No Contest

Smith stopped again. Her eyes met his, quite sober. “Since no Master of Sinanju would work for anyone less powerful than a king, it’s easy to assume they are a part of a powerful organization working under the direction of the top levels of the U.S. government. Since assassination is forbidden under U.S. law, it’s no leap of logic to conclude this agency is secret. I could be wrong about some of this—I don’t understand the Caucasian Master part of the puzzle, either.” She shrugged and rolled on, unstoppable. “Regardless, you, as director of the Sanitarium and Mark’s superior, are obviously the one in charge of whatever this splinter government or secret intelligence unit is. Knowing Chiun’s tendency to adhere to tradition—although, again, the White Master is in contradiction to that—I know he would only work for a man he considered to possess the authority of a king. You, Dr. Smith, must be one of the most powerful people in the United States, and therefore the world.”

Dr. Smith opened his mouth to respond. Sarah never let him.

“Shortly after I arrive at Folcroft and figure all this out, Chiun returns from some endeavor with Remo in a state of catatonia. Chiun’s distraught. Remo appears to be beyond his help and certainly beyond the help of conventional medicine. I, however, know how to save him. Uh-oh, I’ve raised your radar again.”

They had strolled to the end of the private hall. This was a secure wing, designed to house Remo, Chiun and other CURE secrets, but Smith felt naked as he was bombarded by this girl’s revelation. He was astounded and, frankly, irritated that she knew more than him about some topics.

“Understand that my ancestor Andrew helped his friend, the Sinanju Master Go, recover from a similar infirmity. Master Go was put in a coma by some sort of mystical mesmerist, but it was the same kind of affliction. Go neglected to own up to this in the Sinanju record of history, because Chiun didn’t know of it I used the Andrew Slayte technique to revive Remo.”

“You saved Remo?”

Sarah Slate laughed lightly. “I just did what old Andrew did, Dr. Smith. Chiun could have saved Remo. I tried to tell him, but Chiun was too vexed with me at the time to really listen.”

“I see.”

She became serious. “All that night I sat with Chiun and Remo and felt his loathing. Chiun hated me because I told him I could save Remo. The poor man felt beyond hope of bringing Remo back. I gave him hope, but he believed it had to be false. Therefore, he believed I was unconscionably cruel.”

Smith tried to take in all he was learning. He wasn’t aware Remo had been so desperately ill, nor that Chiun was in despair of saving him. Remo was comatose for days, but Smith assumed Remo would eventually come around, with Chiun’s ministrations.…

“Chiun credits you with saving Remo,” Smith said. “Thus the token of respect.” A token of respect from Chiun was a brilliantly rare thing—if you were not a potential employer, when it smacked of salesmanship.

Sarah Slate, with a pretty child’s face, standing there in Mark Howard’s baggy sweatpants and shirt, looked like a teenybopper at a slumber party. She’d raise suspicions trying to get a driver’s license. And yet she held a place of esteem in the eyes of the Master of Sinanju Emeritus, who esteemed no one.…

“Yes, well, here I am,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Mark’s been trying to protect me from the truth, but I know all the basics, don’t I? So what are you going to do about me, Dr. Smith? Neutralize me?”

She was so frank, so sincere he was taken aback, but he shook his head slightly and gave her a sour smile. “Ms. Slate, I can assure you of this—you will never be neutralized.” He inclined his head; somehow she knew he was indicating the emblem on her throat. “You are untouchable.”

She furrowed her brow. “Because of a little gold charm?”

Oh my God. Smith hadn’t considered that little fact before. Chiun hadn’t just gifted her, a non-Korean child, with the emblem of Sinanju—he had gifted her with gold.

Looking worried, Mark Howard appeared in Smith’s office.

“Sarah knows all about CURE, doesn’t she?” he asked. “She wouldn’t tell me what you talked about, but I guessed. Nobody told her anything, I swear. She knew about Chiun the moment she laid eyes on him, and she figured everything else out on her own. She’s perceptive.”

Smith was chewing antacids. He nodded, agreeing with everything his assistant director said.

“It’s not her fault, Dr. Smith. You can’t possibly—”

“You’re right. I can’t.”

Mark Howard limped to the ancient sofa against the wall and collapsed into it, relieved.

“I’ll be blunt. The reason I can’t, specifically, is because of Chiun. He’s taken an unusual interest in her. If I were to harm her, his response would be disastrous.”

The merciless explanation stiffened Mark’s spine. “I understand.”

“You don’t. You’re not coldhearted enough to understand.”