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"Tony hires this Remo character off the street. He breaks the box and whacks
out Frank, Luigi, and Guido. Bing bang boom. Just like that. Dead. All three
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of 'em."
"Yeah?"
"What was the last thing I said before they dragged this Remo away?"
Everyone thought. The Maggot ventured an opinion.
"Scroom?"
"No, not scroom. I said, 'Get me a Jap.' Right?"
"Yeah. So?"
"You dummies. I say 'Get me a Jap' in front of this mook, Remo. He lams. I say
'Get me a Jap' to Tony here. And what happens?"
"He sends up a Jap."
"Right."
"So?" Pink Eye pointed out in a reasonable voice. "You're the Kingpin of
Boston. Of course he sends up a Jap. Who wouldn't?"
"But follow my thinkin'. He wasn't any old Jap. He's a fuggin' thief. He robs
me blind. Now he wants to sell me back my hard-on disk. What does that tell
you?"
"Japs are crooks?"
"No. This is something new. There's someone on to us. You, Tony. This Remo.
Why'd you send him?"
"I thought he would work out."
"You were wrong," Don Carmine snapped. "Why else?"
"Because he wrote that he would be the answer to my problems on his resume."
"Ba boom," crowed Don Carmine Imbruglia. "There it is. This guy's a plant.
They were both plants. You were conned, Tony my friend."
"I didn't mean to be."
"It's okay. You're new at this. Someone's trying to muscle in on our
operation. Okay, it happens. Now we know. They don't know that we know, but we
know. That gives us the edge."
"So what are we gonna do, boss?"
"So far we're okay. They may be cops. We don't know. They may be feds. We
don't know that. They may be the fuggin' KGB. We don't know that either. They
don't know where we are on account of I shot that Fedex guy accidentally on
purpose and we hadda relocate."
"It was a good thing we did, huh, boss?" said Bruno. "Otherwise they could
find us anytime they want to."
"Damn right. It was a fate accompli. It was destiny. So now we're gonna buy
back our hard-on disk and then we're gonna grab this Jap thief and whoever's
with him. We're gonna grab him and we're gonna sweat him. Then we know. Once
we know, we kill everybody." Don Carmine made a broad dismissive gesture. "End
of fuggin' problem."
"You don't think it's that Japanese Mafia, do you?" Pink Eye wondered.
"How many times I gotta tell you? There's no Mafia. We don't use that word in
my outfit."
"Not even a Japanese Mafia?"
"Okay, there's a Japanese Mafia. Everybody knows that. But no Italians. The
Japs just purloined the word from us. Sure, this could be them." He snapped
his fingers impatiently. "What do they call themselves? It's some Jap name.
Kazoo or something."
"Yeah, Kazoo," said the Maggot, nodding. "I heard of the Kazoo. They cut their
own fingers off when they screw up."
"And that's what we're gonna do to them when I get my hands on them," said Don
Carmine Imbruglia fiercely. "I ain't afraid of no Kazoo. We're gonna give
these robbers a call right after we eat."
"Oh, shit, boss," said the Chef.
"What?"
"I think I forgot to turn off the stove."
Chapter 24
One of the many phones arrayed around the office of Dr. Harold W. Smith began
ringing at precisely 7:43 p.m.
Smith looked up from his computer. Remo looked around the room.
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"Which one is it?" Remo wondered, trying to isolate the ringing.
It was the Master of Sinanju whose sharp ears picked out the correct
telephone. He pointed. "That one." His smile was tight but pleased as Remo and
Smith simultaneously lunged for the correct telephone.
Smith happened to be closer. He snatched up the receiver.
"Yes?"
He listened intently as Remo hovered at his elbow.
"Yes, I have your item. The price for its return is seventy-five thousand
dollars. Take it or leave it."
Remo edged closer as Smith placed a hand over his free ear. "I am pleased we
agree on its worth," he said brittlely. "Now, where do you wish to make the
exchange?"
Smith frowned as he leaned into the earpiece.
"Yes. That is no problem. Midnight it shall be."
Smith hung up. "They want to take delivery at the Bartilucci Construction
Company in Saugus, Massachusetts," he explained as he looked at a small black
box attached to the base of the telephone. Every phone in the room was
equipped with a similar box.
When he returned to his computer and input the telephone number the box had
captured, Harold Smith pressd the Send key. He waited.
While the system hummed busily, Remo said, "That's it? All these freaking
phones for a two-minute conversation?"
"Not exactly. I placed identical ads in every Massachusetts newspaper. A
different phone number in each ad, a different phone for each number. It was a
long shot. The Mafia prefers to conduct their phone business via pay-phone
booths. But it should give us a geographical locale."
Smith waited for the automatic search localizer to read out the telephone
number captured by the black box really a NYNEX Caller Identification box-and
identify the locale.
"Ahh," he said. "A Massachusetts area code."
"Some breakthrough," Remo said sourly.
"The next three digits indicate the city of Quincy," Smith went on. "The
northern section. Let us see if the final four digits represent a pay-phone
location."
Smith frowned. "Odd. It's not a pay-phone. We may be able to trace this to a
residence."
As Harold Smith's fingers flew, Remo glanced over to the Master of Sinanju. He
was surreptitiously examining Remo's eyes. Remo put a hand over them and
looked away. Chiun pretended to look out the two-way window.
"This is odd. This is very strange," Smith was saying.
"What is?" Remo asked, approaching Smith's terminal, his eyes curious.
"According to the phone-company data files, the number that answered the ad is
not a working number.
"Is that possible?"
"If they are using pirated telephone connections, it is. It has been done
before."
"So it's a dead end?"
Smith logged off. He brought up a wire-frame state map of Massachusetts and
input the names "Quincy" and "Saugus."
"Hmmm. They are not remotely near one another at all. That may mean Quincy is
a private residence." He looked up. "We will deal with this later. Master
Chiun, I would like for you to meet these people at the place they named and
give them back their hard disk."
"What of the seventy-five thousand dollars mentioned?" asked the Master of
Sinanju.
"Of course, collect it if you can."
"There is no 'can' when Sinanju collects a debt," Chiun said loftily. "There
is only 'must.' "
"You will of course return the money to me."
"Minus my finder's fee, of course," suggested the Master of Sinanju, his eyes
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twinkling.
Smith sighed. "Is ten percent acceptable?"
"Yes," said Chiun slowly. "I will allow you to retain ten percent. But only
because you are my emperor. Otherwise it would be five.
Both Harold W. Smith and the Master of Sinanju glowered at Remo as he broke
into gales of laughter.
Clearing his throat, Harold Smith returned to his computer. He had to finish
maintaining the LANSCII hard disk before it was delivered to Saugus.
Chapter 25
It was supposed to be a simple errand, thought Nicolo "Nicky Kix" Stivaletta.
Meet the Jap. Hand the Jap the payoff. Take the hard-on disk. Then whack out
the Jap where he stood.
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