"I see your point. But this still leaves us in a bad way. The Vice-President just phoned. He wanted to know if I had ordered him terminated because of that speech he gave the other day. The fellow is so scared he thinks his commander in chief wants him out of the picture."
"I'm sure that's just a nervous reaction. People who narrowly escape death often act irrationally for a brief time afterward. "
"I had to tell him I didn't know what he was talking about, which, of course, only made him more suspicious. Smith, I can't have the Vice-President thinking he's a target of his own government."
"Why don't I put my special person on it?" Smith offered. "If there's another attempt on the Vice-President's life, we'll be there to stop it."
"Maybe that will prove to him we're on the side of the angels. Okay, Smith. Go to it. Keep a low profile. If we can pull this off, we might be able to get the Vice-President to see the light."
"Yes, Mr. President. Thank you, sir," said Smith, hanging up.
Smith had no sooner settled into his chair then his secretary informed him that the head gardener wanted to see him.
"Who? Oh, send him in," said Smith, suddenly realizing whom she meant.
Remo Williams walked in, clutching a newspaper. "Smitty, I think you have a problem," Remo said worriedly.
"Whatever it is, it can wait. I have an assignment for Chiun."
"I was reading the paper," continued Remo. "Where is it now?" He rummaged through the newspaper, dropping sections all over the floor. "Here it is," said Remo, folding one page and laying it on Smith's desk.
"I thought you never read the papers," said Smith.
"I was catching up on the funnies," explained Remo. "I came across this little item."
Smith followed Remo's pointing finger.
"I'm surprised your computers didn't alert you to this one, Smitty," Remo said.
Smith read the headline: "PRINCIPPI PROMISES END TO COVERT OPERATIONS."
"The governor gave that speech the other day," Smith said flatly. But he read the lead paragraph anyway.
"Oh, my God," Smith said slowly.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Smitty?"
"Princippi knows too," Smith breathed.
"That's what I thought," said Remo. "The way he ended his speech with the line about curing the country. It just seemed odd to me. What do you mean, 'too'?" Remo said suddenly.
"The Vice-President knows," said Smith, glassy-eyed. He stared at the ceiling.
"Well, that isn't so terrible, is it? I mean, if anyone had to find out, those guys aren't exactly the worst possibilities."
"It's not who they are," Smith said. "It's where they learned about CURE-assuming that is the case."
"The President?"
"He assures me that he did not. And we know that none of the former presidents could have revealed the truth."
"Yeah," said Remo. "Chiun and I have seen to that. A quiet visit while they're sleeping and a simple pressure on a nerve in their temples. A few whispered words, and instant selective amnesia. They don't remember that CURE exists."
"No, the leak is not from our government, past or present. I feel confident about that much."
"What are you going to do about it? I know it won't matter to me and Chiun. We'll be out of here in another few days, but if CURE is terminated, you go down the tubes with it. Call me sentimental, but I'd hate to see that happen. "
"Thank you, Remo. It's very kind of you to say that."
"You know, Smitty," Remo said casually, "I used to hate you."
"I know."
"What you did to me-the frame for a killing I didn't do, the faked electric chair, the grave with my name on it-it was all pretty nasty."
"It was necessary. We needed a man who no longer existed because the organization would not officially exist."
"But it worked out. Look at me. I'm Sinanju now. Over in Korea I have a beautiful girl waiting for me and a house I built with my own hands. Everything is going to be all right. I feel pretty good about it. Oh, there were some rough times, but it's going to work out for me. I want it to work out for you too."
"Thank you, Remo," said Smith sincerely. He was uncomfortable with displays of emotion, but he and Remo had been through many trials together. It felt good to know that Remo no longer held a grudge. "Perhaps, Remo, you can do me a favor."
"What's that?"
"The Vice-President has just escaped an assassination attempt. I'm detailing Chiun to watch over him in case there is another incident. Could you pitch in?"
Remo considered. "Sounds like an easy gig. Okay, Smitty. One last assignment. A freebie."
"Thank you," said Smith. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."
"Just keep the submarine gassed up," said Remo, smiling. And he left the room whistling cheerfully.
Chapter 10
Security around Blair House was the tightest it had been since 1950, when Puerto Rican nationalists had tried to assassinate President Truman, who had been living there while the White House was undergoing renovation.
After the attempt on his life in Philadelphia, the Vice-President had been flown back to Washington to decompress. His private home was considered impossible to defend, so he had taken up residence at Blair House-where visiting heads of state usually stayed-across the street from the White House. Movable concrete barriers were placed in front of the ornate gray building to discourage car bombs, which were a favorite tactic of Middle Eastern terrorists. Snipers were deployed on the roof, and Secret Service agents patrolled the neighborhood, walkie-talkies in hand.
There had been no concrete identification made of the would-be assassin in Philadelphia. He had died at the scene. But he was believed to be a Middle Easterner, nationality unknown. It was assumed that the man had not acted alone because a taxi was seen leaving the scene. It was later found abandoned, its driver murdered in the back seat. A witness had come forward and described three Middle Eastern nationals who had been seen running from the car, and although a manhunt for persons of that type was immediately initiated, no trace of any accomplice was found. But the tentative identification of the dead attacker as Middle Eastern had galvanized the Secret Service. They were prepared for any terrorist attack on the Vice-President's life short of a tactical nuclear weapon.
They were not prepared for the two men who sauntered down Pennsylvania Avenue as if they owned it and all the land around it as far as the eye could see.
Secret Service Agent Orrin Snell received a routine notification when the two passed a Secret Service checkpoint near the George Washington University Hospital.
"Two subjects coming your way," the checkpoint told him via walkie-talkie.
"Descriptions?" Snell asked.