Remo didn’t resist as he was shoved into a seat and his belt was latched across his lap. With a brutal yank, the flight attendant tightened it further. Then she took the loose strap in both hands, braced her feet against the seat base, and put her entire body into the effort of dragging the belt as hard as she could.

  “Snug enough, sir?”

  “I do use the lower extremities, you know,” Remo pointed out.

  She came close, her eyes on fire. “Liar!”

  Then she stood, smiled and asked a stunned Mark Howard if he would like anything. Maybe a refreshing beverage?

  “Just water.” Howard asked worriedly. “Miss?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you know this gentleman?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, he has flown with us in the past,” she said, her smile brightening to a thousand watts. “He’s a manipulative bastard who uses women then throws them into the garbage heap.”

  She went to get his water.

  “Happens all the time,” Remo explained.

  The aircraft was stopped on the tarmac awaiting the go-ahead for takeoff, and yet the flight attendant still managed to stumble and spill the large plastic cup of water she was bringing Howard. She was disappointed that Remo had somehow, without her noticing, moved to another seat, and the water missed him.

  “I’ll get you another, sir.”

  “This is fine,” Howard insisted as he took the half- emptied water bottle from her hand. “I don’t need a cup.”

  She simmered at Remo and took her seat in the galley.

  “Now you know why I hate flight attendants,” Remo said.

  “Maybe you should treat them with a little more respect.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking. Maybe you have the time to intercourse the flight crew of every commercial aircraft in the North American commercial fleets—I don’t. Let’s talk. Junior.”

  Mark Howard felt his stomach drop as the aircraft left the ground and muscled its way skyward. “I’m sorry, Remo. How many times can I say it.”

  “Huh? Junior, you never once said you were sorry about any of this.”

  “Any of what?”

  “Hello? Nice Remo taking a nice vacation, mean old Mark come and make nice Remo leave?”

  “I’m not sorry about that!”

  “What I want to know is, where in my contract does it say that you get to call and demand my services whenever you feel like it?”

  Howard rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Remo, I don’t know where and if I told you section and paragraph it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. I do know there is a 24/7 clause in the contract.”

  Remo looked suspicious. “What’s a 24/7 clause?”

  “Just what it sounds like. It means you’ll be available 24/7.”

  “Is that some sort of code for ‘all the time’?”

  Howard sighed. “You know, twenty-four hours in a day, seven days a week.”

  “This one of Smitty’s sneaky word tricks?”

  “It’s a pretty common term.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s internet vernacular.”

  “Figures.”

  “Can we talk about the mission now?”

  “Any other internet vernacular in the contract? I want to know what other unpleasant obligations I have.”

  “I don’t have a copy of your contract on me,” Howard exclaimed. “Why is every conversation with you like arguing with a smart parrot?”

  Remo grinned and sat back in his seat. “Could be worse. Could be Chiun.”

  “Chiun is not worse! Chiun is not as egotistical.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Chiun is not as arrogant.”

  “He’s the emperor of arrogance.”

  “But he’s a grown-up, Remo. Maybe that’s what makes the difference.”

  “I think I’ll throw a snit now and give you the silent treatment all the way to New York.”

  “We’re going to Morocco.”

  “Aw, crap.”

  Mark endured the silent treatment only so long before he said, “Look, Remo, I know I made an idiot of myself in Arizona.”

  Remo said nothing.

  “I was just looking at her. I mean, I saw her, and she sort of took my breath away. I feel bad about it.”

  Remo shook his head. “You don’t feel bad about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I was over it before we left the village. You’re the one who won’t let it drop.”

  “Oh.” Mark Howard looked at Remo seriously and said, “But you know I would never even try to—you know.”

  “What? Take Freya to the movies?”

  “Yes. I could never take her to the movies. There’s a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work, even if I wanted it to.”

  ‘Which you don’t,” Remo added.

  “’Course not. CURE security would never allow it. Not to mention the distance between Rye and Yuma, and who knows if she would have any interest in me at all anyway, even if I did have an interest in her? Then there’s the cultural differences.” Mark stopped. “What kind of a cultural background does she have? Freya’s not a Native American name.”

  “No, she didn’t join the Sun On Jos until she was I twelvish. Before that she was the daughter of Norse princess and the avatar of Hindu deity.”

  Howard said, “Okay, I deserve that.”

  “Deserve what? That’s the truth.”

  “You’re trying to demonstrate how you feel about me checking out your daughter.”

  Remo smirked. “Wrong, Junior. It’s not like that. I’m not going to go roughing up guys who get interested in Freya. She’s as intelligent as she is beautiful, and she’s got good instincts. She can take care of herself and she sure as shitting can make her own good decisions.”

  Howard nodded. “Do you, you know, have a father-daughter relationship?”

  “With our history?” Remo asked. “Not too much. Sunny Joe might be a different story.”

  “Sunny Joe’s like you,” Mark said. “He wouldn’t dream of telling Freya how to run her life. It’s not his way. That’s what I picked up from him, anyway.”

  “You pegged him.”

  “And Freya?”

