"Forget dinosaur toes for a minute. We're on Smith's clock now. No perks."
"Pah! I am too distraught to think properly."
"We need to ring Cheeta Ching in on this," Remo said.
Immediately, the Master of Sinanju's voice grew softer.
"Cheeta. Smith wishes me to contact beauteous Cheeta?"
"Right away. Here's what you tell her ...."
The first thing Cheeta Ching wanted to know when she heard the familiar voice of the Master of Sinanju was, "Is Ringo with you, Grandfather?"
"Ringo?"
"That hunk with the wrists."
"No," Chiun said shortly.
"Oh. Next time you bump into him, could you tell him for me Cheeta has been thinking of him?"
"Perhaps. But I am calling for another reason. It is about a woman whose plight you should know . . . ."
Skip King was in an upscale singles bar in Dover, trying to hit on two blondes at once when a familiar voice came from the big-screen TV.
"You say you were let go by a vice president of Burger Triumph, who was sexually harassing you?"
King grunted. "Hasn't she dropped that kid yet?"
Then to his horror, the crisp voice of Nancy Derringer answered Cheeta Ching's pointed question.
"I wasn't let go. I was shunted aside by a gloryseeking Neanderthal named Skip King. I brought the dinosaur project to him and the minute he got the animal to this country, he pushed me out the door."
"This is about power, isn't it?" Cheeta asked.
"Isn't it always?" Nancy said.
"Dinosaurs and sexual repression,'' Cheeta said in a shrill voice. "Is modern man less evolved than modern woman? For a different perspective, here is science correspondent Frank Feldmeyer."
"Oh God." King said, gaping at the screen. "I'm toast."
"They're waiting for you," the head of security told Skip King when he burst breathless and panting into the lobby of the company headquarters.
"Are they mad?"
"You know the board. It's hard to say."
"Did-did they say anything about me? Anything bad?"
"Not to me. But they're in the boardroom and they've been there a solid hour."
Sweating, Skip King took the elevator to the top floor. "An hour. I've cost the board of directors an hour, and it's after business hours. An hour times six. Oh God! I'm costing the board six hours of their personal time. I'm burnt toast."
The board of directors looked up in unison when Skip King pushed open the glass doors. The CEO was seated at the far end, in a leather chair that had a tall, thronelike back. His cigar smoked in his fattish fist.
Along the sides, the others sat in similar oversized chairs.
"I came as soon as I heard," King croaked, reaching for the chair at his end of the long conference table.
The CEO gestured with his cigar.
"Don't bother. You won't be staying."
King gulped. "You-you're not-firing-me?"
"We think you should take some reflection time, King. Let things sort themselves out."
"But I can't. I'm ramrodding the Bronto project."
"We have that covered."
"Covered? What are you going to do when the press starts pounding on the doors for interviews? That Derringer dame just told Cheeta Ching we've got a fullgrown Brontosaurus Rex in our basement. And I'm the guy who captured it. The media will be howling for my story."
"Right now," came a cool voice from the highbacked seat directly in front of him, "the media is howling for your head."
Eyes wide, Skip King peered over the chair. Looking back at him were Nancy Derringer's upside down blue eyes. They were not friendly.
"Dr. Derringer has agreed to come back on board during the transition," explained the CEO.
"I thought it was the least I could do," said Nancy dryly.
"Look, I won't stand for this. I won't be cheated of my moment of glory."
"Skip," a senior VP said. "You wouldn't buck the board, now would you?"
"I-I might. Anything is possible when the corporate ladder breaks under your feet. I might even write a tell-all book. You never know with a corporate comer spurned."
The board regarded him with unblinking, unreadable eyes.
The CEO gestured to the door with his cigar. "Give us a moment, would you King? We need to confer."
King paced the rug outside the boardroom for twenty minutes. His jacket grew heavy with perspiration.
"This isn't happening," he muttered. "This isn't happening. I'm Skip King. I'm headed for the top."
When he was called back in, he found the board sitting placidly. Nancy looked unhappy. That was a good sign. He forced himself to breathe normally.
"We've decided you can stay with the project," the CEO said bluntly.
"Great. You won't regret-"
"Under Dr. Derringer."
King scowled. "A woman. I can't work under a woman."
"I suggest we take Mr. King at his word," Nancy said coolly.
"On second thought," King said hastily, "I can give it a shot. Why not? I'm a people person."
"Excellent. Take a seat, Dr. Derringer is making recommendations."
King sat. He folded his hands on the table until he realized how it looked. Then he hid them under the table so no one could see them tremble.
Nancy cleared her throat and said, "I have just examined the animal. It is clearly depressed."
"That's the most ridic-" King started to say. He shut up.
"And not adapting to the habitat. It's too early to tell what the problem is. I'd like to do a blood workup, toxicology tests, but of immediate concern is to move Punkin-"
"What happened to Old Jack?"
"Punkin is a more customer-friendly name," the CEO murmured.
King shut up again. The woman was smooth. She had them eating out of her hand. His eyes went around the room, wondering which one of them she was sleeping with.
"As I was saying," Nancy resumed, "Punkin must be moved as soon as possible. To a more suitable environment. Also, a more secret one since the press has been flooding the switchboard with inquiries."
"Now whose fault is that?" King snapped.
The CEO stood up abruptly. "King, help Dr. Derringer with all the arrangements."
"Yes, sir," King said unhappily.
On their way out, the board of directors stopped to give Nancy their compliments. King was ignored. That hurt most of all.
After the board had gone home, King stood up stiffly. "I guess I'll have to make the best of this. Where are we moving him?"
"That's classified," Nancy snapped, gathering up her files.
"Not from me."
"Especially from you."
"Then how can I help if I don't know where we're taking Old Jack?"
"Because B'wana is going home for the evening."
"You can't order me home."
"Would you rather I ask the board to do that?"
"You play a hard game of ball for a girl without any. "
"Try not to slam the door on your way out," Nancy said. "It's made of glass. Like your ego."
After King had left, Nancy went to her new office. Skip King's name was still on the door. By morning, that would be changed. At her new desk, she dialed her home number.
"Remo? Nancy. It's all set. We're moving Punkin tonight."
"Need any help? Chiun should be here in an hour or two."
"No. No time. Better wait for him. And stick by the phone. I'll call if I need you."
"Let's hope not. I'm in no mood to stand between Chiun and the wishbone of his choice all freaking night."
Chapter 21
Burger Triumph World Headquarters was a forty-story office tower surrounded by low satellite buildings. A golden crown surmounted the tower, making the lower buildings seem like kneeling subjects before a monolithic emperor. The park was accessible by a single service road and surrounded by a security fence.
The press was kept outside the fence. The security guard at the gate was under explicit instructions. If questioned about a dinosaur, laugh in their faces.