Unpopular Science

“Human amplification technology. I found the plans on the MIT website.”

Nancy stroked the arm. “Pneumatics?” she asked.

“No. Too slow and bulky. It’s magnetic fibers in flexible resin. Electrical currents make the fibers constrict. You bunch them together to imitate muscles.”

“Wow,” Nancy said, enjoying the feel of the arm. “What other kinds of human amplification can you do with this stuff?”

“Any kind,” Fast said, but it took him a few seconds to see where she was heading. “Oh!”

They never made it to the 7:30 showing of Charlie’s Angels in the Matrix.

Chapter 11

They were on their final approach into Barcelona when Mark Howard said to Remo, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about how Freya had learned so much from Sunny Joe Roam.”

“Yes?” Remo didn’t look away from the window. He wasn’t keen on revisiting this topic again.

“She said goodbye to you. You know what, she was really saying goodbye to her dad. Really.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you see, Remo? She wasn’t faking it. You’re her dad and she knows that and she believes it in her heart Sunny Joe is her grandfather and maybe her mentor and maybe even her adopted father in some ways, but you’re her dad. You could hear it.”

Remo tried to think about the rather mundane event of leaving the village of Sun On Jo. He had gone in and kissed her goodbye and then she’d come to the door. “’Bye, Daddy!” she’d said, while Mark Howard stood there seeing little red hearts and stars.

Now that he thought about it, it sounded very true. He smiled.

Remo Williams felt happy. Despite all the weirdness and horrific events that had brought Freya to where she was, despite Remo’s absence from so much of her life, she saw Remo as her dad.

What could be better than that?

Mark Howard deemed it worthwhile to make himself useful. He drove the rental Mercedes, easily finding the way to the home of Allessandro Cote.

“He’s a well-known arms distributor, working mostly through legitimate channels,” Dr. Smith informed them after he researched the name briefly. “He’s known to have been a primary benefactor of the flood of arms out of Iraq after the last war. At least a thousand Kalashnikov rifles went through his system to end up in the hands of street gangs on the West Coast, mostly Los Angeles. Another five to eight thousand AKs are suspected to have been shipped into Colombia on both sides of the conflict. On the other hand, he’s done enough legitimate trade with enough legal entities around the world that he’s created a safety net. Not many people seem eager to prosecute his occasional indiscretions.”

“I am,” Remo said. “But he’s a reseller, so who did he resell the Gee-DAM to?”

“Watch your language when speaking to your emperor and his regent,” Chiun warned.

“What I don’t understand is why he bought the plans in Morocco at all,” Mark Howard added. “I mean, the Gee-DAM was stolen by a professional arms trade outfit, we assume. Cote is also a professional arms trader. What did they need with the bazaar in Casablanca?”

“That puzzled me, as well,” Smith said over the speakerphone. “The answer is that they would not. It was clearly a ploy, maybe designed to give them adequate warning of your arrival in Barcelona. They may have an ambush in mind.”

“Their trap will fail,” Chiun declared.

“They obviously know something of our activities,” Smith pointed out. “You saw the videotape. Master Chiun?”

“They know one of us wears a kimono. Who doesn’t?” Remo pointed out. “Remember the press conference in Washington a few months ago?”

“We locked it down. We know of no media feeds made public from that event,” Mark said.

“Yeah, but did you notice that there were maybe forty reporters on the scene? They’d remember a guy in a kimono. That’s just the latest public appearance by the Man in the Silk Pajamas. He’s a tough one to miss in your average crowd of non-kimono-wearing Americans.”

“Enough!” Chiun snapped. “I dislike being discussed as if I am not present.”

‘I’m just saying, is all.” Remo shrugged. “You’ve been spotted, taped, broadcast and publicized. How many times I can’t even guess.”

“My garments, perhaps, but my face is still unknown,” Chiun insisted.

“Thousands of people have seen you over the years, Chiun,” Remo said. “Face it, you attract people’s attention. Now somebody remembers seeing you, and maybe he has decided you work for some sort of a government agency, and is trying to draw you out”

“Shush, imbecile!”

“I’m afraid Remo may be correct. Master Chiun,” Smith said.

“This conversation is designed to intimidate me into giving up my traditional garb,” Chiun said accusingly.

“No,” Smith said, but he allowed the word to linger a little too long. “This conversation is intended to warn you to a possible danger in Barcelona: We do not know what they know, but it appears they have baited us here for some reason.”

“We’ll stay frosty,” Remo assured him.

“I shall not stay frosty.” Chiun glowered.

“You’ll stay grumpy.”

“Fah!”