  Remo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared down. Instead of the floor he saw the goldenhaired image of Freya catching a coyote in her hands in the Arizona desert.

  “Freya is Sun On Jo,” Remo said. “She’s all the best of Sun On Jo ways rolled up into one human being.”

  Mark smiled, shrugged a little. “I haven’t a clue what Sun On Jo is all about, so I don’t really know what it says about her.”

  “She’s taken to heart everything Sunny Joe Roam had to teach her. I guess Sunny Joe’s really her father.” Remo thought about his own words and felt…what? Lonely? Saddened? Yes, he felt sad.

  Mark got down to business. “I’ve got to warn you, Remo, Dr. Smith is unhappy.”

  “Smitty and happy are like matter and antimatter. They can’t exist in the same room together.”

  “No, Remo,” Mark said, “I mean he’s really angry. Like I’ve never seen him before. And you’re the one he’s mad at.”

  “Because I took time off? He’s out of line.”

  “Just warning you.” Mark Howard flipped open his laptop and dialed a satellite connection into Folcroft’s secure system, and a moment later the cabin of the aircraft was treated to the lemony voice of Dr. Harold W. Smith through the laptop speakers.

  “Is Remo with you, Mark?”

  “I’m here and I’m not in the mood for your crap.”

  “Remo, do you know what trouble you’ve caused?”

  “Didn’t you hear the part about the crap?”

  “Military components have been sold on the black market. A CIA agent is dead. You could have prevented these things from happening.”

  “Bulldookey.”

  “That’s just the start, Remo. You’ve been getting out.. of hand lately. You flagrantly compromise the security of CURE.”

  “Do not.”

  “You’ve been raking up huge, frivolous expenses.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “And you’re doing a bad job.”

  “Remember what I said at the start of this phone call? Your crap. Not in the mood.”

  “I don’t care if you’re in the mood or not, I want you to be aware just how poorly—”

  “What happens when I do this?” Remo asked Mark, slapping the laptop computer closed. It latched with a click.

  “Remo!” Howard exclaimed. “You disconnected Dr. Smith.”

  “Really? That’s exactly what I wanted to do. See, I know how to work a computer.”

  Mark Howard quickly opened the unit and didn’t have to dial into Folcroft, because the line was ringing in.

  “Remo, I do not appreciate this disrespect,” Smith said insistently.

  “I don’t appreciate being treated like your errand boy.”

  “You have an obligation—”

  “I have a life. Not much of one outside of CURE, but it is a little tiny one. How did that fit into this whole thing?”

  “Not at all,” Smith intoned angrily.

  “That’s what I thought,” Remo said and closed the computer again, so fast Mark Howard couldn’t begin to stop him.

  “Remo!” He opened it swiftly.

  “Take a letter, Junior.”

  “What?” The computer made a distinctly insistent and lemony beeping.

  “Answer that, Junior, and I’ll turn the computer off again, permanently.”

  Mark heard it in Remo’s voice—this was not any I kind of kidding around. “I can’t ignore Dr. Smith.”

  “‘Dear Dr. Emperor Smitty.’ Type it exactly as I say it, Junior.”

  Mark Howard sighed and typed.

  “‘Please refer to my previously stated conditions for continuing this conversation.”’

  “What previously stated conditions?” Mark demanded.

  “It’s not to you. You don’t need to know.”

  “If I don’t understand. I’m sure Dr. Smith won’t.”

  “Fine. ‘Conditions are as follows.’ Type that. ‘Conditions are as follows. Dr. Smith will give Remo no crap and Remo defines what is crap. Otherwise Remo gets off the plane.’”

  “You can’t get off…”

  “Send it.”

  Mark sent it. A few minutes later an email came back. “Will discuss only the current assignment.”

  “I don’t trust him, but I’ll give him another chance.” It was a cold, cold Dr. Smith who came back on-line when Mark reconnected.

  “This is the situation, Remo, as of this moment.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “I’m here,” Remo said.

  “Good.”

  Remo could almost feel the unspoken sarcastic comment that was something like, “I thought maybe you got off the plane.” Let the old fart stew.

  “There has been a number of thefts in recent months that defy explanation. The targets have all been research labs for U.S. defense industries.”

  “Explain ‘defy explanation,”’ Remo said.

  “I will. In four recent cases research labs in the southwestern United States have been burgled.”

  “Burgled?”

  “Burgled. Defenses penetrated by an individual with rather startling capabilities. These are among the most highly secure laboratories anywhere, designed to be j impenetrable by an army or even a skilled special- forces unit. Still, someone broke into each of them and made off with valuable military technology.”

  “How?”

  “We think we have a partial answer to that,” Smith said. His voice had ceased being icy and was now simply frosty. “Here’s how it happened. Mark?”

  Mark typed on the computer and quickly brought a computer-generated graphic onto the wide screen. The pale yellow map had light brown broken lines for the state borders of Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Utah and Colorado. There was a red dot in each state for the capital city, but there was nothing for the Sun On Jo reservation. Remo was already wishing he was back there. He felt cheated.

