sometimes Dastrow would answer immediately, and sometimes he would take hours or days. They never knew. But Palmer pointed out that every hour they waited cost them thousands in interest on the loans they had taken out to pay their genius.
Robert Dastrow phoned before evening, and Palmer and Schwartz didn't even know from which continent the call came.
"Robert," said Schwartz. "We've worked together a long time. We've been always forthcoming with your fees. We have a great deal of respect-"
"I don't for free," said Dastrow.
Palmer dropped his head in his hands. Schwartz pressed on. They didn't have much more to lose. They could take out an even larger loan and let him invest it, but he knew that Palmer and Rizzuto lacked his mathematical genius and didn't trust the immutable laws which ultimately would prevail over the insanity of the U. S. stock market. So an even bigger loan was out of the question.
"Robert, we're broke. The Gupta thing didn't work out financially."
"I didn't think it would," said Dastrow.
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because it was absolutely safe, for one. You have to admit that. And for two, I wasn't sure. I was never much of a cost engineer. I gave you exactly what you asked for."
"We're in trouble now."