As in all crisis situations, almost everyone concentrated solely on saving his own life, and therefore any observation was secondary. So when the police put it together, they got something they had to attribute to hysteria.
There were several men firing pistols. Everyone agreed on that. Then one man or twenty men — no one could agree — began moving at the four men. Some said he moved quickly, so fast they couldn't see him. Others said his movements were strangely slow, as though he actually slowed down the whole world he was in. The gunmen seemed suddenly to become unable to fire accurately, shooting at the ceiling and the floor.
But some witnesses said that was where the quick- (or slow-) moving man was.
In any case, four narcotics enforcers were blotted up from the normally well-polished floor of the airport after the fracas. One man, who was traveling to Los Angeles with his elderly Oriental father, was the only one who said he saw absolutely nothing, and that he hid all the time. Which was just another contradiction in this strangest of all cases for the Dade County sheriff's office. Because he was the one a few people thought was doing the attacking of the gunmen.
“You were sloppy,” said Chiun. “You have not been so sloppy for years, and you say you are good enough.”
“They're dead. I'm not,” said Remo.
“And I suppose that's good enough for you,” said Chiun.
“The other way around is no bargain.”
“Just to succeed at something is not enough. You must succeed correctly,” said Daphne.
Chiun smiled. “She is correct. Listen. Even she knows what I am talking about.”
“That's Poweressence,” said Daphne.
“That is the truth,” said Chiun.
“I'm going up front,” said Remo.
“You don't have tickets for up front,” said Daphne.
“I'll reason with someone,” said Remo.
In a few moments a harried accountant begged to take the seat in the rear of the plane instead of his first- class assignment. He had traded with a gentleman with an absolutely foul personality.
“He's met Remo,” said Daphne.
“I have had to live with him many years now,” said Chiun.
“You poor wonderful man.”
“I do not complain,” said Chiun.
“You're so decent and sweet.”
“I only do what is right,” said Chiun. “I have trained him through the years to do what is right, but he does not listen. He takes this wonderful training and gives it away to madmen.”
“That's awful,” said Daphne.
“I do not complain,” said Chiun. “We have a fine family tradition, but he ignores it.”
“That's awful,” said Daphne.
“I do not complain,” said Chiun.
“You are the most wonderful decent splendid human being I have ever met,” said Daphne.
“And you are the most perfect person ever to give a character test,” said Chiun. “You are so good at judging them.”
* * *
At the Dolomo estate, Rubin heard the good news and the bad news. The good news was that the Miami franchise was sending back the million dollars. The bad news was that the money would be returned because it hadn't been earned.
“They killed four of the best hit men in the city, Rubin, and they are coming right for you.”
Rubin Dolomo barely had enough energy to get to the Motrin bottle. He emptied it into his mouth and rested against a stack of Level Nine books called
Then he went to Beatrice's room and waited outside until the grunts and groans were over. Beatrice was testing out a new bodyguard. Rubin did not like the fact that she cheated on him. But it did have its rewards. When Beatrice had a new attractive man to service her, she did not bother Rubin.
Beatrice was as seductive as a freight train and just as unreasoning. Her foreplay consisted of two English sentences.
“Okay. Now.”
When the young man came out of her room, Rubin grabbed him and asked:
“Is she done? Did you satisfy her?”
“You're her husband. How can you ask that?”
“If you aren't enough, she'll want me.”
“She's done,” said the new bodyguard.
Ever so discreetly Rubin opened the door and entered his wife's boudoir. Apparently the sex had done something for her, because now she had an absolutely foolproof plan to kill the President of the United States and “get them off our backs forever.”
Chapter 8
She was eighteen. She didn't know if that were old enough for someone so distinguished.
“Hell, honey, that's old enough. You're not too young. I'm just too married.”
She laughed. She thought that was the smartest thing she had ever heard anyone say. She never knew anyone who could think of answers like that. Just right out of their head like that.
The Air Force colonel would have dismissed these remarks as absurd flattery except that they came from a strawberry blond. And she had just the sort of body he dreamed about. She came up to his shoulder and had breasts like cantaloupes. Colonel Dale Armbruster remembered using that word in describing just those kinds of breasts. It was in a character test he had taken at some kook place. He forgot the place. But Armbruster did remember it was free. And one of the questions was what his ideal sexual fantasy would be. He had described the woman. Very young, a fawning personality... And her looks. Strawberry hair, short, just up to his shoulder, and breasts like cantaloupes.
“And what negative forces keep you from enjoying this?” the young questioner had asked.
“My wife and her attorney, who could draw blood from bone.”
“So you are afraid of your wife? Would you like to live free from that sort of fear?”
“Sure. Wouldn't you?”
“I do,” the questioner had told him.
“Yeah, but you're eighteen, and I am fifty-three.”
“Do you feel that age hinders you?”
“No. There are just some limitations, that's all.”
“In your job?”
“No. I like my job.”
“What positive forces are at work that make you like your job?”
“I really can't go into it.”
“Does your job bother you?”
“No. I just can't go into it.”
“Do you feel some negative blocks stopping you from going into your job? You see, in Poweressence we know that what a person does is what a person is, not what he eats, but what he does. Do you know what I mean by that?”
“It's part of my job not to talk about what I do. No block on my part.”