  “What’s with the slide show?” he asked. “I don’t usually get the whole secret-agent briefing.”

  “One reason, we have time,” Smith said dryly. “For another, it is pertinent, as you’ll see. Mark?”

  “Mark?” Remo echoed.

  Mark shot Remo a dark look and fiddled with the keys of the computer, bringing up a small blinking star. “This was three weeks ago. A technology firm was hit about ten miles south of Flagstaff. The laboratory was ransacked and the company mainframes were destroyed. One hard drive was stolen, as well as test materials. Then the lab was burned to the ground.”

  “Somebody really hated that lab, I guess,” Remo said.

  “Someone was very determined to steal the technology the firm was developing for the U.S. military, and they were also determined to be sure no one else would have it. They left no usable electronic or hard files.”

  Remo frowned. “Didn’t they make backup copies? You know, like on a floppy disc?”

  “First of all, Remo” Smith said sourly, “the amount of data the company generated would not fit onto ten thousand floppy discs. The company did make remote backups of their data, but their data generation was dynamic. The material they were developing was actually being formulated using a software that combined attributes of various chemicals and their deposition technologies and measuring the theoretical results.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The software was the real marvel,” Mark explained. “The software was what was creating the materials for the military. A software copy and a six-day-old data dump were stored off-site. The problem was that the hardware to run the software is unique and will have to be rebuilt before the software can be run again.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Remo said. “So what?”

  “The materials being developed by the firm were for stealth paint,” Smith said.

  “Stealth paint? To make your split-level invisible to radar?”

  “To make just about anything invisible to radar, lidar, infrared, you name it,” Mark explained. “It was just about perfected. The thief knew the right moment to strike. He got the coating and he left the research firm incapable of recreating its own technology for the immediate future.”

  “The thief also took the only test batch of the material. The older samples were poured out and ruined in the fire,” Smith said. “We believe the thief then used the material as a coating when he next penetrated two military laboratories in rapid succession in a high-security complex near Phoenix.”

  “Okay,” Remo said, hoping to hurry all this along. “The thefts were for missile guidance systems. Old systems, outdated by current U.S. state-of-the-art but decades ahead of the systems used by most global militaries,” Mark said. “They’ve got a lot of black market value. The last theft took place a week ago.”

  The screen lit up with a marker in south central New Mexico.

  “This time the thief targeted a research lab operated at White Sands,” Mark said.

  “Wasn’t the Air Force being especially careful after the first three thefts?” Remo asked. “Who did this, anyway? Who could get into a military base, let alone a top- secret compound, without being noticed? I could. Chiun could. I don’t know who else could.”

  Remo realized he was fibbing. He did know who else could. Freya could, if what he had witnessed in recent days was any indication.

  “Hey, they weren’t doing any testing on animals, were they?” Remo added.

  “What?” Mark said.

  “Forget it.”

  “Interesting that you should mention yourself and Chiun,” Smith said in a droll voice. “We’ve got some video from the surveillance at White Sands. Mark?”

  “Mark?” Remo added.

  Mark made an effort to ignore Remo as he brought a video onto the screen. It was a dark concrete lot, a small drift of sand swelling over it in a steady breeze. “White Sands. We tapped into their security system and found three conditions of security tape from the time of the theft. This is unaltered tape, and yet we see no sign of the intruder.”

  “Because he’s covered in stealth paint?” Remo asked.

  “Watch,” Mark said.

  Remo spotted the movement. It was a flash of a tiny, whirling blade and it moved outside of the chain-link fence that towered out of sight on the screen. It moved up, over and down, and the flicker was enough to attract the attention of the motion-sensitive camera. It targeted the spot, turning to bring the movement to the center of the frame.

  “The camera automatically switches to thermal, senses nothing,” Mark said. The image became green with bright spots, showing just a faint glimmer of something beyond the fence. “Then it switches to a white negative view, and finally back to normal vision. Sound and laser landscape measurement systems are also at work. They sense nothing.”

  “There’s something there,” Remo protested. He could see it, although the limitations of the video recording made it indefinable.

  “According to the algorithms driving the security system, there’s nothing,” Smith said. “It watched the same spot for two hours and there was no further movement Not so much as the rising and falling of a breathing human being.”

  “Then this, after two hours,” Mark said. He touched a key and the camera was still on the same spot on the fence, although Remo could see a shifting of the stars in the background to prove time had passed. The camera jerked abruptly to the right, falling upon a tiny mechanical device that hopped across the concrete and froze against the fence.

  “The camera decided later this was a rabbit.”

  “Looks like the toy from a Happy Meal.”

  “While the camera was distracted, the fence cut-out was opened and closed,” Smith said.

  The camera panned back to the fence, where the opening was now slightly askew. There was nothing behind it now. Remo had to admit that whatever went through it had moved skillfully.

  “The second kind of tape we saw was deliberately distorted,” Mark said, bringing up a view from within a hallway that was suddenly a sea of swimming monochrome shades. “Lasers polarize the lens. A similar sound-obstructing technology erases the sound before the security picks it up. The third kind of video we downloaded was when the intruder deliberately revealed itself.”