No Contest

“You disconnected them, sir,” the airman explained. The phone twittered and he answered it. “Hello, Sergeant Samuels speaking. One moment.” He turned to Remo. “They called back, sir. Please don’t press anything, sir. Just talk.”

Remo took it. “Hello?”

“Remo, it’s me.”

“Oh, you!”

“Smith,” Smith clarified. “I’m ready to compromise.”

“Still busted,” Remo informed Samuels as he sent the phone flying. “You should hear the nonsense coming out of it.”

Samuels batted it from hand to hand a few times before catching it, amazingly intact. The phone made another birdie noise.

“For you again, sir.” Samuels sounded nervous.

“Okay, I’ll try one more time—just for you, Admiral.” Remo held it up and said, “Is it you?”

“Yes. It is I. Smith. I am ready to write a new contract”

“Finally. But first things first.”

“What would the first thing be?”

Remo glanced over his shoulder. “Could you wait in the media room, Gunnery Sergeant? Thanks. Don’t touch anything, especially my stuffed Buddha.” When the airman left, Remo said, “The family comes first, Smitty. My family. My people. They’re off-limits.”

“Agreed.”

“They don’t get pestered. They don’t get spied on. They don’t get harassed, subpoenaed or inconvenienced, ever.”

“Hands off. I understand.”

“No, not hands off. Hands on.” Remo declared. “We have got to be crystal clear on this, Smitty. If I come back, CURE has a new job. Protecting my people from interference by any and all government busybodies. The President doesn’t bug them, CURE sure the hell doesn’t bug them—nobody does. They don’t even get called to jury duty. You make that happen.”

“You want me to write that into the CURE mandate, Remo?” Smith asked. “I can say yes, but the President might not be agreeable.”

“That’s okay, Smitty,” Remo said. “If you give me your word, then it’s as good as being official policy, right?”

“Right. I’ll give you my word. CURE will take a policy of noninterference and protection. We’ll leave the Sun On Jo alone unless and until there is need for bureaucratic dissuasion.”

“Which means you’ll get in the muckety muck only if bad people come from the government. Right?”

“Right.”

“No more cheap spy tricks.”

“Yes. I have said yes, haven’t I?” Smith showed his irritation.

Remo chuckled. “That blimp wasn’t so cheap, was it?”

Smith sighed. “The expense was substantial, but that’s a lesser consideration compared to the cleanup. The Department of Homeland Security is sure to perform an internal audit to determine what happened. They’ll come to a dead end, eventually. It’s going to complicate our efforts in the future.”

“You’ll find a way,” Remo said, feeling pretty good about things.

Smith sounded less relieved. “There is still the matter of CURE security, Remo. The Sun On Jo represent a major gap in our intelligence containment structure.”

“And for all the taxpayer dollars you frittered away eavesdropping on the homestead, you still think they have all this inside intelligence? Just deal with it, Smitty. Winner knows a little. Freya and Sunny Joe know even less. They’d be glad to forget all about you if you let them.”

“I must, so I will,” Smith said.

Remo chuckled. “You sound like you just drank lemon juice, Smitty. You know what I always say—sprinkle in a little sugar and you’ll make lemonade.”

“This is the wisdom of Master Remo,” muttered a voice from far, far back in the RV. “Wisdom so great it does not need to be recorded in the Sinanju scrolls, for it may be found on wooden plaques in common roadside gift shops.”

“It may be common, but it works for me,” Remo called back.

“What?” Smith asked.

“Talking to my Buddha. That’ s what they called him on TV.”

“Which brings us to the next subject, if you’re satisfied that we’re done discussing the first condition?”

“Yeah. What do you want to talk about next?”

“You’ve stirred up the pot this morning, Remo.”

“Ain’t it cool?”

Silence. “It achieved your purpose,” Smith admitted finally. “I would certainly like to get you and Chiun off national television, but I’m more concerned about your second scheduled TV appearance today. The Ladies’ Man is supposed to air tonight. And tomorrow night on another network. And Sunday night.”

“I’ll pull the plug,” Remo answered. “Consider it done.”

“I’d like to know how you’ll manage it.”

“Smitty, don’t make me mad by questioning my abilities, okay?” Remo took a deep breath, held it, and then said with forced control, “I’m not stupid. Listen carefully, all of you. Remo not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid,” Smith said.

“Remo’s not a genius. Remo’s not good with electronic gizmos. Remo’s not brimming with the wisdom of the ages. But guess what, people. Remo is not stupid.”

Silence.