"Audion?"
"An old-style vacuum tube critical to early TV reception."
"So? KNNN is cable."
"You might recall that in his more flamboyant days, KNNN president Jed Burner was known by the sobriquet of Captain Audacious."
"Audacious. Audion. Hmmm. Isn't that kind of obvious?"
"Only if the fax source is known to the people Captain Audion is attempting to extort. It was a blind fax. He cannot know I have determined its origin."
"How do you know these things, Smith?"
"Sorry. Privileged."
"The last guy told me you were like that. All right," the President said tightly, "what do you suggest?"
"The national economy, never mind public peace of mind, cannot afford a seven-hour blackout. I am putting my people in the field."
The President's swallow was audible. His raspy voice became tinged with reluctance. "If you think this warrants it."
"I do."
"Well, I guess there's nothing more to say, is there?"
"No, Mr. President. I just wanted you to know."
Harold Smith returned the red receiver to its cradle and lifted the blue contact phone handset, reflecting that it was always difficult breaking in a new chief executive. Now more than ever it was fortunate that CURE stood prepared.
There were a great many questions that remained to be answered, but one thing was certain. After tonight, the threat of a television blackout would be nullified.
The Destroyer would see to that.
Chapter 9
The first problem Remo encountered was getting out of the Atlanta airport.
Remo had been in airports all over the world, ranging from tiny cubicles in distant deserts to urban mazes. But this place was Byzantine. There was more space in the complex than out on the runways. Most of it seemed designed to impress other airport architects.
Remo got lost twice before someone directed him to the automated buses.
He got on the first one that arrived, and it began talking to him in a silly-ass 1950s robot voice.
"Welcome to Atlanta. Welcome to Atlanta. This is Terminal A. The next stop is . . ."
"Shut up," Remo snapped.
". . . Terminal B. If you would like me to stop at Terminal B, press . . ."
"Shut up!"
"Welcome to Atlanta. The next stop . "
There was no one else on the bus, so Remo gave the wall a kick.
"iiiisssss . . . squawwk . . ."
Immediately, he felt better. But not by much.
Once outside, Remo hailed a cab. The dogwood-scented city air was sultry entering his lungs. It was still too full of hydrocarbons and metallic traces for his taste, but it least it was a change. Remo wasn't so sure he liked living in New England. The climate and foliage reminded him of North Korea.
"Where to, friend?" the cab driver asked in a mellow Southern drawl.
"Peachtree," said Remo.
"Which Peachtree?"
Remo frowned. The call from Harold Smith had told him to go to the KNNN headquarters on Peachtree. That was all. It seemed enough.
"There's more than one?" he asked.
"More than one? There's dozens. Take your pick." The cabby began ticking off items on his thick fingers. "Peachtree Lane, Peachtree Road, Peachtree Street, Peachtree Circle and then you got your Peachtree Avenue-"
Remo brightened. "Avenue! That's it, Avenue."
"Good. Now is that Peachtree Avenue East, or Peachtree Avenue West?"
Remo's face fell. "Happen to know where the KNNN building is?"
"Which one?"
"The one on Peachtree," Remo said.
"There's two on Peachtree. They call them KNNN South and KNNN Not South."
"Not South?"
"You hang a North on a business down in these parts, you might as well torch it the next day."
"Take me to the nearest one," Remo sighed, settling back into the cushions. He was starting to feel glad the Master of Sinanju had decided to stay behind.
After receiving the word to move on KNNN from Harold Smith, Remo had reluctantly awakened Chiun. He would have preferred not to. But he knew that he would catch hell either way.
The first words out of the Master of Sinanju's excited mouth were, "It is happening? Is the baby coming! Tell me!"
"No, that's not it," Remo said hastily.
The Master of Sinanju had stopped in the middle of a frantic lunge for his traveling kimono, which lay neatly folded at the foot of his sleeping mat. "What? Then why do you awaken me?"
"Smitty wants us on this TV blackout thing," Remo had explained. "He thinks Jed Burner is behind it."
Chiun's haughty chin came up. "I do not know that name."
"You're one of the lucky ones. They used to call him the South's Loudmouth. He runs KNNN. That's where I'm headed. Now let's go."
To Remo's surprise, Chiun had tucked his hands into the sleeves of his sleeping kimono.
"I cannot go," he said stiffly. "If harm come to both of us, there will no one to take care of the boy."
"What's wrong with the freaking mother?" Remo had shouted.
"The boy needs a father," Chiun had said in a thin, remote voice.
"Sounds to me like the little bastard's going to have his pick," Remo shot back.
"I should be at Cheeta's side," said Chiun, averting his face.
"Then why aren't you?"
"Remo. It would be unseemly; Cheeta is a married woman. There are those who would gossip."
"Beginning with her husband. He'd have you both on his TV talk show so fast your head would spin."
"I have seen his program. It is filth."
Remo got control of his voice, "It's called The Gabby Gynecologist," he explained patiently, "and doctor talk shows are the latest thing."
"I will accept talk. But they show pictures. Gross pictures."
Remo folded his arms. "No argument there. But if anything breaks on Cheeta's condition, you might as well be with me as sleeping."
"How so?"
Remo repressed a smile. The hook was baited. Now to reel in the unwary fish...
"Where I'm going," he said, "I'll be on the ground zero of TV news for the entire world. If Cheeta's water breaks, KNNN will probably have it on the air before Cheeta even knows it's happening."
"In that case," Chiun said, "I will remain here, my ears glued to KNNN."
"The expression is eyes. Eyes are glued to TVs, not ears."
"Glued eyes cannot see and I intend to resume my sleep. But I will leave the television device on, so that if the name of Cheeta Ching is spoken, I will snap awake and race to her side."
Remo frowned. "Last chance. The scuttlebutt is that Cheeta's been keeping her legs crossed until sweeps start, anyway."
Chiun's hazel eyes grew round with shock. The hair over each ear shook imperceptibly. "Is this possible-to hold the baby within the womb until the mother wishes to release it?"
"For normal woman, I don't know. For Cheeta Ching, I wouldn't put anything past her. She's so ratings crazed, she'll do anything for more face time-or whatever they'd televise."
"So speaks the green voice of jealousy," Chiun sniffed.
"So speaks a man who's had more than one run-in with that barracuda," Remo snapped.
"My mind is made up."
And it was. Hurt, Remo had left. It was hard to believe. Chiun actually cared more about some brat who hadn't even been born yet than he did about Remo.
All during the flight to Atlanta, Remo's eyes had felt hot and dry and there was a funny tightness in his throat. He couldn't figure it out ....
Now, racing through downtown Atlanta, he was angry. And he was going to take his anger out on whatever was behind this.
Up ahead, Remo could see the distinctive KNNN Tower emblazoned with its world-famous corporate symbol-a nautical anchor. The roof was a clump of satellite dishes, like crouching spiders searching the heavens for prey.
"I just hope that this is the right building," Remo growled.
The cab driver hoped so too. His passenger was wearing a really fierce expression. And the way he was gripping the upholstery and shredding the stuffing gave a man a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.