"They're only the things that caused the damned disaster in the first place," muttered Remo. He looked out the windows at the mountains of Gupta, majestic peaks of strong beauty, each veined with trails leading down to the city.
"Who was responsible for the valves?"
"The entire department."
"Were there any new people in the department?"
"The entire department was new."
"And who was responsible before them?"
"An American engineer and some untouchables. You know how crazy Americans are. They did not see the difference between an untouchable and a Brahman as you do, sir."
"They are a peculiar race."
"The British understood the difference."
"The British understand these things," said Chiun. "Generally an intelligent people."
"Except for Henry the Eighth," said Remo, "who did his own killing and didn't pay Sinanju. Right?"
"Are you perchance from Sinanju, of the legendary Masters of Sinanju?" asked Palul.
"The very same," said Chiun, looking over to Remo to see if he noticed the proper respect being paid. "Oh, gracious. No wonder you're friends of the P.M. By Jove, this is a most remarkable bit of good fortune. We must have you to dinner. Oh please, don't say no. You are our most honored guests."
"No," said Remo.
"He is affected by the sun," said Chiun.
"The House of Sinanju, you know, served a lord near here."
"Of course we know," said Chiun. "And so does he, when he studies his lessons. "
"The House of Sinanju here in lowly Gupta . . ." said Palul.
"Are you listening to this good man, Remo?" asked Chiun.
Remo did not answer.
"He has emotional problems," Chiun confided to Palul.
"Get back to the valves. None of you guys from Nepal to Korea knows how a damned valve works. That's why you're all so damned backward," Remo said.
Chiun chuckled. "He is the worst with any equipment. He cannot dial a telephone without falling over his own fingers. Nothing works when he attempts to run it."
"Is he retarded?"
"Only in some areas," said Chiun.
"Back to business, please," said Remo. He thought about the little boy outside. The less everyone else cared about him, the more Remo felt sorry for him. He might not even make it to manhood, and no one would know. No one would care, and the rich would send their sons to school in the West to then make pronouncements about the disparity between north-south wealth and how it should be redistributed. All of these things said by the rich of those countries because the poor couldn't afford an education. None of these leaders of the poor countries would share so much as a crust of bread with their poor, and yet for some reason they expected other nations to do what they refused to do.
"What has changed here in the last year?" asked Chiun.
"If anything, safety and maintenance, which the American engineers blamed for the leakage, have been improved. Vastly. Our budget has grown in these areas."
"Good," said Chiun. "And how did that come about?"
"Well, there was a strong movement to replace the American engineer, to put Indians in that position. And we did. We put many in that position. We had three administrators to begin with."
"And who watched these valves?"
"I don't know. I don't bother with those things. I am president of this local branch, not some rag runner."
"Please be so kind as to tell me who is in charge of the valves."
"I don't know."
"Find out," said Chiun.
It took almost half a day to get the information, with one director after another coming in and out of the office and each of them thinking it was peculiar that someone so lofty as their president would care about some valve or other. They were all sure it was being taken care of by another department.
They all knew it used to be taken care of by some American engineer and a group of untouchables. "How did the change happen?" asked Chiun.
"What do you care, little father? Let's go down and look at where it happened."
"It did not happen there," said Chiun. "How did the change happen?"
"It just happened. There was a spontaneous demand to put our own people in charge."
"Then nowhere was where it came from," said Chiun. And he asked from whom the president of the branch had first heard this spontaneous demand.
"It was all over," said Rashad Palul.
"No. Nowhere has to come from somewhere," said Chiun, and insisted that Palul question all his subordinates.
Some had read about it in the papers. Others had thought a local administrator was behind it. The editorial writer of the English-language Times of Gupta claimed it was his own idea.
"From my indignation at the arrogance of the racist West. From my firm rooting in third-world struggles. From my sense of being an Indian."
Remo grabbed him by his legs, pressed his foot to the man's throat which now was adjacent to the rug in the office of the factory president, and asked the editorial writer to clarify his statement.
"From voices. White-sounding voices. I overheard them saying insulting things."
"And where did these voices come from?"
"Outside my window."