Unpopular Science

“Not if they know anything about Master Chiun,” Smith said. “The intruders used all kinds of techniques Chiun would never use. We think they deliberately revealed tins as way of attracting our attention.”

“Why?”

“To get us involved.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why,” Smith retorted. ‘It’s enough to know they have an awareness of Chiun’s existence. If they’re aware of Chiun, they may be aware of CURE. If they’re aware of CURE, then CURE must shut itself down.”

“Now I get the picture.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Smith said.

“Junior, play back the leg scene,” Remo said. The image had frozen as the door shut. Remo watched the three seconds of tape play out. “Again, Junior, but this time don’t stop the tape.”

Mark ran the tape again, and kept the tape rolling after the bizarre, kimono-clad foot was gone and the door closed itself. The opaque glass clearly showed a bulky figure outside, pausing for a moment, then walking out of the view. “What just happened?”

“He used a microwave device to override the biometrics security system,” Mark explained. “Stolen technology, but stolen years ago. Half the world has it now.”

“That’s a weird suit he’s wearing.”

“Some sort of an armored housing covered in stealth paint,” Smith explained. “Remo, do you realize how dangerously exposed CURE is now?”

“I have news for you, Smitty. CURE has been dangerously exposed for a long time,” Remo said. “Lots of people know Chiun. Half the world leaders know there’s a Master of Sinanju. They always have.”

“And your friends on the Sun On Jo reservation?” Smith asked sharply.

“They’ve known about Sinanju longer than you have, Smitty,” Remo said. “Face it—you’re a latecorner.”

“They know much more than about the existence of a Master of Sinanju—they know me!” Smith exhorted. ‘There was one young man who knew me by name, by voice!”

Remo furled his brow. “Hey, Smitty, take a deep breath. In. Out. You talking about the jerk on the phone? That’s just Winston.”

“Winston?”

“Yeah. He’s a got a real attitude.”

“Winston?”

“Who’s Winston?” Mark asked.

“Let’s move on,” Smith stated, voice wavering slightly. “Mark, explain to Remo what was stolen from White Sands.”

“Uh,” Mark said, eyes darting back and forth between the screen and Remo, who shrugged. “Okay. You’ve heard of JDAM? The Joint Direct Attack Munitions is an inexpensive computer and tail-fin component that is retrofitted to free-fall bombs and turns them into smart bombs. They can then be guided with a high degree of precision to their targets. White Sands was developing a technology with a similar objective. It’s called Guidance Device, Autonomous, Multifunctional.”

“G-D-A-M?” Remo spelled.

“Yes.”

“Guh-DAM?”

“Gee-DAM,” Smith said impatiently.

“Gee-DAM is similar in concept to JDAM,” Mark added. “It’s a small chip with a high degree of electronic intelligence combined with a military GPS and other positional sensors, like a barometer, compass, even a tiny ultrasonic acoustical send/receive combination for positioning solid objects.”

“For missiles?” Remo asked.

‘Tor anything but,” Mark said. “Anything.”

“Like a car?”

“Sure, a car, but think smaller. The U.S. is developing spy planes the size of hummingbirds and ground- based insertion devices no bigger than a mouse. The Gee-DAM will serve as a one-size-fits-all guidance system for all of those devices—it can get any mobile machine from point A to point B virtually autonomously, and with an auxiliary set of instructions programmed in that are specific to the device.”

“It’s extremely powerful technology,” Smith added.

“Sounds like something you buy in a little plastic bag at RadioShack,” Remo said.

“Losing it could seriously disable the military superiority of the United States,” Smith said. “One man has died already, trying to get it back for us. The item was offered for sale at an international arms bazaar yesterday and a CIA operative was on the scene to make an offer. He was found dead twelve hours ago. I’d like you to pick up where he left off. Obviously someone wants CURE on the scene. We’ll just have to satisfy them.”

“But I can’t help but notice that we’re flying away from the one part of the country where the burgles happened,” Remo pointed out.

“After you pick up Master Chiun, you’re heading to Morocco,” Smith stated. “That’s where the bazaar was held. With luck, you’ll be attacked.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean by whoever is trying to attract our attention. Your first task will be to find out who knows what and how they learned it. Until we know that much, we’re adrift. If our cover is compromised irreversibly, we’ll initiate shutdown.”

Smith was somber. Mark wore a distant, serious expression.

“Gee-DAM!” Remo exclaimed.

Chapter 7

The house was centuries old and the great tree that had protected the house for generations was older still. These days it was just a hulk of dead wood with some green stalks jutting out here and there, somehow finding the force of will to produce a few token leaves every spring.