No Contest

“Oh, hello, Romeo, how are you?” Mrs. Mikulka sounded sunnier than she felt. She knew Romeo, of course. He had been around forever, although she was never sure exactly why, and Dr. Smith never offered an explanation. Mrs. Mikulka had finally decided that the old Chinese gentleman might even be the owner of Folcroft Sanitarium and the young man was his servant. How else could they gain unrestricted access, even to Dr. Smith’s office?

“I’ll put you through to Dr. Smith right away, Romeo.”

“No, thanks. I’d like to leave him a message. Would you take him a note, please?”

“But he’s in his office.”

“Can’t explain, Mrs. M. Be a dear.”.

“Certainly, if that’s what you would like. Go ahead.” She held a pen over her generic Folcroft Sanitarium memo pad—Dr. Smith didn’t believe in spending a premium for personalized stationery.

“Here goes. ‘Dr. S—no more blimps.’” A moment later he added, “Still with me, Mrs. M?”

“Yes, Romeo. Did I hear you correctly? You said—”

‘You heard me correctly Mrs. M. It’s sort of a business code”.

Mrs. Mikulka doubted that. This call was most unusual. “Do you wish to add a closing salutation? ‘Regards’ or ‘Sincerely’?”

“Hmm. Yes.” He gave her the closing salutation he wanted her to use. “That’s more business code,” the young man explained. “Thanks, Mrs. M!”

Mrs. Mikulka had never heard such gibberish in her life, but she was only the messenger. She knocked on the doctor’s office door and entered. Dr. Smith looked surprised to see her.

He took the note and became visibly agitated.

“I’m sorry I did not know his last name,” Mrs. Mikulka said. “I seem to have forgotten it. But how many Romeos would you know? Also, he said you would know the code word at the bottom. She pointed one wrinkly finger at the closing acronym “USOB.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Mikulka. I understand it perfectly.”

Mrs. Mikulka bade the doctor and Mark Howard good-night and left. Mark waited expectantly for Smith to explain himself.

“I’m keeping this to myself, Mark,” Smith said. “Please don’t ask questions.”

Mark Howard didn’t ask him, although Harold Smith was sure the young man knew what was going on. Mark would have guessed that Smith was doing some sort of intelligence gathering on the Sun On Jo reservation. The reference to a blimp in the message would have assuaged any doubts. What better to perform close-proximity surveillance in the predictable climate of the Arizona desert?

Smith also knew that Mark knew why he was being kept in the dark about it. It was because of the possible consequences of such surveillance. Remo Williams or even Master Chiun might take this violation of the reservation’s privacy very personally—and Smith did not want them to have any other target for the wrath other than himself.

But Smith had to know what the Sun On Jo knew.

Still, the threat from Remo was blatant enough. He was promising to make Smith’s worst nightmare a reality—exposing CURE. Mrs. Mikulka was just a first step.

Would Remo really do it? After all, Smith wasn’t really interfering with the Sun On Jo people, simply monitoring them. While the CURE contract with the Masters did have a family immunity clause, nothing in the contract stipulated he would not perform surveillance on any and all blood relatives of the aforementioned Masters of Sinanju.

Not that it mattered. Remo would be extremely angry if Smith persisted. Even sweet old Mrs. Mikulka could have figured out the meaning of “USOB” if she thought about it.

Smith couldn’t not persist. The Sun On Jo knew something; he had to know what they knew.

Maybe, just maybe, they knew even more than Smith about some things.…

Chapter 17

Colonel Simonec did the unthinkable. He called Washington.

“Better have a hell of a good reason for getting me out of bed,” General Elsey said.

“I just need a confirmation on this order, General,” he explained. “It’s another request for a USSA.”

“So?”

“General, we’ve had two requests for Unmanned Stealth Surveillance Airships. Both times we had control of the airships absconded by other authority, and both times the equipment was lost. Now there’s another request, only this time they want the Big Ear.”

“I see,” the general in Washington said. The Big Ear was the best USSA in the surveillance arsenal at the Department of Homeland Security Technology Development station on the military base in Yuma.

“The orders come through the correct channels?” the general demanded.

“Of course, sir,” Colonel Simonec said. “General Smith signed them. He’s got priority override clearance.”

“But?”

“General, I’m throwing away the biggest piece of equipment I’ve got. It’s as good as lost if I follow these orders, and quite frankly, I don’t have anything else in the garage that’s worth spit. Just a bunch of those partially functional recovered prototypes.”

The general in Washington sighed. “Let me see what this is all about, Alf.”

Colonel Simonec hung up and waited. He didn’t wait long.

“Colonel Simonec, this is General Elsey.” Suddenly the general in Washington had gone totally military on him.