“What? How? How does that make them qualified for the presidency?” Remo asked. “Don’t answer that. It was a stupid question. Everybody knows you don’t need qualifications when you’ve got some good tricks up your sleeve.”
“Exactly,” Chiun trilled. “The tides of popularity ebb and flow and affections of the ignorant masses may be twisted around the fingers of a clever man. Is that not so. Emperor?”
“I suppose so,” Smith said.
“The last election of a puppet president was a circus of fools, was it not?”
“That’s not a fair example of how our democracy works. Little Father,” Remo said.
“Do you have a better example in mind, such as the election of the Terminator Who Took California?”
“That’s not a good example either.”
“The truth, my son, is that this country does not even have the courage to behave like a true democracy, as the last farcical presidential election proves,” Chiun lectured. “In a democracy the citizens cast their votes for a leader, and the man with the most votes is the winner. In this country, the one who leads the people was the popular loser! That is not democracy as the Greek idiots defined it, Remo Williams.”
“Even the Greeks didn’t do it exactly right, Chiun,” Remo protested. “You had to be a citizen to vote, and you weren’t a citizen unless you were a pure-blood male Greek landowner with a minimum of fourteen goats. Something like that, right?” He looked to Smith for confirmation. Smith looked weary, but he nodded. “Besides, we don’t claim to be a pure democracy. We’re a democratic republicancy. Or something.”
“It is a fraud,” Chiun said, shrugging.
“We elected a president, didn’t we? We’re doing it again, aren’t we? Better than letting the local warlord take over.”
“Have you noticed the billboards and the radio snippets and the television commercials? Chopped bovine sandwiches are sold in the same way as the presidential contenders. They call this an advertising blitz.”
“It gets somebody elected, doesn’t it?” Remo demanded.
“Somebody like the senator who sells secrets to the Arabian despots.”
Remo fumed and turned on Smith. “Where is Whiteslaw?”
“Disappeared.”
“Find him.”
“We tried.” Before Remo could complain, Smith added, “We tried hard and we’re still trying. Whiteslaw evaded his Secret Service tail after leaving the White House. We assume he’s undercover.”
“He’s got to poke his nose out again sometime.”
“May we still be around to see it.”
Remo glared at Smitty. “Giving up awfully easy, aren’t you, Smitty?”
Smith looked glum. “Not at all. The publicity will kill CURE, as well as send the nation into a crisis of leadership.”
Remo was exasperated. “Because of this video and some other circumstantial evidence? Smitty, nobody will believe it.”
“Enough people will believe it for long enough to create chaos,” Smith said. “CURE will be ordered to shut down, just in case an investigation happens. But what worries me most is the country. Whether Whiteslaw’s blackmail succeeds or not, the outcome could be disastrous.”
“But he won’t succeed, will he?” Mark Howard asked. “The President is not seriously thinking of giving Whiteslaw what he wants?”
“Giving Whiteslaw the presidency will be far less disastrous for the nation than most of the possible alternatives.” Smith sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought he stands a chance if not for his connection to Fastbinder. Fastbinder has his own long list of demands, and he’s promising to make war on the United States if we don’t give in. We’re between a rock and a hard place.”
Remo was on his feet. “Not for long.”
“Remo, you’re not going to touch Whiteslaw. Let me handle it.”
“Don’t try to think, Remo, right?” Remo sniped. “Forget it. I’m gonna go get him. Right now.”
“Remo, listen to your emperor,” Chiun ordered.
“You don’t even know where Whiteslaw is,” Howard protested.
“I’ve got nothing better to do than look for him.”
“Remo,” Chiun and Smith barked in unison.
“Forget it. You know how many times I’ve been told to not go solve the Senator Coleslaw problem? Never again.”
Smith’s eyes were bloodshot. “Remo, I’m giving you an order.”
“Harold, don’t give me any more orders. I’m full.”
The door slammed behind him.
The room reverberated with the sound, and Chiun’s tight mouth seemed to vibrate with it His face was hot, and he wouldn’t meet the eyes of Harold Smith or Mark Howard.
“Master Chiun?” Smith asked expectantly.
“Yes.” Chiun stood quickly and was gone.
Secret Service Special Agent Martina Vespana feared for her life. Her kidnapper was a madman, with a killer’s eyes, and his behavior made a mockery of her fear. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Remo.”
“Remo who?”
“I can’t think of a last name at the moment. Call me Remo Relax, will you?”
“Relax. Very funny.” She fisted her hands a few times, and they felt fine. Just a moment ago she had been carried out of her ground-floor apartment in a state of complete paralysis, but now all her body parts felt functional again.
